11. Nova
Chapter eleven
Nova
W alking to our suite is a true test in patience. I want to run, jump, and scream that we did it. I want to dance down the hallways as we make our way back. Cillian looped in footage for the stairwell so we wouldn’t have to go through the lobby and run into anyone. Though we’re still in disguise, the fewer people who see us, the better. The urge to yell in the stairwell is nearly too much to resist, but I contain myself.
As soon as Cillian and I walk into the suite and he shuts the door behind him, I jump into his arms and let out the squeal I was holding back.
“We did it,” I exclaim, peppering kisses all over his face and neck.
The large duffel bag he was carrying drops to the floor, and he laughs, holding me tightly against his chest. He lifts me off the floor before walking us both to the bar in the living room. He sets me down and looks me straight in the eye.
“You were amazing. Are amazing.” His palms cup both of my cheeks before he shakes his head and releases a little chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong. I had every faith we’d pull this off, but damn, I have to admit it feels fucking good.”
Cillian releases me and walks around behind the bar to retrieve a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring a healthy splash in each before handing me one.
“To us.” He holds up his glass and clinks it against mine. The whiskey burns as it goes down. I don’t think I’ll ever be used to drinking it straight like Cillian does.
“Aren’t we supposed to cheers with an expensive bottle of champagne or something?”
Cillian smiles and grabs a soda from the fridge, adding a little to my glass. I take another sip. Ah, much better.
“Not if you’re Irish. We toast with whiskey for just about everything.”
“Have you ever tried a whiskey 7?”
Cillian scoffs. “I was taught that’s sacrilege.”
“By whom?”
“The boss of the Irish mob. Both of them actually.”
I take another sip of my drink and hum in appreciation. “Well, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’ll have a taste.”
I hand him my glass, but he shakes his head. Instead, he grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me partway over the bar to meet his mouth before plunging his tongue inside. His twirls and teases mine with deep strokes as though he has all the time in the world to explore my mouth. When he breaks the kiss, his tongue dances across my lips before pulling back, but only slightly, still keeping my neck in his grasp. I love this demanding side of Cillian that comes out to play every so often. I’ve been on my own for so long, always having to be strong and in control. Sometimes it’s nice to turn a bit of that over to the man in front of me. Even if it’s just for a little while—until he gets back to his life and I start my new one.
“You're right,” he whispers against my wet lips. “Delicious. But I still prefer it straight.”
Cillian releases my neck, and I fall back onto my heels as he casually walks around the bar to stand in front of me. The hungry look in his eyes sends flutters through my chest, to my belly, and then shoots down my legs. I’m still high from scoring the biggest single take I ever have, but the way Cillian looks like he’s ready to devour me is making it near impossible to form any other thoughts, to have any other wants except letting him fulfill every decadent promise he holds in his steely-gray gaze.
His hand reaches for the front of the red wig I’m wearing, and he pulls it off along with the cap that’s under to keep my real hair in place. His fingers tousle the long, dark strands that spill out.
Cillian leans in and gently brushes his lips against mine. “There she is,” he whispers before slamming his mouth to mine again.
His hands move to my shoulders and he roughly pulls the straps of my dress down, causing the top to fall, exposing my breasts to him. Cillian nibbles his way down my neck, nipping at the skin of my collarbone before trailing his tongue down. His tongue circles my nipple, then he pulls it into his mouth, sucking hard. My hands tangle in his dark hair, and the bar digs into my back as I arch into his touch. A hiss escapes through my teeth when Cillian bites down. He runs his tongue over the stinging flesh, then gently blows on it to relieve the twinge of pain.
He stands to his full height and takes a small step back before looking over my shoulder and grabbing something behind me.
“Time for another shot,” he says, a sly grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
He tilts the bottle of whiskey and pours a small amount over my breast before his head dips and he licks and sucks the whiskey from my nipple.
“Mmm. Tastes good straight. Especially from your gorgeous fucking tits.”
My hands grab the bar behind me to keep myself upright as he repeats the action over my other nipple, and a deep groan of satisfaction rumbles from his throat.
“My dress is going to smell like a distillery,” I say, feeling the wet fabric against my waist.
“Can’t have that.” Cillian steps away and pulls the dress from my hips, allowing the soft fabric to fall in a puddle around my feet. His hand begins rubbing my center through the damp fabric of my panties as his tongue licks the remaining whiskey from my skin.
