King of Depravity: Chapter 15

We get back to Killian’s in the late afternoon. He immediately orders me soup, which sounds amazing, and I change into comfy leggings and a tank top, then return to my easel.

The place we looked at with the real estate agent was the nicest place I’ve ever seen in my life. A luxury condo with every amenity in the world including vaulted ceilings, high-end appliances, and a shower that had like six heads. I didn’t even know that existed. That doesn’t even include the private elevator that opened right into the place. It was ridiculous.

But I love the light in Killian’s place, and I don’t even turn on the overhead lights as I paint by the rays of the afternoon sun.

Killian doesn’t say a word, just lets me work.

Just like yesterday, he feeds me and sits on the couch, stripping off his shirt before he does.

With a smile, I keep painting.

“Do you want to be a painter, like in your heart of hearts?” he asks as he lounges.

I straighten up, my brush perched over the canvas. “Do I want to sell paintings that I’ve made?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always assumed I couldn’t. That no one would buy them because they weren’t good enough, or that I didn’t have the connections to make it happen.” I shift as I nip at my lip. “But, if we’re talking heart of hearts, I’m not sure I want to sell them. It’s so personal for me. They’re all about what makes me sad or happy, they are my diary.”

Killian gets up then, walking toward me, but I hold out my hand. “Stop. Don’t come any closer.”

“Why?”

“Because,” I lift my shoulders, giving him a side eye, “this painting is a surprise.”

“A surprise for me?” His gaze lights and sparks. It makes my chest tight to see the life in them, the stars that shine in the dark brown depths.

I point my paint brush back toward the couch. “No peaking when I’m not here, either.”

He walks backward, keeping his eyes locked on me. “No one but my mother gives me anything.”

I’ve met his brothers, so of course, he has a mother. But Killian was so emotionally cut off when I met him, I’m having a hard time even picturing him with parents. “Are you close to her?”

“She’s one of my favorite people in the world.”

I cock my head as I consider those words. Maybe that tracks. He has softened to me very quickly, treating me like something precious rather than a thing to be used and thrown away. “Is your father as important?”

“My father is dead, but we were never close.” I hear the hardness that creeps into his voice, watch his muscles tense. Setting the palette and the brush aside, I close the distance between us.

I’ve got a bit of paint on my hands, but he doesn’t hesitate, pulling me into his arms, as he sits on the couch and folds me into his lap. “Was he like a workaholic, being a duke or whatever?” I try to ask a follow-up question that might help me understand without pushing too much. I can feel Killian’s resistance.

“He wasn’t a duke, and he barely worked. He mostly lived a lavish life as a spare to the dukedom, running up amazing debts.”

Ouch. I wrap my arms around him. “What happened?”

He shakes his head looking at the far wall, but his eyes have taken on that same dead look they had when I first met him. His touch, however, is still gentle. “He died of a heart attack, but it was obvious that it was at least partially drug-induced. The debts were a problem, but we’ve tackled that as a family. Tris and Gris both have an excellent business sense, so they were able to correct his mistakes and then some.”

“I can hear that he’s hurt you, Killian.” I slide my fingers into his hair. “What happened?”

But, instead of answering, he stands as he sets me back on my feet. “Nothing. Work on your painting while there is still light.”

I start to ask him again. I shared my worst memory with him. But before I can get the words out, he’s shrugging past me, heading to the kitchen. “I’m getting some water. Want a glass?”

“No thank you,” I whisper, still watching him. His shoulders are stiff, his posture defensive.

With a sigh, I head back to my easel, giving Killian several long glances as he leans against the counter, his back to me. He sips his water, the muscles in his back flexing with his movements.

“Killian,” I call.

“Yeah,” he answers, half looking over his shoulder but not making eye contact.

“I…thanks for having me here.”

He turns then, his body relaxing. “You’re welcome, baby girl.”

“Tomorrow or the next day, I’ll maybe get some more stuff, if you’re all right with me staying for a bit?”

He starts toward me again, all the darkness gone. “Of course I am, and I’ll come with you to help.”

I nod and then pick up my brush. Whatever Killian’s father did, the wound is deep. Deep enough that it’s what makes him dark.

He’s not ready for me to pry into it, but we’ve got a tit-for-tat thing going, and if I can tell him, then he can share with me too.

I paint for another hour before I lose the light. I could turn on all the overhead lighting, Killian’s place is amazing like that. But I’m tired and I’ve been hearing about this bed for a few days now. So instead, I go to the sink and wash out my brushes.

“Done?” he asks, where he’s reading his phone on the couch.

“For today,” I say. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been short on sleep.”

“Yeah.” He walks across the room, I hear the thud of his feet on the cement before he presses his front to my back. “Bed sounds like an excellent idea.”

I smile, knowing we’re thinking the same thing. No man has ever made more of a difference in my life and since we’re all about exchanging favors, it’s time I showed him just how much I appreciate what he’s done for me.

My hands are still in the water as he slides his over my hips, pulling my ass tighter into the cradle of his hips.

