Date Published: November 25, 2014
Killian Stone paints harpies.
Killian Stone is not into vanilla sex.
Killian Stone suffers from mood swings.
Killian Stone has done something very bad.
The day the painter approaches her on the bridge and asks her to pose for him is the beginning of a lust Melissa won’t be able to bridle. When Killian Stone offers her a month of submission, she’s already too captivated to turn him down. His unhinged sexuality lets her explore her own dark fantasies, but his anger outbursts are scary and devastating. As the time goes by, Melissa realizes there’s something more than just irritability and anger. He has done something which doesn’t let him rest.
Killian didn’t say more but ran after Melissa. She had almost reached the exit. When she saw the already familiar erotic images over the walls, she rushed forward, stumbled upon the iron door, told the guard to open it, and threw herself out of the building. The yellow light of the street pole hurt her eyes after they had been too long in the dark. She looked up, as if searching for solace in the dark skies, and at last took a deep breath of the cold air.
“Melissa!” she heard his voice behind. She didn’t turn. Instead, she took a step, but her legs were losing their strength, and she felt weak in the knees.
“Baby.” He was close now, and she turned around and pushed him in the chest.
“Damn it! What the hell was all that for? What for?”
Laughing, Killian tried to envelop his arms around her, but she shrank back.
“Come here.” He made another attempt to hug her and met resistance again. “Come, stop it. Let me hug you, and you’ll calm down.”
“Leave me!” she yelled louder as Killian forced his arms around her. “Leave me, you…pervert.”
“Baby, sweet thing, little angel, I’m sorry if it scared you,” Killian muttered, pressing her to his chest and rubbing her back. “I didn’t think you were so impressionable. Those were just S and M games in a BDSM dungeon.”
“You said it was a museum!” she cried out, trying to get out of his grip. Killian held her tighter, and her efforts became more vigorous.
“Calm down,” he said, feeling her tears on his neck.
“Why would you do that to me?”
“Let me go! I can’t stand you!” She pushed him harder, but the steel arms weren’t letting her free. The claustrophobic feeling was back again, and Lessi pushed him with all her force. At last he loosened his grip but didn’t let her slip through his hands and kept her at an arm’s length by her shoulders.
Ella Adamian lives in a small country named Armenia and writes in English. She also hides her identity, so that the local law enforcement bodies won’t fine or detain her for her explicit erotic novel “His Name is Killian.” Currently she’s working on the sequel of her first book.