Cillian’s fingers are taking me to the brink of orgasm, even with the barrier of lace between his touch and my pussy, but I want more.
“Fuck. Stop teasing me,” I groan, yanking on his hair.
He lifts his head from my breast, and he has that damn smirk on his face again.
“You need to learn patience, Nova. I haven’t finished my drink yet.”
Cillian grabs my waist and sets me on the bar, spreading my knees apart as he stares at the damp spot at my center before his teeth scrape over his bottom lip. My panties are a little wet from the alcohol, but mostly from how fucking turned on I am right now.
“Lean back,” he says before he grabs the bottle and pours a shot between my breasts. He watches the liquid spill down my center and over my pussy before he meets my gaze and bends down, moving my panties to the side, then licking the whiskey from my center.
“Fuck,” I cry out when his tongue meets my clit. He swirls it round and round before sucking it into his mouth. I have to lock my elbows, so I don’t fall backward. What this man does with his mouth is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. He eats at me with ferocity and hunger, like I’m his favorite meal on the planet and he can’t get enough. He growls against my skin, and I feel the orgasm building, tingles rushing to the tips of my toes. I move one hand to the back of his head and grab a fistful of hair, anchoring myself against his face.
“Fuck. I’m going to come,” I pant out.
Cillian slides two fingers into my trembling channel, and that’s all it takes for me to detonate. I scream into the hotel room, chanting a string of obscenities over and over as the orgasm rushes through me. Cillian continues pumping his fingers inside me, licking my clit as his groans send delicious vibrations through me. He stands straight and takes my mouth in a brutal kiss, his fingers still inside of me, slowly pumping in and out.
The taste of whiskey mixed with my arousal on his tongue invades my mouth. The erotic flavor of my release combined with his drink of choice is a heady combination.
When Cillian lifts me from the bar top, my legs wrap around his waist, the bulge behind his zipper rubbing against my core with each step he takes. He walks us to the bedroom while my mouth tastes his neck, the same way he likes to taste mine with his lips, tongue, and little bites here and there. Cillian lets out one of his panty-dropping groans, and his fingers dig into my ass before he throws me on the giant bed.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt.
“Finally,” I reply, slipping my drenched panties off and throwing them at him.
He catches the material, shoves them into his bag sitting on the settee, and pulls out a condom, tossing it on the bed. “Those are mine now.”
“Oh, my God. Are you a panty thief? Do you go around stealing women’s underwear?”
“You threw them at me. I get to keep them. Fair and square.” He shrugs out of his shirt and unfastens his pants, pulling down his zipper and letting them fall to the floor. “Now, spread your legs and play with your clit.”
“Demanding.”
“You have a problem with it?”
“Not at all,” I tell him, doing as instructed and bending my knees before letting them fall open. I run my hand over my pussy before circling my clit with my middle finger. My back arches and my other hand instinctively goes to my breast, pinching and twisting my nipple as I pleasure myself in front of Cillian.
“Goddamn, you look so good. Is that what you did when you thought about me last month? Would you run your hand over your cunt and fuck your fingers, wishing it was my cock?”
I let out a whimper and a jerky nod. God, this feels so good.
“Slide a finger inside yourself. Feel how wet and tight you are. But don’t make yourself come. I’ll be the one who gets that honor.”
When I slide one finger, then two, inside of myself, my hips buck off the bed. Having him standing there, watching me fuck myself with my fingers and the heel of my palm rubbing deliciously against my clit, it’s making it nearly impossible not to come.
Cillian pulls his boxers down his long legs and fists his cock, running it through his hand in long, slow strokes.
He walks closer to the bed and runs his palm over the inside of my thigh, staring at my hand and the wetness dripping from my center onto the sheets.
“I thought about you like this. The weeks I was away. I wished I’d kissed you that night. The second I got on that plane back to Boston, I wanted to turn right around and fly back down here, knock on your door and devour every inch of you.”
“You should have,” I pant, closing in on the orgasm he told me not to give myself.
“Then I wouldn’t have had a chance to plan all the ways I was going to make you come once I saw you again.”
“You’re a smart guy; I’m sure you would have improvised.”
“Mmm. That mouth of yours…” His voice trails off as his eyes stay transfixed on my center while he kneels on the bed between my thighs. “Give me your hand.”
When I pull my fingers from my core, he grabs them and immediately sucks them into his mouth.
