I lean over to grab the magic wand on the nightstand, already plugged in and ready.
She screams when I press it to her clit and turn it on. Bucking wildly. Thrashing against the overwhelming sensation. But I easily hold her in place, forcing her to take the vibrations and my cock. I pick up the pace, fucking her in earnest.
“Come for me, little toy,” I demand. “Come with my cock deep inside your ass.”
My words throw her over the edge, just in time. Unable to hold back anymore, I jerk with the force of my orgasm, releasing a growl that sounds more beast than human.
“Fuck,” I groan, spasming as her inner walls clamp onto my overly sensitive cock. “Fuck, Jenna, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I put the wand aside and lean over her, grabbing the strap of the hook again and pulling. My nose twitches with a primal need to debase her. I’m a hungry, insatiable beast.
“You have no idea,” I repeat.
I think the message must finally have sunken in—that she understands how much I crave seeing her like this—because she just stares at me, eyes wide, vulnerable, and so damn open. There’s no holding back anymore. She lets me straight into the deepest parts of her.
“You want it too.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement; I can see my desire reflected deep inside her.
Her chest shakes, and she bites her lips together, but she doesn’t break from my stare for a single moment. The honesty keeps shining in her eyes as a couple of tears spill free. Then she nods. My beautiful, innocent, defiled Jenna. She nods. Because she wants this dark depravity just as much as I do.
Relief rushes through me, a worry I barely noticed fading. I knew Jenna was submissive, but I have been holding back with the humiliations, thinking it would be too much—thinking she couldn’t handle both Killian and me, or either. But Jenna is so strong. In this moment, there’s not a flicker of doubt in my mind that she’ll be able to take every dark depravity we unleash upon her.
38
The Gentleness
Jenna
I expect Killian to be at school the next morning when I walk into the kitchen, rubbing my wet hair with a towel, so I halt in my tracks when I find him at the kitchen island, making a sandwich.
“Did Dad enjoy the nose hook?” he asks with a smirk.
I shudder at the memory of the horrible thing. I still can’t believe Ian made me feel desired and even made me come with that thing pulling at my nose. Even though I hated it, I loved every second of it. But the reminder that Killian has seen me like that sends cascades of chills down my spine. I had all but forgotten he was the one who put it on me.
Refusing to let him get to me, I deflect. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”
“First lesson got cancelled. Now answer my question. Did he enjoy seeing you with your nose drawn up, crying like the pathetic little girl you are?”
Fury rises inside me, sudden and reckless. “Fuck you.”
His smirk widens. “Nah, I think you got that wrong.” He lifts the butter knife, pointing it at me. “See,Iwas the one who fuckedyoulast night. Not the other way around. I was the one whoshoved my cockdeepinside that tight ass of yours and broke it in. And you were agoodlittle slut who enjoyed it very much.”
Anger and shame twine and twirl inside me. My pulse speeds up, and I can’t decide whether I should scream it all out like a mad person or run off and hide. Neither seems like a good option. Both would be exactly what Killian wants. So I go against my instincts. Ignoring Killian’s self-satisfied expression and trying to do the same with the fear surging in my veins, I round the kitchen island and grab a mug from one of the upper cupboards.
But Killian is adamant about provoking a reaction. “Tell me,” he continues, “did Dad fuck you too?” He comes up behind me as I grab the coffeepot and pour a mug of steaming liquid energy. “Did he come inside you while watching your nose pulled up like a little pig?” He lifts his hand over my head and inserts two fingers in my nose, pulling up.
“Get off me.” I jerk away, holding my finger up in a sharp warning—or rather, weak defense. My pulse beats in my throat, and my hand is shaking. I have no idea what I was thinking. Killian is a loose cannon. He’s not going to stay off me just because I tell him to or because Ian has made rules.
Glancing down at my finger, he scoffs. “Do you really think that—” He pauses when his gaze comes up to my face—to my forehead.
It’s only then that I remember that the letters Ian scrawled on my forehead last night linger as a shadow I can’t scrub away. I’m about to rush off, but Killian grabs my arms. Holding me firmly in place, he tilts his head slightly, studying the word.
“Interesting. He usually writes slut. Hmm. I think I like this more.” Keeping his eyes on my forehead, he reaches for a drawer. “But I think I can do even better.”
“Stop, Killian,” I protest when he grabs a Sharpie. “Let me go.” I try to wriggle free, but he only tightens his grip on my arm, fingers digging deep into my skin. “Ouch, it hurts.”
“Then stand still.” He bites the lid off the pen and aims it at my forehead. When I keep writhing, he releases my arm and grabs a handful of my hair instead. Spearing me with a warning look, he pulls my head back. I want to scream at him, but somehow, I’m frozen in place under his demanding stare. My hands latch onto his arm. I try to pull it away, but when he starts writing, I hold on instead.
“Please stop,” I beg in a small voice. I hate what he’s doing to me, humiliating me with cruel coldness and making me hot at the same time. Whatever bravery I had managed moments ago fades fast as the wet tip of the pen moves on my skin. I can’t tell what he’s writing, and I don’t want to know. I just want to run and hide and curl up in some corner.
