Keep Me (Sinful Manor, #1)

by Sara Cate

When we reach the manor, I barrel out of the car, desperate to run from this feeling inside me. He stomps after me, clearly not ready to let me go. I slam the door, but he quickly opens it and bounds inside before slamming it himself.

We are on the precipice of something big. I can feel it, and it terrifies me. Because it means I have to come out of the quiet, safe little bubble I’ve been living in.

We are chest to chest. I’m staring into his eyes blazing with fury as one of his hands grabs the back of my neck and brings my face close enough to brush our lips together. “You make me so angry,” he mutters.

Our tongues collide in a needy tangle of desire. He bites on my bottom lip, and I scratch his arm through the flannel of his shirt. The grip on the back of my neck tightens as he pulls me even closer, devouring my mouth and making me forget why I shouldn’t be doing this.

Without breaking the kiss, he lays me on the steps and moves his mouth from my lips down to my jaw. I let out another gasp as the rough texture of his beard scratches my neck. His kisses are brutal, much like his attitude toward me.

I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel.

My pants don’t go far. They barely reach my knees before Killian moves downward and latches his mouth around my sex.

Without a second of hesitation, he drops to his knees a few steps below me and buries his face between my legs. Wrapping one arm around my thigh, he loudly devours me, sucking and licking every sensitive inch.

I want to scream his name. I want to beg him not to stop. I want to look into his eyes as he pushes his tongue inside me, but I don’t do any of it. Killian has his mouth in the most private, intimate part of me, and I’m not ready to face what this means.

I love the way his fingers feel in mine as I wrap my lips around the middle digit. Softly I suck and lick, mirroring his actions between my legs.

On a quick inhale, my body explodes in pleasure, and I bite down on his finger, hearing him howl against my sex. I only have enough air left in my lungs to groan out a feral sound of pleasure.

He tears his hand from my mouth, moving it to my throat and holding me there as I’m assaulted by wave after wave of sensation. I see stars as my body is rolled through the climax.

Part of me wants to reach for him, but that fear of facing the truth resurfaces, and I hold myself back. Instead, I quickly gather my things and quietly, without a word, tiptoe up to my room and shut the door.

And one thing that keeps barraging my mind like a storm is the question of why. Why would he kiss me? Why would he touch me? Why on earth did he make me see stars on that staircase without wanting a single thing in return?

“You’re all bark and no bite, my wee wife.”

“We could do this all winter. Fuck like animals all day long. With nothing better to do. You can still hate me. Call me a brute and an arsehole, and I’ll call you a cow and selfish bitch. But with lots and lots of orgasms.”

He keeps up the grinding, and soon, I start to notice how heated and unhinged he’s getting. His breathing is growing shallow, and his lips part with desire. The stiff cock in his boxer briefs is so hard it hurts as he rubs it eagerly against my clit.

He grinds harder, and I start to wonder if he’ll settle for this dry humping or if he’ll take the opportunity to slip my panties aside and enter me. I don’t know which one I want at this point.

“Let me see it again, darling. You come so pretty.” My hips are moving fast now, tilting and grinding, trying to keep up with the momentum of his hard cock. Two thin layers of cotton are all that separate us, and it feels like we’re striking a fire with them.

His movements pick up speed until I look up to find him shuddering with a look of euphoria on his face. I feel the twitch of his cock against me as he comes, and I stare down between our bodies to watch the way it soaks the inside of his boxer briefs.

“You still hate me, right?” he asks playfully. “Yes,” I lie. I wish I still hated him, but I have to be honest with myself now. I can’t find a single reason to keep hating him.

Trailing my fingers over his chest, I let them slide down his abs. Then I delicately run a soft line just above the waistband of his boxer briefs. He stirs again but doesn’t wake. Very carefully, I climb over him, straddling his waist and settling my weight on his still-soft cock.

He lets out a groan without opening his eyes. Sleepily, he reaches down and grabs on to my leg, holding me in place as he grinds upward against me.

He’s fighting it, keeping his eyes closed as I move slowly on top of him. I feel his cock hardening beneath me. With every passing second, I grow more and more desperate to touch it, feel it in my hand and about a dozen other places.

But I know I could easily slip my hand into his boxer briefs right now and have him completely at my mercy.