“I can’t get enough of the way you taste, Nova. Fuck. I want to eat you out every day and hear you scream my name over and over again when I make you come.”
I’ve never had a man say half the things Cillian says or make me feel half as desired as he makes me feel. It’s doing all kinds of things to my heart that I’m in no position to look at, so I don’t.
Cillian leans over and grabs the condom from where it’s sitting on the mattress and tears the wrapper open with his teeth. Once he’s sheathed himself, he prowls up my body, looking like a starving lion ready to devour his prey.
My legs wrap around his waist, ready for him to finally sink inside me, but he flips us, him landing on his back with a cocky grin on his face.
“Take what you want from me while I watch you bounce on my cock.”
I lift myself and stare down at the sexy-as-sin man beneath me, staring with heated anticipation. Goddamn, is he a sight.
As I sink down onto him, his thick erection stretches me deliciously. My head tips back. “God, you feel so good like this,” I whimper as I begin to slowly move up and down, leaning back and resting my hands on his thighs for support.
“Fuck, you should see how beautifully your tight pussy takes me.” When I look at Cillian, his jaw is set in a firm line as his gaze stays laser-focused on where we’re connected. “You’re so fucking wet. That pretty pussy is drenching my cock.”
His words spur me on, ratcheting up my desire, my fierce need to come just like this. My pace quickens, and Cillian lets out a hiss.
“God. I’m going to come too fast if you keep that up.”
A smile graces my lips, and I double my efforts.
“That’s how you want to play it? Fine by me,” Cillian says, his own challenging gaze meeting mine.
When his hands grasp my hips, he slams me even harder onto his cock. I didn’t think he could get any deeper than he was, but the man does enjoy proving to me he can achieve the unthinkable. His own hips leave the mattress as he pumps up in me, taking control of my movements and fucking me from the bottom.
And holy shit. Cillian is a man possessed. And he’s apparently trying to kill me by fucking me to death, but what a fantastic way to go.
The orgasm comes on hard and fast, and I scream out as Cillian continues to piston into me, his gaze never leaving mine. When he slams me onto him again one last time, his grip tightens on my hips—sure to leave little bruises where his fingertips dig into me.
“Fuuuck,” he bellows, and his cock jerks inside me, his body practically shaking with each twitch. He releases my hips and rubs his hands back and forth on my thighs as we’re both still panting hard and trying to catch our breaths. A bead of sweat trails down my spine, eliciting a shiver along with the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“Fuck, baby, keep that up and I’ll be fucking you again in about five seconds.”
I giggle softly and pull myself off of him with a groan. “I think I need a couple minutes to recover.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be the guy’s line?”
Cillian’s arm wraps around me when I settle next to him, my fingertips trailing over his sweat-slicked chest as his glide over my waist in slow, languid movements.
“I think you broke me.”
“Hmm,” he replies with a quizzical look in his eyes. “Let’s see.” He rolls to his side, facing me as he brings his fingers to the apex of my thighs, gently rubbing me before slipping past my lower lips. When my breath hitches with the exquisite sensation of him grazing my clit with the tip of his finger, he lets out a soft growl. “I think she still works perfectly well. In fact, I don’t think she even needs five minutes.” He continues his ministrations, and I feel wetness flooding my core once again.
“Jesus Christ, what are you doing to me?” I ask as my hips begin moving on their own accord.
“Testing your theory,” he whispers before licking my lips. My mouth opens, and his tongue slides in, twirling lazily with mine and matching the motion of his finger. “It seems you were wrong, but I think it needs further investigation. We should probably test it in that giant bathtub I’ve been wanting to fuck you in all night.”
So we do. And wouldn’t you know…
He was right.
“Pretty sure that was the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in,” I say the next morning as I zip my last bag. I’ve donned my blonde wig again as we get ready to check out of the hotel, deciding that leaving as Charity and William would be the smart move for appearance’s sake.
“Considering we didn’t get much sleeping done in it, I’d have to say it was one of the most comfortable places I’ve ever fucked you in.”
Cillian grabs my bag and his own before leaning down and placing a sweet kiss on my lips that contradicts his filthy words—and my even filthier thoughts.
“Come on. Let's get out of here and get some breakfast.” He heads out of the bedroom, and I follow, giving the giant bed one more longing look.
It’s still early, not even eight a.m., but we decide to head out of the hotel before the couriers are scheduled to get here to pick up the jewels that are no longer in the hotel safe.
As we ride down to the lobby, I can’t keep the wide grin from my face.
