Killian Read online

  Impressive, sir.

  “Killy,” I simper.

  “Kate,” he growls.

  “Are you clean?”

  He pulls a face. “I haven’t been with anyone since you, Love.”

  Heart, meet throat. “Really?” Relief washes over me. Forget that I haven’t been as pure. He doesn’t ask. “Do you have…protection?”

  Killian smirks. He’s still languidly jacking his steel, making me sopping wet and quivering with desire for him. “Mo ghrá…it’s been five years since I’ve been squeezed by your heavenly cunt. There’s no fecking way I’m not coming inside you this night.”

  I just smile. Good thing I’m on the Pill. “Alright.”

  He presses the head to my pulsating clit and for a breath I go boneless. Then I claw my legs over his hips again, digging my heels into his fine, firm ass.

  “I want you,” I purr, imploring him closer.

  “I know, Love. You’re fuckin’ soaked.” He smirks.

  I frown. “So…”

  “So.”

  And then he does exactly what he said he would. Killian sinks all ten glorious, rock-hard inches of his cock deep inside me, stoking the flames of an imminent climax with every swing of his hips slowly bucking against my own—coaxing me, at first, as if it’s my very first time all over again. My walls form to his size, clutching tight around his girth, meeting him stroke for amazing, dizzying stroke. It’s fucking and it’s lovemaking and it’s pulse-pounding bliss. I gasp and moan. How on earth did I make it so long without this? Without him?

  My heart lurches in my chest; heat rockets through me, splintering me. My desire for him—my need to come—builds and builds as Killian ramps up and finds the exact rhythm that drives me wild. It’s his rhythm that’s perfect, or he remembers. He holds my jaw in one hand, my ass in the other, arresting my gaze, and my heart along with it, with his dark, greedy, smoldering stare.

  “Just like that…” I whimper.

  “I know,” he coos, driving me toward the finish line. “Come for me, Kate. Come on that cock.”

  “Oh my god. It feels so, soo…”

  Killian slows a notch as I start to crest, making my ache for him pound fiercely. My hands cling to his sides. I breathe him in. Such a dizzying scent. Dark and rich, yet minty-fresh, like citrus squeezed over sandalwood and cardamom spice. It carries me back as the tremors build and build and then rock through my whole body as I reach that carnal apex, my walls clenching and drenching his cock as I come so, so close to blacking out.

  Then…oh, then the tingling surge of sensation overtakes me and I bite down on a scream as I finish, so hard my toes curl against his back and I’m seeing stars.

  “You’re fuckin’ sensational when you come,” Killian smugs, breathlessly, ascending toward his own finish, higher and higher—harder, hotter, deeper as I barely recover—and then, with a shuddering release his lips part and his eyes roll back. He moans my name, softly, in reverence and pain in equal measure, as he does exactly what he set out to do.

  He buries his hot cum deep within my satiated core.

  “Tell me you love me, Kate,” he bemoans, still raggedly breathing as his heart beats against my own. “Say it…again.”

  Smiling, I let go, falling loose and limp in his arms, and he doesn’t move. “I love you, Killy.”

  “You’re not allowed to leave again.”

  “You’re not allowed to let me.”

  Epilogue

  Killian – Five years later

  “Fighting, out of the green corner! A freestyle assassin! He stands…three feet, four inches tall. Weighing in…at forty-two, and one-half pounds! Holding a professional record—five wins, ten losses, one no-contest!”

  “Six wins!” Aiden counters, gripping his pillow as he flicks an intense, barbarian glare from his mommy over to me.

  Kate stifles a grin, turning to me with an eyebrow quirked. “Is that right, Da?”

  I half-shrug. “You’re the scorekeeper, Love.”

  She sighs, feigning her exasperation. I think she’s feigning, anyhow. “How can I be referee, judge, and Bruce Buffer?”

  “Well…”

  “Let’s just fight!” the very enthusiastic four-year-old Aiden cuts in. “I’m gonna get you, Da!” he sneers, showing every one of his pearly-white teeth.

  “I’d like to see you try, Pip,” I growl right back, getting down low on my haunches.

  Kate giggles. “Touch glov—” she starts, but Aiden’s patience has already snapped and before she can finish that statement, he rushes me, releasing his throatiest battle cry. Kate stumbles backward out of the scuffle, falling onto the couch in a heap of very tired, very circular eight-months-pregnant woman.

  “Y’alright, Love?”

  Smiling softly, she dismisses my concern with a wave of her hand. The mighty forty-pound warrior comes at me, unleashing every ounce of his fervor and strength. He knocks me down, the tiny brute, and whacks me mercilessly with his feather-stuffed sham.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” I dramatically keen. “Ref?” I ask Kate.

  “Just let me know whenever he knocks you out.”

  “Ahhhh!” Aiden thunders, pummeling me. “Tap out already, you mothaf—”

  “Eyy!” Suddenly Kate’s on her feet again. “Watch it, mister!” She crosses her arms but they barely make it over her belly and nice tits. Jesus, even round and hormonal and mad, my wife is gorgeous as fuck.

  I try and fail to hide a smirk. My real-life professional record is sixteen wins, two losses, but this has been my toughest bout. I don’t mean the pillow fight.

  Fatherhood. It’s trying as hell sometimes. Knowing what to do, then knowing what to do after I get that first part wrong. Aiden’s a good kid, thank Christ. He has his moments. We all do. The three of us learn from our mistakes, usually, and try and do better the next time.

  Becoming a dad is a helluva lot like becoming a professional mixed martial artist. It hurts, a lot. Physically and mentally. And spiritually and emotionally…but that never stops me from trying again. Never did. Not even after I lose. Just as sure as I am every time I get on that mat, I was certain I wanted another baby with Kate.

  “You’re gonna get me in trouble with Mum,” I chide Aiden later, as I tuck him into bed. “She’ll think you learned that language from me.”

  “Well I did,” he says, candidly.

  “Unlearn it,” I say, earnestly, “before your baby sister gets here. If Mum hears Cara talking like that, we’ll both be in deep shite.”

  “Deep shite?” he echoes, brilliantly.

  “Ah, feck,” I say, stupidly.

  We both have a laugh. I shake my head. Said I liked bein’ a dad; didn’t say I was Father of the Year.

  “Da?” comes his little voice.

  “Yes, lad?”

  “Do you think I’ll be a good big brother?”

  I kiss his head. “The best.”

  “How d’you know?”

  I ruffle his mop of curly dark-brown hair. “Because I know ye, son. You’ll be tender as a lamb toward Cara. And bold as a lion, when she needs ye to be.”

  He smiles, satisfied. The truth is, I know because he asked. Because he wants to be. It warms my heart.

  We hug goodnight.

  I turn to see Kate’s silhouette in his bedroom doorway. It’s adorable, how hard she tries to frown at me when I see her face. “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough,” she says.

  “You’re mad?” I ask.

  “So mad.” She grins.

  I close Aiden’s door halfway. “Wanna make love?” I take her hand.

  “Wouldn’t that only encourage you?” She resists as willfully as ice stays frozen in the summer heat, as I lead her to our room.

  “Mo Anam Cara”—my soul mate—“every day with you encourages me.”

  “Cheesy line.” She giggles.

  “Fuck that then.” I lower her onto our bed and kiss her neck, from the soft hollow at the base of her throat, all the way up to th
e shell of her ear. And I tell her, “Just take off your clothes.”

  The End

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  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue