Rebecca
We’re lying on the couch. Killian’s body is spread underneath mine. His eyes are closed as if he’s in the deepest sleep.
In my several decades on earth, I’ve never experienced anything like this—the way he can seem so fucking knowledgeable and in control but then still make me feel like I’m the most powerful woman alive.
I wonder how I’ll ever go back to my regular life after this.
I think of my ex-husband and how moments like this were few and far between. In fact, I don’t remember DH ever trying to please me or focus on my needs.
Usually, he would just finish in four seconds and leave me in want.
With Killian, it’s different...the way he touches me and takes the time to kiss me.
He allows moments to linger and lets everything play out to its fullest potential.
It’s true that there’s a ferocity about Killian, but he still makes me feel like what I need and what I want is of the utmost importance. Even after the first time we made love, I kept finding myself thinking of the experience.
I never forgot how good I felt next to him. It’s why, despite fighting against my own heart, it was so easy to climb in bed with this man.
I feel him underneath me. His body writhes as if moving of its own accord.
We’re lying on the couch. It’s only been a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. I press my head against his bare skin, burrowing my face into the sculpted muscle of his chest, and feel his heartbeat.
His breaths are deep and reticent. They seem to spiral with mine so that we’re in unison. I can still feel the warm sensation traveling from the where his hands had been just moments before.
Then, Killian looks at me, his eyes full of ravenous hunger.
My heart races, and my body trembles as I run my hands across his skin. He gives me that little half smile before raising his hand to brush a loose strand of hair out of my eyes.
“Damn, you’re beautiful.”
He draws his face closer to mine until we meet in a gentle kiss that only hints at the oceans of want that are coming to a boil just under the surface of the moment.
The electrical impulses of desire are almost visible as they transit in the shrinking gaps of air between us.
“I'm not finished with you yet,” I inform him.
“Oh?”
The playful banter that we usually have is changing form, molding into a comfortable silence.
We’ve exchanged our words for unspoken sentiments, allowing our bodies to commune in primal, wordless sensations that transcend language and time, diving into the abyss of endlessness.
I trail my mouth along his chest and back up to his Adam’s apple before being drawn magnetically down to his statuesque pecs. My tongue insists on stopping to play with his nipples before continuing my leisurely exploration.
I shift downwards fluidly to his navel, and I can see the line of hair that seems to create a path all the way to where his cock lies in waiting.
I stop short, allowing my tongue to dance around the skin just above his throbbing cock.
The teasing continues.
Killian groans. “Could you torture me anymore, Rebecca?”
“Yes, I have every intention of making you pay,” I say slyly.
“For fuck’s sake, woman...”
I sit up so that we’re face-to-face.
I put my finger to his lips. “Shhh. Don’t speak. You’ve had your fun. It’s my turn.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, straddling him like I’m about to have the ride of my life. Killian’s face stiffens as I position my pussy over the tip of his dick.
He looks like he’s going to explode. His cock is wet, and pre-cum runs down the length of his shaft.
He’s so ready for me.
I slide his dick inside me, allowing him to fill me with every single inch of himself.
Closing my eyes, I begin to move back and forth against him.
Killian grunts and wraps his muscular arms around my waist, pulling himself deeper inside of me. He shifts his waist; we grind against each other, and I moan as I ride him to the edge of spasmodic ecstasy.
“Oh, fuck, Killian,” I say, not getting enough.
“I can’t hear you,” he says, continuing to thrust inside me.
“Fuck, Killian!” I scream, gripping the sheets.
Suddenly, Killian switches gears.
He grabs me, lifting me from the couch with his dick still entrenched deep inside of me.
He flips me over onto my stomach so that my body’s face down on the couch. Killian stands behind me, thrusting deeper and deeper.
All of him is surging repeatedly into my dripping-wet pussy.
Killian’s hand reaches forward, gently brushing the hair from my face before suddenly pulling a handful of it back toward him.
His balls slam against me, his cock dipping into me faster, then harder, then both.
Shit, is there anything this man can’t do?
My body trembles. My mind can’t do anything but space the fuck out blissfully.
All I can think about is how goddamn good he feels.
There’s a rhythm between us as we rock to the sound of the cushions squeaking against the couch.
My nails dig into the furniture—I don’t know how I’m not about to fucking explode, but I just want this to keep going.
I feel a divine, near fucking religious sensation as a hurricane of an orgasm takes hold of me.
Every part of my body seems to quiver with the voracious fury of Killian Walsh.
He thrusts into me over and over. I cry out before my teeth clamp down on my lips.
My eyes close as I throw my head back.
With one last movement of his body, everything erupts. I grip the couch tightly. He sends everything, all of me and everything surrounding me, into a fury—and, for just a moment, I can feel nothing except him.
My muscles tighten, and my body contorts as the hot stream of his cum shoots into me.
A moment later, Killian comes as well.
We collapse on the couch, our bodies too tired to move, breathless and panting hard. I kiss him. He returns the motion with whatever strength he has left.
It’s just then that we hear the rain fall. Here in the upper level of this ageless building, we can hear the water hit the roof.
Killian stares at the roof, deep in thought.
“Did you know that when I was a child, I always loved the rain?” he says.
“No, I didn’t know,” I reply softly.
He smiles. “I used to think that the sound of the rain on the roof was from a million tiny dancers doing an Irish jig.”
Killian laughs slightly at his own memory.
“I can picture that,” I say. “I used to lie on the floor of my parents’ attic for hours and just stare up at the roof, listening. Somehow, it always made me feel like I was safe and protected.”
He looks at me for a moment. “Kind of like this moment...” he says quietly.
I blush. I’ve never heard Killian say anything in earnest that wasn’t tinged with at least a trace of sarcastic detachment, but there’s something reassuring about his words.
Killian looks at my stomach. He takes his hand and presses it onto my belly. I can tell he’s studying something.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
He cocks his head slightly.
“I was just thinking that, after today, there’ll be a small thread that holds us together—the little life that we’ll soon bring into the world in the coming months.”
I look down at my belly, recognizing that he’s right.
Excitement, nervousness, apprehension, and a glaze of elation all begin to run through me without warning.
Whatever happens, the agreement between us has been finalized.
The future is suddenly much more interesting and much less predictable.
All those confused, agitated emotions give way to another feeling.
It’s the feeling of the deep store of love I carry with me always but stays so buried and protected these days it may as well not be there at all.
That’s the presence I’m feeling now—a deep, limitless well of love that’s either going to go somewhere as I get older...or it’ll go nowhere.
After today, it looks like it may have somewhere to go after all.
I lean into Killian, taking his hand in mine.
“There may very well be it. No turning back now.”
Killian nods, kissing me one last time before the rain lulls us both to sleep.