Page 86 of Thy Kingdom Come
He just revealed that he has no qualms killing. His admission should scare me, but it doesn’t. It only has me falling harder for him.
The way he touches me, it’s like we’ve met before, like our bodies, our souls have known one another for an eternity. I’ve been with guys before, but with Punky, it’s different. I come alive, and after being numb for so long, I’ve become addicted to the taste.
He lays a single kiss just behind my ear and the simple action coupled with what he’s doing to my body has the scorching knot within my core beginning to unravel.
“I should leave ye be. Yer trouble, I know that. But why can I not?”
He feels it too.
This undeniable pull will surely get us into irreparable trouble, but neither of us seem to care. This feeling liberates us both. I never want it to end.
“We’re bad for one another, Punky. One of us will get hurt,” I state, moaning when he rubs over my clit. “And that person will be…you.”
He scoffs, amused by my claims. “Yer so confident, are ya? I don’t get hurt, Baby. I’m the one who causes pain.”
To emphasize his point, he begins to finger me relentlessly. I desperately want to come, but he won’t permit it. I like and hate his dominance all in the same breath.
“And when I find out who y’are…y’ll regret not tellin’ me when ya had the chance.”
My body is a live wire, demanding a release, and when Punky plays with my clit, I think he’s going to give in. But nothing is ever that simple with him.
Rocking my hips, I encourage him to go faster, harder, but just as I gasp, on the cusp of letting go, Punky removes his fingers.
“No!” I cry, slumping forward in desperate anger.
“Imagine that, ye thought we were done,” he mocks, his deep voice filled with humor.
“Fuck you,” I snap, frustrated in every sense of the word, which causes my accent to slip and reveal what I really am…American.
He said he was going to return the favor and frustrate me—mission accomplished. He broke me, just how he knew he could.
“Ach, Amber was right then.” I’m expecting him to push me away and call me out for being the liar that I am, but he doesn’t do that.
He grips my chin, roughly tilts my neck back, and kisses the living fuck out of me. The angle is painful, but I don’t care. All that matters is this.
Our lips can’t keep up with our frantic kisses, and my body is about to explode. I need him to punish me because being an American is just the start of who I am.
“Don’t talk about her when you’re with me this way,” I caution from around his mouth. The relief at being able to expose this small part of myself to him is incredible.
I knew my accent wasn’t perfect, but I thought my performing arts degree, which I was halfway through at a community college in Illinois, would have fooled the locals. But because Amber is American, she saw through the bullshit easily.
“Thon shade of green suits ye.”
He won. I’m officially frustrated and will do anything to appease this hunger within.
Spinning around so we’re pressed chest to chest, I frantically unfasten his buttons. But it’s taking too long. My fingers are trembling with impatience. So, without thought, I fist his shirt and split it down the middle. Buttons scatter all along the floor, and I don’t regret a thing.
He tosses his now ruined shirt to the side, latching onto my nipple as I moan, fumbling with getting his belt buckle undone. Once it’s unfastened, I unbutton his pants and yank down his zipper. The moment I slip my hand down his pants and feel him flesh to flesh, we both moan as the hunger between us just grows.
Punky isn’t wearing any underwear, and that just makes him all the more hotter. I grip his shaft and am overwhelmed by his size. I’ve been with two guys before, but they’re a distant memory because I’ve never felt this desire as I do with Punky.
I commence stroking him, whimpering because it’s sensory overload. I’m getting off by the way Punky suckles my breasts, cupping them so he’s able to indulge himself full, but the guttural growls erupting from his chest as I jerk him off is the biggest turn-on of all.
Knowing I’m the one provoking that response pleases me immensely. My “mission” was to seduce Punky so I’d be able to infiltrate the Kellys’ empire and bring them down—Trojan Horse style. But I don’t need to pretend that I want him; to stop wanting him is the problem.
“Don’t mistake this for weakness,” he growls from around my lips. “If yer a threat…I’ll kill you.”
“I know you will,” I pant, pumping his cock quickly. “But you’ll have to catch me first.”