Page 29 of The Final Contract (The Black Ledger Billionaires #5)

I wake in my bed, every inch of my body remembering where Killian touched me last night. My thighs ache, my lips are swollen, my skin still tingles.

Beside me, he sighs deep in his sleep, chest rising slow and steady. We’d gone to bed wrapped around each other, skin to skin, no barriers between us. And now, we wake the same way.

We’d talked until the hours blurred—about childhoods and rebellions, first kisses, first heartbreaks. Everything about my twin sister. And he didn’t hold back telling me about his brother, Cormac—the image of their father.

We’d talked like people who didn’t want the night to end, who didn’t want to stop learning each other.

But when we did touch—when we couldn’t hold off any longer—the sex wasn’t just sex.

It was more. Deeper. Reverent. Especially that last time, when the box of condoms ran empty.

He’d been ready to stop, but I hadn’t let him.

I wanted him raw—to feel him, all of him.

And when I asked, something snapped. He became an animal, a devil brought to earth, worshipping only me.

I rub my hand over his chest now, sliding down his abs, loving the hard cut of muscle. My leg is still thrown across him, and even in sleep he’s hardening under my touch.

It makes me wet—knowing how easily he responds. Maybe that’s just him. Or maybe it’s what I do to him. Either way, I’m soaked.

My hand sneaks under the covers, wraps around him, and strokes his length until he’s thick and hard in my grip. I watch his face—careful, slow—not wanting to wake him just yet.

When I can’t hold back any longer, I ease myself over him. I grip him at the base, rub the head of his cock against my entrance until he’s slick with me. My body clenches with need as I finally push down, sliding him inside me inch by inch.

A low moan rumbles from his chest. His mouth falls open, breath spilling out as I start to move—slow, steady. My eyes drink him in.

He stirs, exhales harder, and when I take him to the hilt, his eyes snap open. Heat sears through me at the way he looks at me—like I’m his entire fucking world.

His hands clamp on my hips, possessive, demanding.

“Christ, angel,” he rasps, voice rough from sleep. “You’re riding me in my sleep now? You that desperate for my cock?”

“Yes,” I whisper, shameless, rocking harder. “I couldn’t wait. I needed you.”

His grip tightens, dragging me down harder on him. “Filthy little thing. Taking me raw again…soaking me already.” He pinches both my nipples until I gasp. “Show me how bad you want it. Touch yourself.”

My hand slides between us, rubbing tight circles against my clit, each thrust sending sparks through me.

“That’s it,” he growls, eyes locked on mine. “Look at you. Riding me, playing with your pussy. You gonna come for me, angel?”

“Y-yes,” I gasp, thighs trembling.

“Do it. Let me feel you. Let me feel that pretty cunt clench around me when you come.”

I cry out, hips bucking, his thumb taking over as he rubs my clit harder, faster. My whole body locks tight, then shatters, pulsing around him.

“Fuck, that’s it—take it. Take all of it.” His voice breaks rough, his thrusts meeting mine, deep and relentless. “Gonna fill you up, angel. You’ll feel me all day.”

“God, yes,” I beg, still grinding through my orgasm. “I want it, Killian. I want you.”

He slams me down once more, groaning as he comes, spilling into me. His arms lock me to him, mouth crushing mine in a bruising kiss as he fucks me through the last waves.

When it’s over, I collapse against his chest—panting, trembling—his heartbeat thunder beneath my cheek.

And even with his cum leaking down my thighs, even with my body wrecked from him, all I can think is: I don’t ever want to wake up without this. Without him.

T he plan comes together at Jaxon’s. His fiancée, Cassidy, greets me with a hug—warm and genuine—before I see who my stand-in is: Sylvia, a Ledger companion about my size, long blonde hair falling down her back. A friend. She slips into my clothes without hesitation, ready to play the part.

“Thanks for doing this, V,” I nearly whisper, hugging her as Finn and two guards flank her, heading for the waiting limo.

“Don’t make me regret letting you take my car,” Jaxon mutters, pressing a set of keys into Killian’s palm.

A matte-silver McLaren gleams inside Jaxon’s private garage, and Killian grins like the devil himself as he opens my door. “Ready, angel? Better hang on.”

The city blurs behind us as he races us out, weaving through traffic with reckless precision. I should be nervous, but instead I feel…free.

Killian keeps a pace like hell is chasing after us, and we’re pulling into my sister’s in record time.

The second I step into the yard, the birthday girl comes barreling toward me. My niece launches herself into my arms with all the force a sugar-high seven-year-old can muster. I spin her once, laughing, her little tiara sliding crooked across her head.

Then she spots Killian. “Killian!” she squeals, as if he’s been part of the family forever.

He crouches, catching her hug like he’s done it a hundred times, and the sight makes my chest ache in ways I don’t want to name.

Oliver’s next—my nephew, ever the serious one.

Killian ruffles his hair in greeting, and Oliver doesn’t miss a beat before launching into an enthusiastic lecture on everything he’s learned about the praying mantis.

Killian listens, nodding solemnly, as if my nephew has just handed him classified intel.

