“Tell me how she died.”
The second the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back—not just for my safety but because of the brokenness inside Kill’s eyes.
His fingers pinched my clit cruelly. “I told you never to talk about her.”
Courage shot through me and I asked, “Did she burn? Did she die in a fire?”
Did she somehow make it out of a burning house where no one saw, and was given a new identity because she remembered nothing? Because if she did, then look at my scars!
With a vicious jerk, he ripped off my satin G-string and shoved the floaty pink skirt up around my hips. “You keep talking and you’re going to get hurt.”
He fumbled with his belt, ripping it open and unclasping his fly. His cock strained against the thin material of his black boxer-briefs.
I couldn’t move as he pulled a condom from his pocket and shoved both boxers and jeans to his knees. Something else fell from his hand, thudding gently to the carpet.
I tried to see what it was, but Kill gave me no room to move.
He didn’t care that he stood naked before me with his mermaid tattoo and her hair caressing around his cock. He didn’t care that the Libra star sign tattooed in the waves seemed to glow and tease me with memories. And he didn’t care that a tear—so full of confusion, need, and madness—trickled down my cheek.
His hands shook as he rolled the condom down his length, sheathing his large erection. My body warmed and melted, twisting my desire to run.
“How do you know she’s gone, Killian?” I whispered. “Why are you so sure she’s dead, when I know things I can’t explain?”
He froze, his hand fisting the base of his cock. I didn’t expect an answer. I never expected the truth, but was granted with one sentence. “She died due to complications in surgery. She never woke up. It’s undisputable and true and every time I fucking look at you, you remind me of that fact. Are you happy now?”
I tilted my hips, inviting him to take me. “No, I’m not happy that you’re hurting.”
His gaze flashed with pain; his eyebrow rose, almost as if he was suspicious of my permission.
I nodded gently, biting my lip as he ducked his knees and positioned himself at my entrance. There was no need for foreplay; my body was drenched, wanting to connect after three days of terrible loneliness.
“What surgery?” I whispered as my mouth fell open from being filled so slowly.
He gritted his teeth, sinking completely inside me. “Enough talking.”
My body tensed then relaxed as his long length stretched me. I couldn’t let it go. “Did you see her at least? Please… I need to know.”
His eyes glowed with agony so deep, it completely overshadowed his lust. Sighing hard, he thrust, but his heart wasn’t in it—it was lost to him, ruined by a dead girl. “I saw the photos. I read the police report. I told you I stood on her fucking grave. She’s gone.”
My back bowed as he drove fiercely into me, embracing his anger.
My heart thudded thick and needful. I wanted to forget about the morbid conversation and embrace the sensation of him inside me, but I couldn’t let it go. I had to chase. Had to hound. It was the only way I’d find the truth. “You sound as if you didn’t get to say good-bye. Why did you have to read police reports? Weren’t you together until the end?”
His face went black. Fingernails pierced my hips. “I was in fucking prison.”
Silence filled my head. White noise and confusion. “What… what for?”
He laughed, sounding manic. His hips pistoned, driving me higher and higher toward the strangest orgasm. One entwined in finding out the truth all while our bodies devoured each other.
“I was betrayed.” Bowing over me, he growled, “But it doesn’t hide my sins. I was incarcerated for murder, sweetheart. How does that makes you feel?” His green eyes flashed as he savagely thrust into me.
My pussy throbbed and bruised. I couldn’t stop my hand rising and cupping his cheek, stroking his rough face. “You’re still paying for your sins.”
He slapped my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
He increased his tempo, quickly leaving the realm of speech and focusing on the finale. I wasn’t ready to break the link between us. Not yet.
Ask him.
Ask him the question.
Jealousy burned in my heart that this man, currently driving into me, still loved another. But hope glowed, too. I pinned all my hope from the last few days on one answer.
One answer only he could give me but I worried he never would.
Crying out as he planted his hands on either side of my body and driving fast and ruthless, I panted, “Tell me her name. What was the name of the girl you loved?”
The world ceased moving. Everything screeched to a stop.
Kill’s cock twitched inside as he just stood there like an iceberg. He grabbed my throat, hissing, “Never ask me that again. You’re not worthy of her name.”
Then his hand moved from my throat to my eyes, planting heavily over my vision. The world went dark but every instinct shot into hyperawareness.
His hips thrust harder, his cock bringing such heat and pleasure.
“I can’t stand you looking at me with her eyes. I can’t stand looking at you, period, while I’m fucking you.” His voice broke, but he smothered his agony with a growl. His pace increased, leaving sex behind and pounding straight into punishment.
I couldn’t see. His hand was hot and heavy.