Dirty Addiction (Dirty 2)

“What about you? What do you do?”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk specifics.”

“No. I’m not going to tell you about me. The more you know, the more it’s likely that you will get attached.”

God, why am I here when this man keeps insulting me? I frown. “I won’t get attached.”

“No?” He raises his eyebrows.

He’s probably right. If I fall for this man, it will only give me more of a reason to run from whomever my father and grandfather have chosen for me.

“Fine.” I sigh. “But I don’t want to tell you about me either.”

If I don’t get to know anything about this man, he doesn’t get to know anything about me.

He nods and takes a slow sip of his drink.

“When are we going to…” my voice says shakily.

/> “Fuck?” he says, finishing my sentence.

Wine slips from my mouth at how easily the word rolled off his tongue. He probably says fuck daily. He probably fucks daily. I’m never going to live up to the girls he’s had before. I try to push that thought out of my head. He chose me, for whatever reason. And he doesn’t have to know how inexperienced I am.

“Come here,” he says, motioning for me to come to him.

I place my glass on the coffee table and walk to him. When I reach him, he remains seated. So, I stand awkwardly in front of him. I fidget with my hands, not sure what he wants me to do.

Killian chuckles a raspy deep chuckle, like he hasn’t used his voice to laugh in a long time. His hand grabs my wrist, and he pulls me hard onto his lap.

He strokes my cheek. “Don’t think, princess.”

I try to listen to his words. I try not to think as his mouth kisses down my neck, leaving warm, wet tingles. I can’t help the tears that begin welling in my eyes. Of all the terms of endearment he could have chosen to use, I can’t believe he chose the one that reminds me of my father, the one nickname my father always used to call me.

When he sees my tears, he softly kisses them with his lips before licking up the salty liquid with his tongue.

“What’s wrong, princess? We don’t have to do this.” He tucks my hair back behind my ear before his hand softly rubs my back. “I just thought you might need it.”

“Why did you call me princess?”

He smiles weakly at me. “Because you are one.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re beautiful.” He softly kisses my hand. “You’re intelligent.” He kisses my other hand. “You’re used to being taken care of.” He softly kisses me on the cheek. “You’re a little too sweet and naive.” He kisses the other cheek. “Your clothes are simple yet expensive.” His kiss brushes softly on my lips. “You should be worshipped.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You’re a princess in every sense of the word.”

I smile at how intuitive he is. He’s picked up a lot about me in the short amount of time we have been together.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, you can call me princess.”

He wipes tears that are still visible on my cheeks. “It’s going to be okay, princess.”

I suck in a breath as he grabs the nape of my neck and kisses me hard on the lips. I moan as his tongue massages mine. His kisses are deep and intense. His kisses are full of purpose.

I hold on to his neck as he kisses me. I’m too unsure of what to do with my hands to do much else even though my hands are tingling to rip off his jacket and buttoned-down shirt to see what lies beneath them.