Page 8

Killian

It’s been a week since I’ve touched her. A week since that dumbass argument that didn’t need to happen, especially so soon, but I have to admit I get her hesitation.

After what I’ve done, I honestly don’t know if I’ll even make it another year on this earth. Normally I’d say that’s dramatic, but I feel like people who have assassinated a politician have a shorter life span, regardless of how righteous they believe the crime was.

The cops would kill me just to silence me.

I guess I was just too ready to hold onto something good for as long as I could, and that sex was really motherfucking good.

I expected an embarrassing talk about my condition after, one where I tell her the story of how I even got diagnosed and how girls tend to run away from me and my buckets of cum. But instead I honestly got something worse. I got rejected... and not for my cum.

That she seemed to enjoy.

I really need to stop thinking about it.

She’s been cordial the whole time, cooking for us both like she did that first day, but even still I feel further apart from her than I did the day I met her.

Or maybe I’m just dumb. I don’t know, but when she sits down across from me after breakfast and gives me that ‘we have to talk look’ I find myself tensing.

“What’s up?”

“We have enough food for dinner tonight and tomorrow night, but that’s it. We’ll be out of meat and fresh produce by Sunday. We can survive off of canned beans and MRE’s for a while I guess, but I thought you should know.”

Well fuck.

I knew this day would come, I just didn’t know it would come so soon or that things would be this damn awkward. It feels like what I imagine it feels like to live with an ex... except you’ve never dated... and you’re holding her hostage.

So maybe that’s worse.

“What do you propose we do?”

Her lips purse, but her tone remains almost suspiciously light. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, actually. You can go if you think you won’t be spotted. They don’t know your name yet and all they’re showing is your eyes, so chances are good you can make it in and out of a small town grocery store without issues. I can give you my card.”

The thought makes my heart beat a little faster and anxiety creep its way along my skin.

Yeah, they probably won’t recognize me, but I’m tall enough to catch some attention, and if someone looks at me too closely in this small ass town... yet if I let her go alone, I could potentially ruin everything anyway. No. She gave me her word, and although a week is nothing in the grand scheme of things, we have to learn to trust each other eventually. “What if we both go?”

“We could,” she agrees. “It would be easier than making you a list.”

Scratching my head, I release a deep breath and accept my fate. “Do you think anyone would recognize you?”

“No. I don’t usually leave when I come here, so unless the same people are working who checked me out a week ago, no one will notice me.” She pushes her food around with her fork, squinting at her plate. “And even if they do, it’s not like they’ll automatically assume I’m shopping with a fugitive.”

“Fair.” Goddamn, she’s beautiful. I think I hate it. “You’re going to have to fake date me. You know that, right?”

“What exactly do you think happens in grocery stores?”

“People walk around and get groceries,” I deadpan. “I was meaning like hold my hand or not look like you want to run if I put my arm around you. I’m trusting you here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have anxiety about it.”

Or that I don’t need a little comfort sometimes. Fuck, that’s pathetic. Glad I didn’t say it out loud.

“Right. Okay,” she agrees softly. “I will hold your hand and be cool if you put your arm around me. When do you want to go?”

“You said we had until Sunday? How about tomorrow evening? Older people shop in the mornings and they’re the ones that watch the news.”

“Good point.” She nods and goes back to eating, throwing us back into the same silence I’ve been dealing with all week. She’s nice enough, but only when I talk to her first.

Guess it’s time to fuck with her for some attention. Who even am I anymore?

“You sure you can pretend you’re into me? I don’t know, someone might call 911 if you look like you’re a captive that wants to bolt.”

“Seriously?” She looks up, licking her lips. “You don’t think I can?”

“I don’t know. I think you’re gonna be all stiff and look like you’ve never even kissed me.”

Roo rolls her eyes as she stands up and holds out her hand, transforming into an entirely different person as she smiles at me. “Come on, baby. I can’t survive off of your meat alone.”

It feels too good not to play along. Standing, I move over and crowd her space, backing her up against the counter without breaking our gazes and she plays along without missing a beat. Her slender hand slides up my cheek and rests there as she meets my eyes. “We’re in public, baby. Behave.”

“How could I when you look like this?”

I fully take advantage and catch her in a messy kiss, one she reciprocates with a soft moan until ultimately pulling back with flushed cheeks. “See?” she huffs, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can handle it.”

I need more. I lean in again for just that, but when she backs up an inch, I take the hint. That was just practice. “Can we practice one more time before we walk in? Just to loosen you up?”

It’s clear from the look on her face that she’s not buying my shit, but she nods anyway. “Sure.”

This is going to be harder than I thought.

Backing away, I let her see how hard I am from just one kiss and then press down on it when I turn away. “Can I borrow your room?”

“Yeah. I was thinking when we go out, we could get you some new sheets and you could move into the other room. The couch won’t be comfortable for long.”

I’ve mostly stayed on the couch to watch the door, but I really only started that when she got here. “That sounds good, yeah.” I’d have somewhere to jack off that isn’t the shower. “You need anything out of there before I go in? I won’t take long.”

Her eyes drop to my crotch. “No, I don’t need anything. Take your time.”

It feels a lot like rejection, but I’m not surprised. She’s made it clear where she stands.

As much as it stings, I can’t pass up an opportunity to jack off in here. It’s a good thing she didn’t try and ask me why I wanted to come in her room versus all the others because I didn’t have an answer. Or I guess I did have an answer, but it wouldn’t be one that she’d like.

I want to smell your dirty panties while I come doesn’t seem like something she’d want to hear while she’s pretending she doesn’t want to fuck me, but I decide then and there that if she asks me after the fact, I’m just going to be honest. She can slap me if she wants.

It doesn’t take long for me to find her laundry, and in seconds I have her panties pressed against my face and I’m struggling to get my cock out.

She smells so damn good I leak enough precome to spread along my shaft, then begin stroking myself like this is the last orgasm I’ll ever have. As soon as she sees the mess I make in here there’s no way she’ll let me in here again, so I vow to make the most of the time I have... and maybe sneak in here every so often to snatch a pair because fuuuck . I’m throbbing.

I imagine how it felt when she was riding me on the kitchen floor. The way she looked at me and clenched her dripping pussy around my cock like there wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be. I know I didn’t imagine it. She felt what I felt and I don’t just mean the best sex of her life, I mean all of it.

“I want it.”

“I want you.”

The thing those words did to me.

“I can handle you.”

Obviously the fuck not. But even as I think that, I know it isn’t true. She didn’t shut this down because she can’t handle me, she ended it because she could. And she really fucking wants it.

“Killian, don’t you dare. Don’t stop.”

It does me in just like it did the first time.

I hate that it does, I want to be known to have stamina, but hearing her tell me she didn’t want it to end felt so damn good I couldn’t help it.

I twist my fist around the crown of my dick and slide down one last time before it begins to pulse, cum oozing through my fingers when I try to catch as much of it as I can, but there’s too much.

It feels too damn good to care anyway.

By the time I’m spent, my cock is still throbbing and there’s cum all over my hand and her laundry basket, so I cover as much of it up as I can and catch my breath. She’s absolutely going to see all this cum when she does her laundry and I can’t find it in me to be embarrassed about it. Hopefully it stirs something inside of her that pushes her toward me, but even if it doesn’t, I don’t want her forgetting what she does to me.

If I can’t escape this desire, why should I let her?