Chapter 54
fifty-four
brIAR
“Cillian—I can’t—I—”
My devil’s lips curl, brushing my shoulder as his cock leaves a smear of smoky pre-cum against my lower back.
“You’re doing so well, darling. Just a little more for me.”
Oh God.
Oh, yes.
Chains rattle overhead and from my ankles, but the sturdy four-poster frame doesn’t shudder. The hot, strong hand rolling my nipple slides down my sweat-misted torso. Until just the very tips of his long fingers graze my swollen, pulsing clit.
Cillian chuckles darkly when I yank at the leather cuffs molded around my wrists. “Let’s try again,” he murmurs. As if he’s here to encourage rather than torment me.
“I already answered you,” I mewl, whining exactly like the brat he claims I am. “Why can’t I come yet?”
His smirk grows into a full-blown grin, true joy shining behind his lust. “You’ll get what you want when I get what I need.” He spanks the soaked lips of my pussy. My body tightens as I gasp, the thin gold plug in my back hole slipping deeper.
Fucking fuck.
It turns out my collar is part of an elaborate set. One my husband presented me with before trussing me up beside his bed and working me into eighteen almost-orgasms. All with the elegant bullet-shaped butt plug pressing its solid weight on the other side of my pussy’s desperately clenching walls.
His second thwack is sharper, leaving a heated sting on my ass cheek. I moan and growl at the same time, thrashing as I meet his burning eyes.
“Now. Again,” he insists. “Have you made your choice, Briar?”
I answer the same way I have every time, practically shouting, “Yes! Cillian—I choose you.”
His cock ticks fuller against the top of my backside. “Good,” he hums, flicking my throbbing nub. “Now tell me why.”
This is the part I can’t seem to get right. I’ve tried every answer my addled brain can conjure. From “Because we’re mates” to a string of insulting curses. At one point, I nearly burst into tears.
Cillian only paused his ministrations and asked if I needed my safe word. We chose one together once he finished showing me the solid gold restraints and personalized leather cuffs waiting for me.
Caviar.
Since we both know I hate it.
When I spat a tart “No,” he held me for a long moment, purring until I started to writhe, once again begging for the thick slide of his cock. A twist of the plug. Some real attention on my clit.
Anything.
I sob a groan, bucking against his naked, muscled body. Cillian curses under his breath, using his free hand to fist my heart lock and tug. My airway closes behind the thick chain, capturing my full attention.
“Look around you, Briar,” he growls, carefully yanking the collar toward his dark, open closet. “At the hundreds of thousands’ worth of clothes and jewelry I’ve been buying for years. Selecting things I knew you’d love. Storing them until you were ready to see—to know—how fucking obsessed I am.”
My lungs burn, the lack of air forcing my body to soften. Allowing my mind to sharpen. Absorbing what he’s saying.
Jesus, does he really have a whole secret wardrobe in there? Why is that so perfectly easy to believe?
He pulls on the chain again, guiding my focus to the opposite side of his mattress. Specifically, the bedpost beside his nightstand…
Where a pair of black pointe shoes dangle beside his pillow.
My ballet slippers.
He must have stolen them back after the night I danced. Have they been in here all along? Why?
He answers before I can ask. “Look. See what you’ve done to me. How I couldn’t fucking sleep without a piece of you beside me. The way your initials inked into the bottom have been traced by my fingertips a thousand fucking times. brB—Briar Rose Blackwood.”
He lets up on the collar, giving me a large gulp of sweet, smoky cloves. “Now tell me. Tell me why you’ve chosen me. This. Us.”
I can’t think anymore. I can only feel. The swell of emotion swamping my guts, his ruthless fingers pinching the slick lips of my cunt. The knot beating fuller against my ass.
Oh God. Oh God.
I see the truth.
I know the answer.
“You love me!” I blurt, panting. “You did all of this… because you love me. And I’m choosing you because… I want you to.”
Cillian goes utterly still, letting me scrape the last of my sobbed confession out. “Because I think I might… be able to love you, too. All of you.”
My husband’s stuttered exhale tickles my nape. His hands suddenly fly to my hips, kneading hard. “Good girl,” he rasps, leaning his forehead against my shoulder. “My smart, gorgeous mate. Of course I love you. I couldn’t have helped myself if I’d wanted to.”
The pounding organ in my chest somersaults, sinking into a warm pool of bliss. Cillian’s hands pet my sides gently, soothing my restless breathing. “I know, omega,” he adds next. “You’re ready to come for me now.”
He suddenly reaches up, unclasping my cuffs, carefully lowering and massaging my arms. His bone-rattle purr rolls into a pussy-melting growl. “Right after you present.”
It’s official.
Cillian Blackwood is my alpha.
His knot rubs my tender walls as he cuddles me closer, continuing his elaborate after-care. It started with him carrying me, still locked against him, into his bathroom.
He cleaned my skin with a warm washcloth, then spent ten minutes brushing tangles out of my hair. I’m not sure what sort of magic system he devised with Coggins, but when we reemerged, the bed was perfectly clean and two bottles of chilled water waited on the nightstand.
Cillian proceeded to snuggle me into his lap, feeding me small sips and purring loud enough to drown out all rational thought.
By the time I crack my eyes open, it’s late. I feel him massaging my neck, his wedding band cool against my skin. I reach back, tugging his hand to the space in front of my face, eyeing his ring.
“I’m surprised you didn’t burst into flames in that church, devil.”
My husband chuckles, his smile wry and dazzling. “That was a shock to us all.”
I burrow a little closer, squashing a pinch of shyness by averting my eyes. Staring at his neatly groomed chest hair as I mumble, “Why did we get married there? I mean, did it really matter?”
Cillian stills for a beat before sliding his arm around my waist, weaving his fingers into the loose hair at my nape. He pulls slightly, tilting my face to his.
“Yes,” he replies, icy eyes burning. “I needed our marriage to be real in every way imaginable. Legally. Spiritually. And—”
I swallow the hoarse lump in my throat, barely able to get out a whispered, “And?”
Earnestness looks so good on him—all solemn and steady.
“I didn’t know if it would be important to you, one day.
Once I was able to tell you that we were mates, I wanted you to feel like our marriage was as real as it could have possibly been, given the circumstances. I wanted it to feel real for me, too.”
My heart cracks, the final wall around it crumbling into dust. But he isn’t done. Just like his edging—this alpha is determined to ruin me thoroughly.
“I meant those vows, Briar Rose Blackwood,” he murmurs.
They run through my mind on a loop. Forcing me to realize; he sounded exactly like this on our wedding day, too. So sure and sincere.
In sickness and in health. For richer, for poorer. Better and worse. Until death do us part.
Cillian’s gaze smolders, warming my bones as he adds a new oath. “Every single word is branded on my soul. And if those promises are the only words this devil ever gets to say to God? I consider them well-spent.”