I whined and shook my head, and he just snorted and reached out to push the side of my face against the window, keeping me pinned there.
His other hand pulled on the waistband of my leggings, now around my hips, and it made me step back, maneuvering so my ass was out and my tits and face were still against the window.
My heart was pounding in my chest. Aside from the time we fucked in an airport bathroom, this might have been the lewdest thing I'd done with him.
No one was there to see it, and there was much less risk than the bathroom, but at least we'd been behind a closed door that time.
Now all that was separating me from being seen was a pane of glass and several hundred feet.
I felt exposed and vulnerable, like anyone could look up and see me getting teased and fucked against the window like some common slut with no dignity, but even the thought of it sent shivers through me.
Killian knew what he was doing.
"Do you want them to see?" he asked me. I could just about make out the smirk on his face in the window reflection. "Do you want them to look up and see you with your pants around your hips, getting fucked in the middle of the day like some cheap whore? I bet they'd appreciate the view. I bet they'd wonder how they could get a turn."
His fingers tightened against my head for a second, and then threaded into my hair, grabbing on tight and drawing a soft cry from me at the slight pain.
"Well, they can't," he growled. "No one else can touch you. You're mine. Mine to toy with and tease. Mine to wreck and ruin. They can look all they want, but they will never, ever touch you."
His voice rang with possessiveness, and I nearly came on the spot just from that.
Chapter 18
Ashlyn
Killian was in his element, and I was so keyed up I was nearly trembling, desperate to get him inside me.
"Please," I begged. "Please fuck me."
"Oh, I'm going to, baby. Don't worry about that."
He kept his hand in my hair while the other fumbled with his belt behind me.
I wanted to turn my head, to see his big, beautiful cock when he freed it from the confines of his pants, but he kept my head where it was with his grip, not letting me move at all.
My heart was racing at the thrill of it, the ease with which he asserted his dominance over me. I really could see why all the women at the club and the ball had been fawning over him. For someone who enjoyed feeling like this, helpless and held down, Killian was a master. He knew how to milk reactions from his partners, and he knew how to play on the things they already liked to make the moment better.
That was evidenced by the fact that I felt like I was going to die if he didn't touch me already.
I whined, pushing my ass out more, seeking warmth and touch and friction, anything to sate the empty need inside of me.
Killian just chuckled and continued at his own pace, freeing his cock. From the sounds I could hear, it sounded like he was stroking himself, and I closed my eyes, picturing him hard and pulsing, ready to enter me at any moment.
God, I wished he would.
I wanted him to bury that length inside of me, fill me up and make it so all I could think about was his cock.
"Killian," I whimpered. "Please."
The end of my plea was punctuated by a moan as he rubbed the thick head of his cock around my slick entrance, teasing it as he got his cock wet.
"I know what you need," he promised, and with his free hand, he guided himself into me, burying himself right to the hilt in one smooth movement.
I was wet enough that there was only the slightest burn to the stretch while he was pushing his way inside, and my breath caught and then left me in a ragged wave.
I felt so full and so good, and he kept me pinned in place, making me stand there, impaled on his cock, while he caught his own breath.
"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his free hand gripping my ass and then my hip, so he had something else to hold onto. His fingers dug in and I could tell that by the time we were done here, I was going to have bruises left behind.
I didn't care. I wanted him to mark me up, to leave behind physical traces that he wanted me, that I was his. I wanted to be able to look at them in the morning when I was getting ready for work and remember what we'd done.
It was surprising, honestly. Usually I wanted to forget the things Killian did to me and the way he made me feel. I spent the week in denial about how I felt about it, and then when the weekend came around, I gritted my teeth and dealt with it.
Right there, caught between a window and Killian's cock, I could admit to myself that being wanted like this, being used and fucked and wrecked like this, had its place and was hotter than it had any right to be.
Then Killian drew his cock back, sliding out of me just enough that he could slam back in, shoving me harder against the window and every thought that wasn't 'more' and 'yes' and 'oh god fuck please' flew right out of my head.
My nerves were singing with the pleasure of it, and Killian set a hard and fast pace, pounding into me hard enough that I would have been worried about the structural integrity of the window if I'd had the brain
