Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
When we get to the bottom of the stairs, it’s a disaster zone, filled with construction material and I see that there’s been some demolition of some walls down there. Piles of rubble. Tools and ladders everywhere. It’s a mess.
Killian cusses. “Fuck sakes. This place is a hazard.” Instead of taking me through, he leads me back upstairs. “I told the construction crew to halt work for this week since we’d be here, but what a fuckin’ mess. Don’t go down there. It looks like an accident waiting to happen. I’ll show the rest of it to you after the next level of work gets done. Fuck sakes. Can you start on dinner? I’ll be right in to help. Need to make a call.”
He gets on his phone and steps outside, irritated.
A minute or two later, he’s in the kitchen with me.
“You talk to your contractor?” I ask.
“Fuckin’ guy. I’m cheesed. Forget about it for now. What do you want me to cook?”
“You can fry the bacon if you want. I’ll fry some eggs and tomatoes, make some toast.”
I make toast in the old fashioned circa 1950s oven, since there’s no toaster. After we eat, we cuddle up in front of my laptop and watch Hocus Pocus.
A while later, we move to the master bedroom and he starts another fire and teases me as I put on A Nightmare on Elm Street. I tell him I’m nearly through my Halloween movie rotation and then he’ll get a brief reprieve before I start on my Christmas movie rotation. I then say that I really want him to come to my parents’ house for Halloween. We decorate the house and everyone in the family hangs out around the fire pit to hand out candy to the trick or treaters. Uncle Hugh dresses like the headless horseman every year and terrorizes us.
***
Freddy Kruger messes with my head like he does every Halloween, and I find that I wake up frequently, conscious of every noise from outside. It’s pretty cool to sleep listening to the water hit the shore and then when a thunderstorm wakes me and I’m up for the third time tonight, I realize I’m alone.
I check my phone. Two o’clock in the morning.
Where is he?
It’s such a huge house that it dawns that intercoms will probably be a necessity. I go no further than the kitchen, staying in the original part of the house, before I hear footsteps approaching.
I turn around and Killian and I both startle.
“Shit!” I gasp, grabbing for my chest. He grabs me and his face splits into a smile. “What’re you doing?”
“I woke up alone with the thunder, so I went looking for you.”
“Let’s go back to bed.”
“Where were you?” I ask.
“Just checking out some of the shit downstairs after the power flickered. Absolute disaster down there. I’m kinda pissed about it.”
“Problems?”
He waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get back to bed.”
He lifts me up into his arms and carries me up the stairs.
He’s got heat in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t carry me,” I say, “You’ve got injuries.”
“I’m good. I’ll be better in about two minutes when my face is in between your thighs.”
I smile. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, Killian Coulter.”
“But do you like it?” he asks, his voice husky.
“I certainly do,” I whisper, my voice coming out in a similar tone.
“Good. Because this dirty mouth is gonna be all over you in a minute.”
As soon as my back hits the mattress in the big sleigh bed, Killian’s mouth is between my legs.
I climax quickly, and the sensation becomes a little overpowering, so I try to pull my legs shut, but he grips my legs wide open and then rams his fingers inside as he keeps assaulting my clit with his mouth. My orgasm rolls into a double and I’m crying out loudly when I hear the casters rolling on the nightstand and then the tear of the condom package.
“Good you were equipped.”
“Mm hm,” he replies as he lines up.
And I catch myself pondering… wondering how many other women have been here, this bedroom is old, too, in décor, but this is a brand-new bed we’re in. How many women have been in this bed? Jessa? That girl Kenya from his hallway in the trench coat? Others? Was he as possessive and doting with them as he’s been with me? As I’m pondering this thought, he’s slamming inside, eyes on me.
The lamp is on and it provides next-level intimacy as he watches what he does to me, as he rains kisses across my mouth, over my earlobes, as his fingers pinch at my nipples, pulling sensations from me while I rock against him, feeling him stretching me.
If this is all for me, all this eye contact, all this emotion coming at me, I’m the luckiest girl in the world. But even if he’s been like this with others, I’m still lucky.