No underwear.
Dark trousers opened to lean hips and the fat head of his cock. The thick shaft jutted out from a neat circle of coarse, black hair that wove a fine path up the flat surface of his pelvis to his navel. The pants were tossed aside and he stood before her as naked as she was.
“Like what you see?” One hand closed around his erection. He stroked it deliberately, all the while studying her.
It was a task not to blush or look away. It took a lot of reminding herself she was supposed to know about this stuff. But she kept his gaze and steeled herself to respond.
“Yes.”
The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he joined her. Automatically, her knees parted, already expecting him to climb over her. Instead, he stayed kneeling between them, peering over her splayed body. Firm hands rested on her hips, holding her down as he shifted closer.
“I promised you something, didn’t I?” he said evenly. “Back in the limo. What was it?”
Body thrumming in that way only he seemed to be able to make it, Juliette fought not to buck and wiggle and demand he just end the suffering already.
“You promised to make me squirt,” she whispered, breathless.
“Aye.” His hands slid inward, dipping into her pelvis and stopping when his thumbs could peel apart her lips. “But are you still wet?”
She was. She knew she was. She could feel the thick puddle of arousal collecting against her opening, begging for him to make use of it.
“Yes!”
Rather than check like she wanted him to, his hands fell away and he leaned over her for the light next to the bed. It flared on with a deft flick of his fingers, flooding part of the room, the bed and them. Juliette winced at the sudden invasion of illumination. She blinked a few times before turning her eyes on the man leaning over her.
She’d been wrong. He wasn’t gorgeous. He was something so beyond such a simple term. He was breathtaking.
Propped above her on his hands, dark tendrils slipped over his brow and fell recklessly over his eyes. God, his eyes. They were just so unimaginably powerful, like the sky during a dangerous storm. Peering into them from a distance, she hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he could make her feel with only a look. Up close, she felt small and helpless … and so fucking turned on.
He pulled back until he was kneeling once more. His gaze went down the length of her to her mound.
“Open her for me,” he ordered. “And stay open until I tell you otherwise.”
Her hands moved without a shred of hesitation. They shot between her thighs and parted her lips. Her clit poked out, swollen and slick.
Killian cocked his head to the side and studied the tiny muscle throbbing for his attention through heavily hooded eyes. One hand lifted off the sheets. Four fingertips glided down the inside of her thigh, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. She shivered.
He didn’t notice. His whole focus trained on the feather light caress of his finger over her clit. It was barely a whisper. Barely made contact. Yet Juliette cried out. Her hips bucked off the mattress in desperation that went ignored as Killian repeated the motion. Each time was slower, lighter. She could scarcely feel the contact, but each one rocked her closer to the orgasm she could feel snapping inside her.
“Please…” she whined, too far gone in the haze to care about how pathetic she sounded.
Killian raised his head and his eyes met hers. His finger slipped away from the sliver of air just above her button and traveled down to her opening. It pushed in just to the tip and Juliette sobbed as the tight ring suckled greedily at the invader, willing it in deeper. But he didn’t.
“What do you want?” he asked.
God, how could he not know?
“That … that thing you did in the limo,” she panted. “With your fingers. Please.”
His lashes lowered, cutting her off from the black flames leaping across his eyes. His finger withdrew and went back to terrorizing her clit, pushing her right to the edge before pulling back. It was a sort of psychological torture to see just how much she could take before she lost her fucking mind. It was more effective than water boarding or electrocution. She was ready to tell him anything, do anything to make it stop. She would have given him her first born if it meant easing the unbearable pang. Beneath her, the sheets were soaked and growing wetter with every passing second he toyed with her.
“Do you want me inside you yet?”
“Yes!” she sobbed, close to tears. “God, please! I can’t take anymore.”
His response was to take his cock in hand and stroke it while she writhed beneath him. The fat, purple head was leaking and the sight had her legs widening even further.
“Put your hands up,” he said. “Palms flat against the headboard.”
Nerves trembling uncontrollably, she raised her arms and flattened her palms against the headboard. The motion thrust out her breasts.
“Don’t take them down,” he warned, bending at the waist and taking a nipple in his mouth.
He sucked lightly while palming his erection. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t already inside her when he was rock hard, but he seemed to be waiting for something.
That something became evident when he drew back and reached for the end table. She watched as the light caught the silver foil he pulled out from inside the drawer. The magnificent appendage jutting from the center of his body was wrapped tight in rubber.
Now, she thought, anticipation making her dizzy. Now he would finally quench the fire.
She didn’t get his cock.
Two blunt fingers worked a lazy path down the quivering planes of her stomach, circled her navel before descending further. Juliette barely caught the whine working its way up her throat. It slammed into the teeth she clamped down hard on her bottom lip. Beneath his touch, her hips writhed against the sheets. The muscles of her thighs ached from holding them open for so long, but she didn’t care.
The tip of his middle finger dipped between her lips and traced a teasing O around her clit. The caress was so close to where she wanted him and yet he deliberately kept away. Anger and frustration tore a growl from her. The sound drew his eyes upwards to her face. The right corner of his mouth actually lifted in a half grin.
“Patience,” he said, his voice dripping with silent laughter.
“I have been patient!” she snapped. “Christ, just fuck me already!”
The left corner lifted and his mouth stretched into the first smile she’d seen him give and it was overshadowed by the fact that she wanted to hit him.
Eyes still on her face, his finger slipped downward to skim her opening. The gesture immediately made her forget her anger. All remnants of it washed away with her gasp as he broke through and pushed all the way inside. A second finger joined the first and Juliette swore colorfully. Her heels dug into the mattress, lifting her hips into his palm as he pumped his fingers slowly. But that wasn’t what she wanted!
“Do it!” she hissed.
“What?”
Breathing hard, she glowered at him down the length of her sweat drenched and flushed body. “That thing with your fingers!”
One, thick eyebrow lifted in innocent questioning. “This?”
He grazed against the spot, just a light skim that sent sparks flashing behind the eyes she squeezed shut tight.
“Yes! Yes! That. Fuck!”
She no longer had any control over her body. It was a mindless mess of desire rutting and thrashing for every little thing he saw fit to bestow her.
To her surprise, he worked the spot without driving her out of her mind first. His thrusts grew faster, harder. His palm slapped into her clit with stinging pain, but it was perfect.
Juliette came with a vicious scream of someone under some violent torture. It muffled the screech of her nails raking into the wood above her head and the rustle of sheets as her entire body convulsed with a ferocity that couldn’t possibly be natural. The world around her shattered and shimmered and exploded and still, he continued to destroy her with only two fingers.