Page 27 of Empress of Ruin
“I fucking hate you!” I hiss, even as my orgasm creeps up on me. The fight is only pushing me closer.Knowingthat Killian’s bigger and stronger only makes me hotter, until I feel like my entire being is about to burst into flames. I try hard to stave it off, squeezing my eyes shut, struggling, gasping. He only fucks harder and harder and harder… until I’m hanging right on the precipice. But there isn’t quite enough stimulation to push me over the edge; I can’t come from his cock alone.
I’ll be able to hold out.
I haven’t realized I’ve said the words aloud until he laughs, boisterously and mockingly. “Sure about that?” His free hand sneaks around my body and cups my pussy.
Oh, fuck. Killian knows me. He knows exactly what makes me tick. He’s always loved making me fight and suffer until I orgasmed—and today’s no different. His fingers pinch and tug my clit hard enough to hurt, and that’s all it takes. Iexplodewith a vigor that surprises even me. It hurts, and it feels good, and dear fucking god, the orgasm goes on and on. Each convulsion siphons another ounce of strength from me, until I’m a melted puddle on the mattress.
But Killian isn’t done. He releases my clit, stroking it a few times as if to soothe, then reaches higher to pinch and twist my nipple.
I comeagain,so suddenly and thoroughly that it clears my mind of all thought and takes every remaining bit of strength from me. There’s nothing left. I’ve devolved into a shell of my former self, nothing but his little fuck-doll, limp and spent on the mattress.
That’swhen he finally comes with a deep grunt that bounces off the walls and echoes through the room long after he’s finished.
“Fuck,” he hisses, almost angrily. Then again, softer, “Fuck, Lyra. Goddamnit.”
He release my neck, pulls out of me, and rolls me onto my back. I go limply, too weak to protest. I’m practically seeing double.
He pushes my damp hair out of my face and glares down at me. Whatever he sees makes his expression soften and his touch gentle. His hands come beneath my knees, pushing them up until they’re touching my chest.
“Stay like this for a bit,” he says softly. “Ten or twenty minutes.”
“Why—” but I don’t have to finish my sentence. The reason dawns on me with the swiftness and suddenness of an executioner’s scythe.
He wants me to cradle my legs and stay lying down… because some studies have suggested that increases chances of pregnancy.
I need to get on birth control, now.
We shower, then eat. Killian lets me sit on my own, and acts like it’s some sort of reward for beingsuch a good girlfor him earlier.
I want to tell him to go fuck himself in every imaginable way, but I know it won’t do me any good. He’ll just spank me and fuck me again. While I highly doubt that having sex twice is enough to get me pregnant… it’s probably best not to instigate him.
Nevertheless, my big mouth runs away from me, as it often does.
“You shouldn’t reproduce.”
Killian dabs his mouth with a napkin, not seeming offended in the least. “Oh?”
I don’t respond, biting my lip.
“Why?” he prods.
“Because certain genes should die.”
“And why would you count mine among that pool?” he asks, sounding vaguely amused. “I’m healthy. I’m strong. I’m fit, and I have an excellent immune system. Physically, I’m a pretty ideal candidate for reproduction.”
“Physical doesn’t matter. You’re a psychopath.”
“I thought you were calling me a sociopath earlier?” Is hemockingme?
“Same difference.”
“Not quite, actually. Although the subject of much conjecture, most professionals agree that there’s a distinguishing difference between sociopaths and psychopaths. Psychopaths are born; sociopaths are made.”
My hand grips my knife with unnecessary strength. For a moment, I consider stabbing him in the face.
Wait. What?That… isn’t me. I’m not a violent person by nature. I don’t start fights, and I tend to run away from them when someone else picks one. Nothing’s worth getting needlessly injured or screwed over.
“But both have certain predispositions,” I say, deliberately setting down the knife.
