Page 9

My stomach is in knots as we pull into the store parking lot. He wants to practice to loosen me up — but am I ready for that? The scent of sex was so heavy in my room as I tried to fall asleep last night that it felt like torture. I knew what he wanted to do, but sitting out in the living room listening to it was harder than I thought it would be.

I wanted it to be me, sprawled out and vulnerable for him. I can’t fucking think like this.

“We should be able to get everything here. Are you ready?”

His head swivels toward me, eyes raking my frame like he’s inspecting me before he responds. “Are you?”

I’m not the one in danger right now, but I don’t need to remind him of that — especially since he had to plug my car battery back in before we left. It was a nice little reminder that I may still be in danger, too. “Yes.”

Anxiety ripples off of him as he looks past me to the store and the people coming in and out, his leg bouncing and breathing uneven. “I had a good reason,” he rushes out. “I just want you to know that before we go in there.”

The man he killed was a politician. In my mind, that’s reason enough. “No one knows who you are. I saw the news story before I came to Windwinter. I didn’t make the connection it was you until you were pointing a gun at me. Right now, you’re just a man being dragged through a Walmart by his girlfriend.”

I hate how much that word puts him at ease. I can see the way his shoulders relax, and his lips almost curl up into a smile. “Girlfriend,” he repeats, leaning in to brace on the center console as he raises two fingers to beckon me forward. “Kiss me like I’m your man.”

Fuck. I agreed to this. Hell, I even want it — but I know what a slippery slope this is.

With my heart in my throat, I take my seatbelt off, pivot to kneel on the seat, grab his face with both hands and let all my frustration, fear and lust spill out in a messy, almost frantic kiss.

The way he moans into my mouth shoots straight to my core, and his hands don’t even hesitate to begin roaming.

When he palms my ass and tugs me closer like he wants me in his lap, I can’t resist. Maybe because I know he needs to relax or we’re gonna get busted, maybe because I’m desperate to feel good. I don’t know and I’m not sure I care.

Swinging over the center console, I squeeze between his body and the steering wheel, grinding down.

I can feel he’s already hard, but unfortunately for us both, our clothes make it impossible for him to slip inside me. “I want to fuck you so bad, Roo.”

He trails his tongue down to my neck and sucks my skin between his teeth.

I shouldn’t let him leave a mark. I should make him stop. I should... fuck, that feels good. My eyes flutter closed as desire takes the wheel, and by the time I get my shit together again, I know I’ll wear his mark for days.

Panting, I pull back. “Satisfied? Can we go in now?”

“Not even close,” he breathes. “Goddamnit, I’m so hard. Gonna need a minute before we can go in there... and you’re gonna need to get off my lap for that minute to even begin. You drive me crazy.”

His mouth crashes into mine again, and I know what I need to do. For me, for him, for the sake of this goddamn shopping trip. “Take your cock out,” I whisper, maneuvering back to my own side and leaning over the console.

Pausing, surprise flashes in his eyes a brief second before he’s scrambling to pull himself out of his jeans. “You sure?”

“You ask too many stupid questions,” I mutter, sucking him in the moment he’s free. My hair falls around me in waves, blocking his face from view and sheltering me enough that I don’t try to act like I’m not enjoying it.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, his hand resting on my head as his fingers flex like he’s holding back from fucking the hell out of my throat. “Suck me so damn good.”

Knowing you’re making a mistake and continuing to make it anyway is so funny. But the way his cock feels slipping into my throat, the veins against my tongue, the heady weight of it... I don’t care. I’m dying to know what it feels like to swallow that much cum. To prove to him I can, that his hyperspermia isn’t the reason I tried to call this off. It’s one of the main arguments to keep going.

Killian thrusts up into my mouth with a groan, his fist tightening in my hair as he loses the battle to hold back, and before I know it he’s fully fucking my throat in the Walmart parking lot. “Don’t stop.”

I couldn’t if I wanted to. He’s got me pinned here, making me take it, and it’s got me so wet I squirm.

Fuck, I don’t know how I’m gonna go back to telling him no.

“Take that dick, girl. Take it until your throat remembers the shape of my fucking cock.”

God, he’s going to ruin me. His thrusts get harder as I choke, sending the tears pooling in my eyes streaming down my cheeks. My pussy is so wet I could put out a fucking fire with it, but it’s taking everything I’ve got to hold on and stay steady for him.

“I’m gonna come, Joey,” he rushes out. “I’m gonna co— fuuuck!”

