Page 18

Jamie whimpered, gripping the edge of the sofa as if he needed the grounding.

“Say it,” I demanded, my voice guttural. “Tell me you want it. Tell me who’s gonna make you come.”

“You,” he gasped, breath catching as I nudged the head of my cock against him, teasing, circling. “You, Killian. Please?—”

I pushed in with a slow, steady pressure that made him gasp and jerk forward, but he didn’t try to move away. Didn’t flinch. Just held on tight to the back of the sofa as I filled him, inch by inch.

“That’s it,” I groaned. “Take it. Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

He moaned—low, rough, desperate—and started to reach beneath himself, fumbling for his cock, slick with need.

I growled and slapped his hand away without thinking. “Don’t,” I snapped. “You don’t get to touch yourself unless I say so. You come when I tell you, Pretty, and not a fucking second before.”

He whimpered, head bowing lower, as if begging me to take control of everything. The moan he gave next was deep, dark, needy as hell—the kind that vibrated in my spine.

I grabbed his hips and drove deeper, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the apartment.

“You want to come so bad?” I gritted, hips pistoning harder. “Then take all of me first.”

“Killlliaaaan,” he whined.

“So good around me, Pretty.” I grabbed a handful of his ass, squeezing until my fingers dug into the muscle and he yelped—sharp, breathless—then melted into it.

I flattened that same hand and slapped his ass, hard enough to echo, watching the skin bloom red beneath my palm. He whimpered, low and wrecked, his knees spreading a little wider, offering himself up.

“You like that?” I growled, leaning over him, cock buried deep. “You like me using you like a fuck toy? Taking what I want, how I want it?”

He gave a shaky, needy moan, nodding into the cushion. “Hurt me.”

Fuck . I slapped his ass again and pushed back inside, forcing him forward and he was pleading nonsense.

“You’re my perfect hole tonight, Pretty. Just here to be used. Just here to take my cock. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” he gasped, wrecked. “God, yes. Please, don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it,” I growled, snapping my hips forward and dragging a ragged groan from him. “You’re mine tonight. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin. Mine to make beg.”

He choked on a moan, the sound breaking into the cushion as his body rocked with every thrust.

“I’m close,” he gasped, trembling .

I gripped his hips harder, grinding deeper into him. “Not yet. You don’t come until I say so. You understand me?” He nodded frantically, sweat sheening his skin. ”Say it.”

“I—won’t come.”

“Good boy.”

I drove into him harder, my rhythm relentless now.

Sweat dripped from my brow as I leaned over his back, my mouth close to his ear.

“You’re taking me so fucking well,” I growled, voice ragged.

“As if your body was made for me.” I gripped him hard, and Jamie let out a shattered whimper, his fingers white-knuckled around the cushion’s edge, back slick with sweat, trembling with need.

His hole clenched around me like it didn’t want to let go, every thrust drawing a new sound from his throat—whines, curses, pleas he couldn’t form.

“You feel that?” I whispered, dragging my cock out to the tip before slamming back in. “That’s me, Pretty. That’s every inch of me claiming you.”

“P-please, Killian?—”

“Not yet,” I growled, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, forcing him to look over his shoulder at me. His eyes were glassy, lips parted, wrecked .

I reached around, wrapping a hand around his cock. “Now,” I breathed. “Come for me, Pretty.”

He shuddered beneath me, the cry he let out punched out of him as if it had been ripped from his soul.

He spilled over my hand, his back arching hard as his release overtook him.

And fuck—seeing him like that? That undone?

It dragged me over the edge too, hips snapping, cock pulsing deep inside him as I buried myself and came with a groan torn from my chest.

I didn’t let go. Not immediately. I pressed my forehead between his shoulder blades, both of us shaking, breath mingling in the thick, humid air.

His skin was slick with sweat and lube, hot beneath my touch, and I inhaled the scent of sex, of oil.

My cock still twitched inside him, oversensitive, and every inch of me throbbed with what we’d done.

I could feel the rapid thud of his heart, the tremble of his muscles under mine, and I stayed there, letting myself breathe him in. Letting myself feel it all.

“Pretty,” I whispered again. “Fuck… Jamie.”

He was still trembling, visibly so, even as I eased out of him and stripped off the condom. I kept a hand on his lower back, grounding him with touch alone, before coaxing him to stand.

He didn’t speak. Just let me take his arm and guide him to the bedroom as if he couldn’t quite hold himself together.

I cleaned him with a warm cloth, gentle touches—no teasing, no talking.

He let me. And when I nudged him onto the bed, he went without resistance, loose-limbed and pliant, letting the sheets cradle him.

I came back with a bottle of water and a fistful of snacks. Jamie was still lying there, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable.

I handed him a granola bar.

He blinked, took it. “No cookies?”

I rolled my eyes. “Eat. And drink. You’ll feel like shit if you don’t.”

He chewed slowly, sipping water as if he hadn’t realized he needed it until it hit his mouth.

Somehow—I didn’t even remember lying down—I ended up with Jamie draped across me. His head on my chest, his leg tossed over mine, one hand curled loosely on my side. He was already asleep, breaths huffing against my neck.

And I didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.