DariaKillian throws me onto his bed, one we picked up from IKEA a few days back. The sheets are new and white, soft beneath my palms as Killian climbs on all fours. He is like an entirely different person, raw, hungry, sexy, and dominant. There is nothing soft about his eyes, and warmth pool between my legs, seeing the smirk on his lips.I'm not only wet between my legs—I'm gushing, and my panties are damp and uncomfortable. Killian is standing on his knees, showcasing his shelf-like pectoral muscles, and I take in a long, deep breath, committing this image to my long-term memory."Take off everything."I gulp but do as I'm told, slipping off my sweater with shaky hands. My stomach is in knots. I'm super self-conscious after seeing how insanely sexy Killian looks naked, and the man is also equipped with the largest cock I've ever seen.What is weird is that I never had this problem with Wilder. I was never scared, but with Killian, I'm afrai

SmithI'm not traveling with the boys to where the filming is being held, and this will be the first time I leave Wilder's side. Both Phoenix brothers have asked me to look after Daria. Therefore, I will stay, but I'm helping Wilder with his bags at the airport.Things are going relatively well until I spot Killian staring down into his phone with earphones plugged in. My British senses immediately start tingling, and I almost choke on my tea when Wilder freezes when he sees his younger brother.Wilder roars. "I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"Bloody hell—here we go.With widened eyes, I watch Wilder swing wildly at his brother. Killian dodges the right hook and stares at his brother, entirely shocked. He looks more spooked than how I feel—I knew this fight was bound to happen sooner than later."WHAT THE HELL, MAN?! WATCH THE FACE!" Killian yells at Wilder, rubbing his cheek that his brother managed to brush with his knuckles.Wi

Killian When Daria didn't want to stay the night with me, I knew it was her way of rejecting me. The girl I had fallen deeply in love with didn't feel the same way about me—sure, Daria felt attracted to my body, but the emotions I wished to be there were non-existent. In the beginning, it hurt to think about her name, but now, almost four months later, I'm over Daria. I'm not in love with her anymore. Okay, she is constantly on my brain, but so what? It doesn't necessarily mean that I still love her! And only because it hurts whenever she calls me, probably to say she is sorry for rejecting me, doesn't mean that my heart still belongs to her! I'm fine. I've been seeing another woman—Jenny, one of my co-stars on The Dragon Throne, and we are out shopping for Halloween right now. We are walking down the street, followed by a handful of bodyguards. "I love what they did to the fountain!" Jenny chirps and smiles at the water splashing in front of

Killian For almost two weeks straight, Daria spent every night keeping up with the Bachelor with me on my couch before I left to film The Dragon Throne. In those two weeks, I bonded and got to know her on a deeper plane until I knew her better than some people I've known for years. There is something special about that girl. Talking with Daria is so natural. She seldom judges a person, and she always intently listens and hangs on to every word I say, which makes me feel like I'm the most critical person in the world, like she only has eyes for me. But more than that, she is a girl who sees the light even when the world seems so dark. The first time I heard Daria's beautiful voice, she sounded like an angel, and she immediately became my beacon, the special girl leading me back into the light. And when I met her again, I found out her humor and laughter are two addictive things. Sure, I knew Daria loved my brother, but that still didn't stop me from ga

KillianEating pizza with a silent Daria and a smirking Brooklyn felt awkward, so I left to go to the bathroom, wash my face with cold water to calm my bouncing nerves. But somehow, I ended up wandering into Daria's bedroom instead.I want to punch myself. Hard. With a rock. Her scent lured me here, and like a fool, I let my pulsating cock take me further into her room.I'm such a horny idiot—a slave to that woman sitting in the kitchen with those doe-eyes and sleek pants, hugging her ass.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Why did I waltz into here?I shouldn't be sitting on her bed, and I definitely shouldn't be holding her dirty underwear in my right hand. My heart is beating a mile per minute, head screaming, "What the fuck are you doing, mate?" into my ear, and yet, I press the fabric to my nose and inhale.Am I a desperate, horny bastard pinning for the woman who wants nothing to do with him? Yes, I find myself guilty as charged.Bu