He nuzzles into my neck, nipping and sucking at the soft flesh at the base. I lean my head back on his shoulder, the feel of his body and his hands like a balm.

For a moment yesterday, I was a victim again. And then Killian came crashing in, throwing all kinds of protections around me.

I’ve been living on my own, afraid to trust, but now that I’ve let him in…it’s amazing how much easier every part of my life feels.

He slides his hands from my hips, across my belly, and then between my legs, cupping my mound in his giant palm. We both groan, my hands frozen in the warm water spilling from the faucet, as my body shivers with desire.

He runs a finger along my seam, his other hand spreading out over my stomach. “Going to bed early is fun,” he rumbles close to my ear and then chuckles.

I laugh too, finally dropping my brushes in the sink before I turn off the water. “I just need to clean up⁠—”

“Tomorrow,” he says, sliding his finger between my legs again. “Right now, we’ve got a date.”

“This is a date?”

He’s kissing down my neck again. “As close as I get.”

I look back then, even as he circles my clit through my leggings. “Let me see. You’ve fed me three times today, watched me paint, took me to a job interview and a real estate showing. I think it might be like fifty dates all rolled into one.”

His fingers still as he straightens. “I suck at dating.” Then he smiles. “To be expected, I suppose.”

“I don’t think you suck at it,” I shake my head. But I mentally add that it would be easy for me to lose my head and my heart to this man.

And while I’m wide open to Killian, tonight made it clear that he’s still got a lot of walls up.

It’s funny, because we started in the most unconventional way possible, but I have somehow come to the conclusion that Killian is a catch. The kind of guy every girl dreams of landing.

Protective. Helpful. Strong. But he still leaves room for me and what I need. I doubt I’m the girl that gets to have that for too long.

Wasn’t Gris trying to tell me that today?

Whatever the future holds, I’m going to enjoy Killian for as long as I’ve got him.

“Maybe it’s just casual dating I’m no good at.”

A laugh bursts from my lips. “I will agree with that. Nothing has been low-key since the moment I met you.”

He laughs too, but his finger is still rhythmically sliding between my legs, a light touch that has me getting all sorts of tense. “We’ll take the rest of our relationship at whatever pace you’re comfortable, sweetheart.”

I turn then, my wet hands sliding up his bare back. “I like your pace just fine, Killian.” And then I kiss him.

He holds me close, kissing me back, his tongue sliding into my mouth as his hands cup my ass, pulling me tight against him.

My answer is to lift one of my legs, wrapping it around the back of his, opening up to him.

He rumbles against my lips, the vibration making me ache, as he grabs my knee and pulls the leg up to his waist. It makes his cock press right into my most sensitive parts. “Mmm,” I moan into his mouth, my body arching deeper into his.

He massages my ass, making my clit rub against his rock-hard tip. “Yeah, baby girl,” he says between kisses. “Make all the noise you want. Want me to lick your pussy?”

I throb at the idea and then gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through me.

He lets out a deep satisfied chuckle against my lips. “I love having your cum on my face.”

Then he’s lifting me, my other leg wrapping around his waist as he carries me through the loft.

I lift my head long enough to marvel at his strength, the way he doesn’t strain while supporting my weight, before he captures my mouth with his again, the kiss demanding every ounce of my attention.

Holding onto his neck, my fingers dig into his skin as I squeeze him with my thighs, rubbing up and down his stiff cock.

He kicks open his bedroom door, barely breaking the kiss. It isn’t until my back hits the mattress that I open my eyes. The setting sun fills the room with enough light that I can take in the room.

There is nothing but a bed and a single nightstand. But he’s right. The bed is huge.

The linens are all a crisp white, and I break the kiss to turn my face and brush my cheek across them. “Soft,” I murmur, letting go of his neck with one of my hands to smooth my palm over the comforter.

“You’re going to be very comfortable sleeping here,” he says, even as he kisses along my jaw, before he reaches my earlobe and sucks the sensitive flesh between his teeth.

“You have a blanket or something?” I ask, my eyes fluttering closed as he sucks at my neck, making my skin sensitive with all the sensation.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get all these beautiful things dirty…”

“Fuck that,” he rumbles into my collarbone. “I want the smell of you all over my bed.”

“Oh,” I gasp, flushing with pleasure, as he yanks at the hem of my tank top, pulling it up my body and over my head. He takes advantage of the way I have to lift, to unclip my bra.

Then he’s back on top of me, his bare chest rubbing against mine. He feels so good, I let out a groan, threading my hands into his hair.

But he doesn’t stay still for long. Dipping lower, he sucks one nipple between his lips, palming the other, before he switches, my back arching off the bed to give him more access.

Which only encourages him to start kissing down my stomach, hooking the waistband of my leggings to shimmy them down my hips.

They only make it to my knees, however, when his mouth lines up with my pussy and he dives in, tongue first. I’m so sensitive, I scream out, a little pain, a lot of pleasure setting me on fire.

He rips my leggings the rest of the way off before he spreads me wide and dives back in.