Inside, the party is in full swing. Kids scream and chase each other, icing flies, balloons pop. Adults cluster in little pockets—moms gossiping near the kitchen island, uncles crowding the grill outside.

Eventually, the crowd ebbs into the backyard, and my sister finally slips away from her hosting duties to collapse into the chair beside me. For the first time all day, there’s quiet between us.

I hand her my bottle of amber beer. She gulps it greedily, not even pausing to wipe her mouth.

She tilts her chin, pointing across the yard. “That’s Stacy.” She says the name like it’s coated in something sour. “Self-proclaimed Daniel’s ‘work wife.’ Even after he’s told her to knock it the hell off.”

I follow her gaze to the woman in question—laughing too loud, leaning too close to my brother-in-law.

“She doesn’t just ignore boundaries,” Stasia continues, rolling her eyes. “It’s like she’s trying to push him into an affair.”

My sister looks back at me, eyes sharp with mischief. “She doesn’t know I keep that dick well satisfied and on lockdown.”

I choke on a laugh. “Not very girls’ girl of her.”

“Certainly not.”

My sister’s eyes track him across the yard—Killian, who just glanced my way again, giving me a small nod. There’s the faintest tug of a smirk at his mouth, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

I feel Stasia’s stare burning into me.

“Don’t start,” I mutter, dragging from my bottle.

“I like him for you,” she says simply. “And I know you like him.”

I groan, tipping my head back.

“Maybe more than like him?” she presses.

I don’t bother lying. Not to her. “A lot more than like him.”

Her smile softens. She slides her arm around my shoulders and leans her head against mine.

“Yeah, that’s more than obvious. He feels the same way about you.”

My heart stutters. “Yeah?”

She huffs a laugh. “Don’t be na?ve. Anyone can see it. He’s crazy about you, sis.”

Before I can answer, Aurora yells out, “Cake!” from across the yard. Stasia groans, but I push up from my chair. “I’ll get it.”

Killian follows me inside, that shadow at my back. “Need a hand?”

“If you’re offering.”

I’m setting the cake on the counter, arranging candles, when the back door creaks open again. Stacy breezes in, a too-bright smile plastered on her face. She goes straight to the fridge for a lemon water before turning with sugary sweetness.

“Oh, that cake looks delish,” she gushes as I press candles into the frosting. “Daniel loves frosting, you know—make sure he gets a great piece.”

I freeze, staring at her. She smiles like we’re girlfriends sharing a harmless secret.

“You know, if you just want to cut a piece now, I’ll take it to him.”

Like it’s normal. Like it’s acceptable to carve into a kid’s birthday cake before the candles are even lit just so she can hand-feed her little crush.

The audacity.

I turn slow, hand reaching next to me without even needing to look. My fingers land on cold steel—Killian’s knife—and I draw it in one fluid motion. He doesn’t flinch.

“Let me tell you something, Stacy.” My voice drops, sharp enough to cut without the blade.

“You seem shit at respecting boundaries, and Stasia has to behave and play Desperate Housewives , but I don’t.

So I’ll make this crystal clear for you.

Leave Daniel alone. Stop being a pathetic little pick-me.

Show my sister—his wife—the respect she deserves.

Otherwise…” I tilt the knife, smiling razor-sharp.

“I’ll cut off your tits and shove them down your throat. ”

Her face drains. “How dare?—”

“Try me.” I stab the knife into the cutting block, hard enough it stands upright. Then I turn back to the cake, calm as ever, adjusting a candle.

Stacy makes a strangled sound and storms out with a huff.

Behind me, Killian growls low. His heat presses into my back, his hands gripping my hips. His mouth dips to my neck.

“I’m so fucking hard right now.”

I smile, and his hand slips beneath the hem of my dress, finding my panties. He growls again when his finger slides between my legs and comes away wet.

At the same time, he pulls his knife free from the block.

The cold tip grazes my sternum through the fabric of my dress, making me shiver.

Slowly, tenderly, he drags it upward, the flat edge gliding over one nipple, then the other, until they’re pebbled hard beneath the thin material.

A taunt. A promise. A seduction from the blade he knows better than his own hand.

I gasp, arching against him.

“At the birthday party?” I whisper, breathless.

“Are you ever satisfied, little killer?” he rasps, pressing the blunt edge of the knife in just enough to remind me of its presence. “Have I not been fucking you well enough?”

I look back at him, catching his mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue tangles with mine as the blade teases higher, then lowers, while his free hand strokes me beneath my dress.

“I’m satisfied every time you touch me,” I whisper against his lips. “I just can’t get enough.”

He holds my stare, and I hold his, heat crackling between us?—

The door bursts open. Kids flood in, shrieking with laughter. In an instant, the knife is gone, slipped back into its sheath; his hand pulls from between my legs. Killian steps aside like nothing happened at all.

I take a shaky breath, trying to look composed, the kitchen suddenly too small.

He leans down, voice low in my ear. “I can’t get enough either, little killer.”

He presses a kiss to my cheek, a promise wrapped in heat.

“And I don’t want to.”