I feel him shift his hips under me, his hard cock grinding against the full globes of my ass. I expect him to press the glass to my lips and force me to drink it, so I’m surprised when he tips the shot to his own lips. His thumb pushes past my lips, forcing me to open my mouth. I’m not prepared when he spits the alcohol into my tongue. He smirks as I make a face as the bitter liquid floods my taste buds and burns all the way down my throat.
“Good girl.” He smirks, and I realize that he must be feeling the alcohol because he’s suddenly become very warm toward me. He’s looking me in the eye and his hand is sliding up and down my thigh, in a gentle, caressing motion I didn’t think he still possessed.
He doesn’t look away from me when the redhead from earlier comes back with a dark haired friend. They both climb on the couch, kneeling and leaning over to Killian.
The redhead reaches out and rubs his bicep and I feel my stomach drop seeing her hands on him. Things aren’t great with Killian and the way he treats me, but he’ll always be mine.
Mine.
“Fuck off,” Killian’s soft demeanor reverts back to his usual cold tone, and I see the dark haired girl flinch and move off the sofa so quickly I realize she must be new to the Pierce brothers’ world. He might not want them around, but he accepts another shot of whiskey from the redhead and downs it in one gulp. She’s seasoned, I can tell by the way she smirks and eyes me up and down like she wants to rip my throat out or my clothes off.
“Just because you have a new toy doesn’t mean you should neglect your old ones,” she purrs, and reaches out to wrap a tendril of my blonde hair around her finger seductively.
Before she can get another word out, Killian has one hand on her throat and one hand on my thigh so I can’t move off of his lap.
“I said fuck off, and don’t fucking touch her,” he spits the words before shoving her away from us. He stands up without letting me get down and I have no other choice than to wrap my legs around his waist as he shoulders angrily through the party. I’m not sure where we’re going, but I bury my face against his neck and gasp when he cups my ass in both hands.
It’s not long before he has me in his bedroom and tosses me on the bed. I expect him to cover me with his body and take me roughly by the way he’s been acting and the alcohol he’s consumed. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares at me, mouth slightly parted and chest rising and falling.
“Kill, are you okay?” His old nickname slips out and I know he heard it because the pain that shows on his handsome features socks me right in the gut. “You’re not acting like…”
“Like a fucking asshole?” His hard tone is back and he shakes off whatever it is he was feeling because he reaches over his head and pulls his shirt off and shucks his jeans off without meeting my eyes.
“Your words, not mine,” I counter, standing up to unzip my dress. If we’re going to do this, I want to undress myself, take some of the control he hasn’t let me have since he stormed back into my life.
I’m surprised when he reaches into a dresser drawer and throws a black t-shirt at me. I catch it, but give him a confused quirk of my eyebrow.
“You never turned down sleeping in one of my t-shirts when we…” he trails off for a second, stretching his arms over his head and I suppose trying to collect his thoughts in his tipsy state. “Just wear it.”
Tonight isn’t going how I anticipated in any capacity, but I’m curious to see where this is going. I change into just his t-shirt and my panties while I watch him bolt his bedroom door shut. He yawns as he scrolls through his phone before he sets it on the night table and pulls his comforter back. Instead of handcuffing me like he usually does, he climbs into his side of the bed and I walk over to mine.
I gesture toward the handcuffs. “Should I…Should I do it myself?”
“Get in the fucking bed, Ava,” he growls and reaches over to turn off the bedroom light. I do as he said, and before I can turn to face away from him like I usually do because of the cuffs, I feel his arm wrap around me and pull me back against his chest.
“What are you doing?” I blurt out because I can handle the rough way he takes me for his pleasure, but I can’t let myself feel anything for him. If I do, he’ll shatter the façade I’ve worked so hard to build over the years.
“Whatever. The. Fuck. I. Want.” He enunciates each word in a tone so soft that it reminds me of how he used to speak to me before everything got shot to hell.
I suck in a breath when his hand slips under the t-shirt and rubs the soft skin of my stomach, the pads of his fingers exploring the same places he memorized when we were younger. With a quick flick of his wrist, he turns me to face him and I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“Do you remember the first time I kissed you?” he murmurs, his thumb stroking my bottom lip as his hand finds my thigh, bringing it up over his hip. We used to sleep like this. Me in his t-shirt, his hands greedily exploring my skin.
“Of course I do,” I lift my hand to stroke my fingers through his hair, and I’m surprised when