“I still can’t believe we pulled it off,” I whisper, even though we’re the only ones in here. “I mean, I can believe it, but it doesn’t feel real yet.”
“I think this ridiculously heavy bag in my hand is proof that it’s as real as it gets.” Cillian smiles and leans in for a light kiss. For a big, bad mob guy, the fact he’s so tactile comes as a surprise to me, like most things with Cillian.
When the door opens, he takes my hand and walks to the reception desk.
“How was your stay, Mr. Bentley?” the woman at the front desk asks as she takes Cillian’s key card.
“Wonderful. My fiancée especially liked the bathtub.” Cillian sends me a little wink.
“Oh yes, it was absolutely divine.” The orgasm Cillian gave me in it wasn’t half bad either.
“You’re all set, Mr. Bentley. Have a safe trip home.”
“Thank you.”
As we turn toward the doors, I see a frantic woman rush from the hall leading to the room with the safe and approach one of the hotel managers, according to his name badge. She whispers something in his ear, and his face loses all color. When he leans back, he gapes at her in surprise, and together, they hurry down the hallway.
“Hmm, wonder what that could be about,” I say to Cillian as we walk out of the automatic doors into the bright morning sun.
Cillian hands his ticket to the valet and shrugs. “I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”
We share a conspiratorial grin and my hand loops around his arm as I lean my head against his shoulder.
“I’m so damn tired, I think I could sleep for three days,” I say as the valet pulls up to the curb with Cillian’s car.
Cillian opens the door for me, and when the valet offers to help him with his bags, Cillian declines and walks to the trunk, opening it and placing the bags in himself. When he gets in the driver’s side and pulls away from the curb, a grin matching my own stretches across his face.
“There it is.” My fingertip pokes the side of his cheek. He turns his head, snaps his jaw like he’s going to bite my finger, and a loud laugh bursts from me. “I was beginning to think this was just another day in the life for you,” I say as he drives farther away from the hotel.
“There’s nothing ‘just’ about any day with you, trust me on that.”
And there he goes being all sweet again.
“I’m starving and you promised me breakfast. Turn right at the light.” And here I go, not knowing how to handle it and changing the subject.
After giving him directions to a local favorite breakfast spot with no hour-and-a-half wait like the touristy places, we’re sitting on an outdoor patio, coffee in hand.
“So, what are you going to do with the money?” he asks.
“Probably get out of New Orleans. I’ve got a couple ideas. Maybe open up my own little bar somewhere.” Call it superstition from living here for so long, but I’m afraid to talk too much about what I have planned for the money. What’s the saying? Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, or would this be considered a don’t put all your eggs in one basket situation? I’m not sure, but it’s something to do with poultry. “It’s going to take a minute before I can start selling them off anyways. And I probably won’t be doing it in New Orleans. This is sure to be the talk of the town for a hot minute.”
“I know some people up north that can help with it.”
I shrug noncommittally and sip my coffee. It’s not that I’m opposed to seeing Cillian again, and the sex has been out of this world fantastic, but the more I invite him into my life, the more I’m going to depend on him or start having expectations of more than a good time. Our lives are going in opposite directions, and I’m not sure I want that to change. But I’m also not sure I don’t. Scratch that. I’m pretty certain I don’t, and that’s what scares me.
When the waitress drops off our plates, I dig into my food. “I was so nervous last night, I could barely eat. Consider this making up for lost time. Or meals, I should say.”
Cillian looks at me with amusement in his gaze. “I wasn’t saying anything,” he says, taking normal bites of his food as opposed to the way I’m shoveling mine in my face.
“I saw the look,” I reply, pointing my fork at him.
“If there was any look, it was only one of being impressed at the amount of food you can fit in your mouth.”
“Well, I’m starving and exhausted. I want to go back to your suite and strip down so I can crawl between cold sheets and sleep for at least four hours.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”
We finish our plates and head back to his hotel. Cillian undresses, and when he lies down, his arm stretches out, inviting me to curl up into him. I could say I’m too tired to question why that little space between his shoulder and his chest looks like the most inviting place to rest my head, and maybe I am. But I also know there aren’t going to be many more opportunities for me to curl into him and let myself feel…I don’t know…taken care of? Maybe even cherished a little? Instead of thinking too hard on the matter, I allow myself the indulgence. Just before sleep overtakes me, the last thought that runs through my mind is how fucking good this feels.