Killian gets behind me on the bench, slaps his hands onto my thighs, and spreads them wide. Then Ian’s finger is back between my legs, at my clit.
The sensation is brutal. My clit is so sensitive that any little touch drives me wild. And Ian’s touch is evil. Soft flicks that shoot bolts of electricity through me, making me spasm and jerk. I try to move away—to alleviate the sensation—but between the phallus and Killian’s hands, I’m stuck in place, spread wide open, forced to take Ian’s maddening ministrations.
I drop my head back, onto Killian’s shoulder, giving up the fight. But my body keeps jerking. It’s simply too much. I moan and yelp, in pleasure and frustration. But even though the pleasure is unbearable, it keeps building, slowly but surely.
“So close,” I pant when the tension ripples through my legs, making my toes curl. I grab onto Ian, moaning loud and wild, about to go over.
But just as the swirling heat coalesces in my belly, about to explode, he steps back.
“Noo.” My eyes snap open, and I stare at him with indignation.
But when Killian wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes his legs into mine, another feeling overpowers me.
Relief.
Bone-deep relief.
“Play,” Killian whispers, and suddenly, it’s just the two of us. My eyes fall shut, and I melt into him. I soak him up—his scent, his strength, his warmth. It’s all around me, overwhelming and heady. A relief so sharp it chokes me up. “Let Dad hear your beautiful music.”
Killian’s warm tone makes me reach for the keys quite automatically. I don’t even need to think. The music is embedded so deeply in my muscles that it flows naturally.
Killian doesn’t join me like I expected him to; he just leans into me, deepening the connection with tender strokes and small motions of his hips that jostle me against the phallus. I groan and whimper, the desire that fires off into my sensitive nerves driving me wild. But somehow, it doesn’t impede my playing. If anything, it drives it to new heights. At least, that’s how it feels. The moment I release the keys, having played the last note, uncertainty filters in. I just gave another piece of my heart to Killian. I gave Ian this new part of me that I’ve carefully kept to myself.
I throw a quick glance at Ian, then squirm on the bench, needing a little distance from Killian. But the motion only brings more bolts of electricity that have me panting. “It’s… It’s—”
I’m about to say that it’s too much, but I don’t need my words. Killian reads me perfectly. Reacting instantly, he bands both arms around me, capturing my hands in my lap, and hooks his legs over mine. The position leaves him balancing on the seat with only his core as support, but he easily holds us there, steady and grounded.
“Killian,” I whisper, choking up, the emotions too strong to hold back anymore.
“I’m here, kitten. I’m yours. Always.”
“Killian,” I repeat, needing to say his name, needing the affirmation that follows as he keeps assuring me that he’s here and that he’s got me. My chest shakes and a few tears spill over, but I don’t sob. I don’t need that unraveling release. Not when I’m here in Killian’s arms—his touch, his words, the only things that make sense. Eyes falling shut, I let myself go. The shaking in my chest spreads, through my abdomen, into my arms and legs, until I’m shaking all over.
“K-Killian,” I repeat, unable to hold my voice steady through the turbulence.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you, Jenna. My pretty little kitten. You’re safe here. You’re mine.”
I don’t know how long we sit like that, overcome by the intimacy we’ve both needed for so long. At some point, I remember that Ian is here as well. Lifting my head, I scan the room and find him on the couch by the windows. He looks calm, just watching us, leaning back, hands laced over his stomach.
I reach out and say his name as well. “Ian.”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m right here.” He gets up and comes to stand beside us, taking my hand and pressing it to his chest—his beating heart. “That wassobeautiful.” His brows knit in an almost perplexed expression at the emphasis. Shaking his head, he parts his lips, but no words come out. He’s at a loss. “So, so beautiful,” he repeats and presses his other hand to my cheek. “Just like you.”
“Ian,” I just say, unable to get anything else out, wanting to taste the comfort of his name on my lips.
“It’s all her,” Killian agrees. “Soft and vulnerable. So damn brave.”
Ian hums. “It is. And now, I want to hear it again. Both of you.”
Killian places his feet flat on the ground, abs relaxing, tilting slightly forward. “Will you play with me, kitten?” he asks softly.
“Yes.”
“Good girl. Go ahead and start.”
I turn my head to look at him. “Do you even remember what you were playing?”
A smirk lights up his eyes. “I’ll come up with something.”
