Page 68 of Ricochet
“Fuck off, Cillian.”
“Oooo, so feisty.” He chuckled. “I hope you’re ready for the next round of games.”
“What, are you going to tickle me until I confess all my sins? I’ll pass.”
Something cold pressed against my stomach, and the Einstein in front of me looked like a Cheshire cat, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. Am I going to get bored again?
“Oh no,” I gasped. “You got a gun this time. Oh my, what am I going to do now?”
“You’re such a good little actress, aren’t you?”
“My God.” I faked the tremble of my lower lip. “Please don’t hurt me, Cillian. I’ll tell you everything. Every single thing you want to know.”
“Oh yeah?” Our heads were on the same level now, with me hanging and him standing in front of me, pressing the barrel of the gun into my stomach. “Are you going to confess?”
“Please, Mr. Cillian.” I almost barfed at the amount of crap flowing from my mouth. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I like that. You begging me, you at my mercy.”
“Oh yeah,” I cooed. “Why don’t you come closer?”
I wasn’t really sure if I should be laughing at this whole situation or crying for him. Once upon a time, I would’ve felt bad for him. I would’ve even tried to help him, because Cillian was what I refused to be.
I refused to be someone unable to accept who I truly was. Even after all this time, there was a struggle within him. He was still trying to fight it, trying to lock the other part of him in a box, so that he could suit the needs of other people around him.
He stepped closer, our noses bumping, our breaths mixing together. His pupils dilated, and I did what any sane— or well, insane —woman would do. I pressed my lips to his, pushing as far as I could. He should’ve pushed me away, should’ve punished me for my little, stupid act, but he did neither of those things.
Cillian kissed me back.
He fisted my hair in his hand, tilting my head back, and licked over the seam of my lips, urging me to open up. With the gun pressed between the two of us, he started kissing me harder, our tongues battling for dominance.
Kiss.
Bite.
I bit his tongue, pulling a growl from his chest, and it was like looking at a wild animal, being released into the wilderness. He pressed the gun to my temple, pulling the safety off, but he didn’t stop devouring my mouth.
Push and fucking pull, that’s what the two of us were. Now I regretted it even more for never going after him and instead choosing his brother. Holy fucking hotness on two legs, this fucked-up psycho could kiss.
Unfortunately for me, the same tingling sensation I felt whenever Kieran kissed me was nowhere to be seen. My mind was still very much aware of everything, but it felt good. It felt too good to be stopped, so I used all of my strength and enveloped my legs around his waist, grabbing the ropes with my hands.
The pain ricocheted from my mangled finger, but even that couldn’t deter me from getting to what I wanted to have.
“Fuck,” he murmured against my lips, as I started rubbing myself on the bulge in his pants. My skin was on fire, and I needed him to remove my panties and the bra that felt like a heavy weight holding me down.
“Take it off,” I instructed between kisses. “Take your pants off.”
“What if I don’t want to, birdy?”
“Don’t fucking mess with me right now, Cillian. Take. Your. Pants. Off.”
I bit his jaw, soothing the spot with a kiss. Whatever was on his mind before this obviously disappeared, because in the next moment, the belt hit the ground and I untangled my legs from him, as he started unbuttoning his pants.
Kinky son of a bitch didn’t wear any underwear.
He picked the belt up, and I could see the condom in his other hand.
“Do you always carry condoms around the house?” I asked, to which he grinned, the boyish expression throwing me off guard. Who the fuck was this person in front of me?
