Call me a jealous slag, but warmth fills my chest. “Me either.”

He gives me a squeeze. “I didn’t plan this. I mean, I’ve fantasized about it constantly, yeah. But I didn’t think it would happen tonight.”

This endears him to me even more. I wrap my arm around his broad shoulders and kiss his cheek. “I know.” If I had any sense, I’d have stocked up on my own.

“I’m clean,” he says, almost hopefully. “Never gone without a condom before. Test regularly. I should have said all that before.”

“I am too.” I wriggle a little beneath him, because he feels so damn good against me. The tip of his cock is broad and hot. It actually hurts not having him push into me, I want it so badly. “But I’m not on birth control.”

He sighs and, as if he can’t help himself, rocks his hips just a bit. That thick, wide head nudges me. We both make a noise of want. I close my eyes, lick my swollen lips. “Killian…”

“Just the tip, baby,” he whispers, half laughing-half groaning. “I swear, I’ll be good.”

I laugh too. Not much, though, because I’m tempted. But he doesn’t push it.

His body trembles, his muscles locked tight. “I’m going to the store.”

“The power is out. It’ll be closed.”

Killian whimpers, his cheek resting against mine. “I’m going to cry.”

I snort, but I empathize. I want to cry too.

“I’m serious,” he grumbles as his body shakes. “Full-out man-baby bawling.” With a groan, he rolls off me and flops onto his back. Naked and glistening with sweat, he’s so beautiful, I have to grip the sheets to keep from jumping on him.

Breathing deep, he rests his forearm over his eyes. “Just give me a minute. Or sixty. Or kill me. That might be better.”

“Drama llama.” I laugh and then launch myself at him.

He catches me with an oof, his arms going around me instantly. I kiss his damp neck, licking a spot—salty, tasty Killian—and he groans. “Libby. You’re really going to kill me.”

“Mmm…” I kiss my way along his jaw. “Just because we can’t fuck doesn’t mean we can’t do other things.”

His hands slide down my back, possessive, hauling me closer. “Don’t say fuck in that sexy voice of yours. I might come right here and now.”

I nip his chin. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He scowls, nipping me back. “I would. It would be humiliating.” He smiles a little. “At least before I got you off.”

“You already did. Thoroughly.” I kiss his lips, soft, slow, then pull away, loving that he follows, wanting more. I give him another one. “Let me get you off now.”

His hips nudge against my belly, that thick cock jumping. “It won’t take much.” He nudges again, a little more insistent. “Just put your mouth on it. Give it a little lick. I’ll blow like a fucking canon.”

I smile as I skim my lips down his chest. His hands slide into my hair and cup the back of my head, not pushing, just holding me. His abs twitch, those tight muscles clenching. I could touch him for days.

My tongue dips into his little belly button and he groans, his body stretching taut. But when I move lower, his head jerks up. “Libs, wait—”

He shuts up as I come face to face with his cock. And gape like a frightened fish.

“Uh…” I say. And then I remember a joke I once heard in college. About Killian. One of the girls at a party had called him Don’t Kill-Me-an. Because, as she had laughingly explained, groupies claimed his dick was so thick and long that a girl was in danger of being split in two. I don’t want to think about Killian and other women. At all. But the evidence is staring me right in the face.

He lifts up on his elbows, which does lovely things to his abs. He’s panting faintly, his chest gleaming in the evening light. “Yeah, about that.”

I hold up a shaking hand to silence him. “Just…let me get acquainted.”

Because his dick? It’s big enough to need its own name. Maybe its own address. Sure, I’ve seen it before, but he was hanging limp and cursed with a severe case of whisky dick at the time. Now it’s hard as iron and thrusting upward as if begging to be stroked.

I oblige the beast, gently running my hand over its silky, hot length, and it twitches, nudging against me. He has a beautiful dick, tawny colored, well-shaped, and straight, the tip wide and smooth. Beautiful. And on steroids or something. Because it’s just…

I wrap my fingers around it, and my sex clenches. I can imagine this meaty girth pushing its way into me. It’d be rude work, filled with raw grunts and deep groans. I clench again, giving him a squeeze. So very firm.

“We’ll go slow,” he rasps, almost desperate as I slowly trace the wide, round crown of his cock.

“Yeah, we will,” I mutter.

“And you don’t have to— Oh, fuck, that’s good,” he groans as I lean over him and suck on the fat tip. It fills my entire mouth, the crown fitting into the curved roof. And I groan too, because it is so good sucking on him. Better than anything has a right to be.

Killian mutters rough curses, makes pained, pleading noises as I work him, sucking and stroking—because there is no way to take all of him in. I’m so turned on, I can’t be still. Just the sight of him, his strong arms stretched overhead, hands wrapped around my wrought iron headboard, his abs bunching, his hips rocking, sends heat rushing through me. I suck him deep, lick around the weeping head.

His dark brows knit, his lips parting as he whispers my name again and again. His thick thigh slides between mine and pushes hard against my aching sex. I groan against his cock.

We come together, Killian filling my mouth, me riding his thigh with shameless abandon. I stay with him until he softens against my tongue. He’s panting hard when I release him and rest my head against his firm stomach.

His hand smooths over my hair. “I’m dead,” he whispers, then hauls me up, wrapping me in his arms. His lips find mine. “You’ve killed me.”

I stroke his damp temple. “Good. Then I can have my way with you all night. And you won’t be able to protest.”

“Do your worst. I’ll just lie here and take it.”

We might not have the damn condoms, but he keeps me well satisfied for hours, until I fall into a dreamless sleep, Killian’s strong body pressed against me. Even as I fall, I want to hold on, stay awake. Because being this happy cannot be real. It can’t last. Can it?