The second his rock-hard cock begins pulsing on my tongue, I forget to breathe. I can’t. There’s so much cum it fills up my mouth, spills down my throat, slips out back down his shaft. I won’t disappoint him. Not here, not now. I swallow as much as I can and clean the rest off his cock with my tongue, swallowing that too. When I’m done, there isn’t a drop left.

And I’m a mess.

I don’t want to know what I look like as I sit up — hair disheveled, makeup running, cheeks stained with tears. Blowing him is not a job for the faint hearted, and I still have to go shopping.

Holy shit.

“That was — fucking everything.” Killian reaches out and wipes the tears off my cheeks, and then fixes my hair, caring for me in a way I didn’t expect. “No one’s ever swallowed for me before.”

I can’t imagine why. Chuckling, I wipe my mouth and try to stop my hands from shaking. “What else was I supposed to do with it? Let’s go.”

After another breath, he tucks himself away and stares down at the bulge that’s still there. “Will you let me return the favor when we get home? I know you’re wet for me.”

If I say no, then he might shut down and all of that was for nothing. If I say yes, I’d better be prepared to follow through — and I’m not. Nothing changed. He has to know nothing has changed. “Nothing kills a wet pussy like Walmart. Sorry, Killer. I’ll be dryer than the Sahara when we get back.”

Without waiting, I slide out of the Jeep and start walking toward the entrance, realizing just how right he was with every step. I can feel it.

I hear the door shut a few seconds before his huge hand is slotting with mine, fingers tangling like they belong there, and the feeling goes straight to my chest.

I need to focus. Who knows how long it will be before we get out again? I can’t forget anything. Yet with every step, he pulls me a little closer until I’m right up against him. Is he just nervous, or is he really this possessive? “One of us will have to push the cart,” I remind him. Gently, but firmly.

“I’ll do it,” he replies quickly, tugging one out with his free hand, and it only takes him a few steps to realize just how hard it is to push a cart with one hand. “Come here.”

He tugs me in and steps up behind me, caging me in as we begin walking into the store, and when I feel his nose brush against my neck like he’s inhaling my scent I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

This is suspicious. No one walks around a store like this, doesn’t he know that? Didn’t he ever have to go buy new underwear before he started offing people?

Again, I can’t pinpoint if it’s nerves or possession, and I’m no longer sure the distinction matters. It’s as weird as it is endearing.

“People are staring,” I whisper. “This isn’t normal.”

He seems to realize the attention he’s getting and finally backs off, giving me a moment to breathe. “Okay. Fuck, okay.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets like it’s difficult to act normal, and I almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

Taking over with the cart, I uphold my end of the bargain by getting what we need and smiling at him every time someone gets too close. It feels ridiculous, but truthfully, no one is paying attention to us now that he stopped treating me like a flight risk.

I notice his eyes on me every time someone walks down the aisle with us, again making me wonder if he’s worried someone will recognize the blue or if he’s holding himself back from claiming me right here, but the longer it goes on the more I start to believe it’s both. “I really like those leggings you’re wearing.”

The urge to say something sassy wells up inside of me, but I made a deal. “Do you?” I ask, tossing some potatoes in the cart. There’s a man not far from us giving us the side-eye, so I add, “They’ll look better on the floor, babe. Think you can keep your hands off me until we get home?”

“No promises,” he says with a grin, but it fades when he notices he isn’t the only one eying my leggings.

Immediately he tenses, his hand flying out to grip my hip tightly as he tosses the guy a bro nod, the possession blatant.

Again, weird and endearing all at once. It’s a struggle to keep him on task after that — especially once we realize we need a second cart — but we get there.

Checkout is terrible and the walk to the car is even worse, but once everything is loaded, I turn to him.

“See? We made it.”

“Mmhm.” He looks around a little paranoid before releasing a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, we made it. You okay?”

Externally? Yeah, I’m fine. Internally, though... not so much. My stomach is twisting, begging me to kiss him again, hold his hand one more time, hug him, do anything to get just a little more contact with the most attractive man I’ve ever seen before we get in the car. Once we’re in, the deal’s over. I don’t have to pretend anymore. I won’t have an excuse unless I take the ban off the table altogether, and I can’t shake the fear that it’ll end terribly for me if I do. He is still my captor. He could decide to kill me at any point, for any reason. He has the means and the opportunity, he just needs the motive.

“I’m fine,” I say finally. “Let’s head back.”