Page 23

But she slides away, moving further up the bed. I catch her foot, my brow slashing down but she only smiles as she lets my shirt fall down her arms. Then she playfully tugs her foot from my grasp, flipping around so that her belly is on the bed, her ass in my view again, her mouth lined up with my cock.
“Yes,” I growl out as I angle my monster toward her lips.
She’s tentative, licking at the tip, taking a few small suckles but I let her play, my breath growing ragged from all the teasing.
When her mouth finally opens and she takes in the mushroom head, filling her mouth with just the head, I feel the tingle as my cum starts to move up my shaft. “That’s it, luv, it won’t take much, I’ve been hard since last night…fuck…” I rumble out as she slides even more of me into her mouth and I hit the back of her throat.
I’m still pumping at my shaft with one hand, but the other I settle into her mass of honey hair, twisting it all up in my fist.
She feels so good I start spitting and cursing as she slides back off me and then takes me back in.
My whole body starts to shake, my thighs most of all. No orgasm has ever built like this, I can feel difference as she sinks down deep on me, choking a bit in her effort to take me in.
“Chloe,” I groan. “Yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck.”
Her hand comes to my hip, her delicate fingers small and so fragile looking as she holds onto me. I swear, I’m going to have her hand tattooed right there as she draws me closer.
I tighten my grip on her hair, but she pops off, looking at me with big eyes. “Killian?”
“Yeah?” I ache to have her back on my cock.
She looks at me, her eyes full of apology, “Could you not hold my hair like that?”
I blink down at her, my jaw going hard. “Are you going to tell me why?”
She shakes her head, her hair cascading about her shoulders as I let it go. “No. I don’t want to ruin this, I just…” And then, with my hand on her neck, instead of in her hair, she dives back on my cock.
My eyes squeeze shut. I want cum so bad but also… I pull back, the sound of her lips leaving my cock making a little popping noise.
She looks up at me with a wince. “I ruined it anyway.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I look down at her, every muscle taut. “Tell me why you don’t like when I hold your hair and why it scared you to kneel.”
She nips at her lip, drawing in several breaths before she finally answers. “My stepfather…”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I spit. If he sexually assaulted her, I swear I will make him hurt in ways he never even dreamed were possible. The way I threatened Dougy…. Child’s play compared to what I’m going to do to him.
She winces. Does she misunderstand? I run a gentle hand over her cheek, and this time, I cradle the back of her head, as I let her hair slip through my fingers. “Have you told anyone about him?”
She shakes her head.
“It will make you feel better to tell me.”
She draws in a shaky breath. “I’m not sure it will.”
“Why not?”
She looks at the painting, the one where her face is in pieces. “Because then you’ll understand that I’m really broken.”
I’m sliding down on the mattress, flat on my back. “Luv, there is no way you’re more fucked up than me. Trust me. You can share with me, and I’ll understand. Maybe better than anyone.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” It’s not lost on me that this is the second time she’s made me promise something. Does my girl struggle to trust?
She nods, drawing in a deep breath as she stares at the painting. “He was my mom’s third husband. I think she married him because he was a cop, and her second husband had made these death threats…”
I stare at her, because she was right about one thing. I’m starting to understand. I think I’m fucked up, but I mostly grew up in a stable house. My father fucking hated my guts, but that’s not important right now.