That is until his eyes pop open, and he grabs me by the waist, flipping me until I’m on my back and he’s between my legs again. I let out a scream as he does it, but the scream quickly dies as he buries his face in my neck and grinds his erection against me the same way he did last night.

I hate the pity in his voice. I hate the attention. It makes me want to scream.

When his face is just inches from mine, he softly whispers. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re out of your mind if you think all of this has been pretending. Even when we’re alone. You are my wife, Sylvie. At the end of this year, you can try to leave, and if you piss me off enough, I might let you go. But I have a feeling you won’t. Because I don’t mean nothing to you, and you know it.”

“I could fuck you right here, and you’d let me. Wouldn’t you, darling?” His warm breath against my lips makes it hard to think.

He’s in his green and white kilt with the same slate gray jacket he wore at our wedding. There is no way to fully prepare myself for the effect that kilt has on me. I completely skip over confused and directly into aroused.

“Oh look!” one of the younger women, who I assume is Killian’s cousin, calls as she points above our heads. “Mistletoe!”

I glance at Killian and give him a playful expression. Then, he does exactly what I hoped he would do. He scoops me up by the lower back and tips me dramatically as he plants a deep, passionate kiss on my lips.

“No. I just think she’s a bitch, and clearly, being a bitch to you is my job.” He saunters up behind me, grabbing me by the hips and grinding himself against my backside.

I feel his cock beginning to stiffen against my stomach, so I reach down and stroke it through the thick fabric of his kilt.

“I can’t do it in here.” “Sure, you can,” I reply, pushing him back with a smile. Then I look down at where his cock is pitching a tent. “Because you certainly can’t go back down there with that.”

Digging a hand in my hair, he tilts my head back as he smiles down at me. “Then, maybe you can take care of that for me, darling.”

My hand drifts downward, sliding his kilt up until I brush the fabric of his boxer briefs. “Well, that’s disappointing. I thought you weren’t supposed to wear anything under these.” He chuckles as he kisses my neck again. “It’s a wee bit cold out for that. Don’t you think?”

He sucks eagerly on my neck as I stroke him, my fingers barely reaching all the way around. “Wrap your lips around my cock, darling. I need to feel that mouth of yours.”

My eyes widen when I take in the size. Long, thick, and bulging at the tip, I admire it for a moment too long. Wrapping my fingers around the base, I drag the head across the surface of my tongue. He lets out a growling moan as I do.

I tease the head of his cock again, flicking my tongue just under the tip. His hand finds my hair again as he guides his dick farther into my mouth. Having his impressive length on my tongue is satisfying, and I challenge myself to go deeper and deeper with each stroke.

I can’t get enough of his moans, so I chase them with each movement of my mouth. Arousal pools between my thighs. With my free hand, I gently cup his balls and massage them as I bob my mouth up and down on his shaft.

Using my hands and mouth, I draw him closer to his climax again, this time gazing up at him as I do. I feel addicted to his pleasure and the intensity of his gaze, needing it more than my own.

I wait for his climax to end before I pull my mouth away, quickly wiping the mess from my lips. And when I venture to gaze in his direction, I notice he’s staring at me as if he’s seen a ghost.

But I notice that his hands don’t leave my body for a second. He holds on to my arms, dragging me closer to him. Then, instead of kissing me, he cradles me against his chest. I don’t expect it, but I also don’t push him away.

Gazing up into his eyes, I feel something I never felt with him before. It’s a feeling without words, or if it has words, I don’t have the capacity to conjure them at this moment. It feels like mine and home. Safety. Comfort.

Killian puts his mouth next to my ear, and when he whispers, it feels like words written in breaths. So low even Peter can’t hear in the front seat. “I need to be inside you, Sylvie. I need to make you my wife.”

We are tearing each other’s clothes off, fumbling with buttons and zippers. We’re still standing in the foyer when he yanks my dress over my head, and I pop a couple of buttons off his shirt as I claw it open.

His cock is jutting straight out from his body, and the sight of it again sends a thrill of excitement and trepidation through mine.

“Let me see that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock again, darling.”

Eagerly, I put my lips around him and cover his length with saliva, sucking hard on the tip like I know he likes. His hips cant forward as he lets out a moan.