Chapter 31 Taste #2
“And this?” Another finger joined the first. I nodded.
“Uh huh.” The stretch finally helped to satiate that relentless ache as he pulsed his fingers in time with the rhythm of his mouth, curling them upwards to stroke at a deliciously sensitive spot inside of me.
Goddess. Release was building, down my spine, over my skin, more, more, more. I wanted it all…
“Don’t. Stop. Never. Stop,” I said—propriety and control were things long lost to me.
My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more friction, more pressure, just more— And I found release then: a kaleidoscope of colour bursting behind my eyelids, legs trembling.
Ciaran took my directions well. Maybe too well.
He did not stop, stroking and flicking and circling as I barrelled into oblivion, my hips arching off the bed. And when I stilled, he did not.
“Ciaran.” A desperate groan. It was too much.
I was going to combust. But his name on my lips did nothing to discourage him as he sent me over the edge again, as another climax came crashing over me, chasing the first. Wave after wave, pleasure that I had never known before, lightning skittering over my skin.
And only then, when I was almost sobbing, did Ciaran stop.
He looked up at me, his tongue running over his bottom lip, savouring the taste of me, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I have been wanting to make you sound like that since the first time I heard you sing on the roof.”
I whimpered in response, scrambling to my elbows as he raised himself onto the bed beside me.
“Ciaran…” I whispered, reaching toward him. He pressed a kiss to my lips, tasting of him, and now me too. My blood heated inexplicably at the thought of it.
“Shhhh, love… there will be time for more later,” he breathed, “and honestly, you deserve so much more than a threadbare bed in this shitty tavern.” He gestured to the room around us.
I had barely looked at it, I was so distracted when we arrived.
The paint on the walls was faded and peeling.
The wooden headboard on the bed was chipped, the blankets and pillows rough and lumpy.
The single window was covered with a thin tattered curtain. There wasn’t even a bathroom. And yet…
“I don’t care where we are. All I want is you.” I tried to push against his chest, but he was immovable as granite and smirking at me with smug satisfaction. It was as if he had been planning this for a long, long time. Maybe since the day we met. The inevitable path we’d been on from the start.
“Sleep, Seraphina. I promise you can have your turn with me when we are safely Beneath Lutesse.” He hovered over me, kissed my eyelids, pulling the thin blankets up around us.
He tucked me into his side, curling around my back.
I sighed. Even though we were currently fugitives, running from a dangerous and deadly group of people who wanted to kill us, even though I had just dug a bullet out of Ciaran’s chest less than an hour ago, I had never felt safer.
And exhaustion took its toll, the stress of the masquerade and our wild chase through the streets of Lutesse catching up with me.
Sleep had been elusive since leaving my old life behind.
But here, tucked in beside Ciaran, brain and body addled by untold pleasure, it came swiftly.
I drifted off peacefully, despite the situation we’d found ourselves in.
I must have slept only a few hours, because it was still dark when I awoke.
I found myself in a strange place, naked, curled up next to Ciaran.
I knew I should have felt all kinds of things after the complete and unmitigated disaster that was the masquerade and everything that had happened after, but I couldn’t help but smile.
I was naked and curled up next to Ciaran. Finally.
He had wrung pleasure from me that was so all-consuming, so exquisite, that I had never felt anything like it. And he had stopped me. Stopped me from reciprocating. And that just wasn’t fair.
I shifted to see him better in the dark room, his features softened by sleep.
He looked younger, more innocent. Carefree.
One muscled arm was raised over his head, tucked behind the pillow on the threadbare bed.
His chest rose and fell gently. A sprinkling of dark hair curled on that golden chest and in the indents under his arms. And he smelled…
intoxicating. Like salt and sweat and rosemary, and just him.
I squeezed my legs together beneath the thin blankets.
That quickly I was slick and ready for him again.
I wanted that body pressed up against every inch of me—wanted it inside me.
I could inhale that intoxicating scent of him every day for the rest of my life.
It felt so, so right. It had never felt this way with Seff.
Never with anyone. Like it was always supposed to be Ciaran.
He had played my body like an instrument—one he knew intimately—and I had responded with such sweet music…
As if he could somehow hear my delightfully sinful thoughts, Ciaran’s eyes blinked open. He sat up. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Sorry. Everything is fine, I just woke up.” I shrugged, reassuring him that there was nothing amiss—that we were still safely hidden away.
Ciaran slid back down, turning on his side to face me, rubbing his eyes to clear the sleep from them. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He groaned, stretching. “Are you alright?” Concern flickered across his dark features.
I smiled; I couldn’t help it. “I have never been better.”
“We just barely escaped from that masquerade with our lives, and we are trapped in this disgusting tavern. But you have never been better?” Ciaran’s brow lifted, and a playful smile graced his serious face.
I shrugged. “Yes.”
“Seraphina…” Ciaran reached out and tucked a stray curl behind my ear.
“If we go down this path, I swear I’m not going to be able to stop.
What I feel for you it’s…” He inhaled sharply.
“It’s more than want. It’s a craving. You’re in my marrow, Seraphina.
So please. Put me out of my misery now. If it’s too much. ”
It was too much. His vulnerability had always been more than I could handle. But perhaps, in the protective bubble of this dank and dingy inn, I could voice how I was really feeling for once.
“I already told you, Ciaran. I want you. I’m not backing out now. This thing between us? It is real. It is undeniable.”
Ciaran pressed his lips together—did he remember the conversation we’d had over whiskey? After he had healed my ankle? He told me then he wanted something real. Something undeniable. I felt that here with him. And after everything we’d been through? There was no point dancing around it anymore.
He placed his hand on my waist and hauled me closer to him, kissing me. Slowly. Deeply. Tantalizing and thorough. I trailed a hand up his chest, feeling every inch of muscle along the way, brushing through the softly curling hairs, coming to rest on the back of his neck.
I reached my other hand between us. Ciaran was still clothed from the waist down, but I could feel that he wanted me too, and just as badly as I wanted him. I palmed his erection, desperate to feel him, to touch him—to taste him as he had me.
“Seraphina…” Ciaran growled.
“Please,” I breathed out, turning his own words back on him, “let me taste you, Ciaran.” I don’t know where this audacity was coming from.
That first kiss had cracked every single wall I had ever put up and now the floodgates were open.
I had never felt so emboldened. I had also never done this before.
Seff would never have allowed it. Others before him were too quick, too casual, to ever veer into such intimate territory.
But maybe I was that kind of woman. The kind who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to give it or receive it.
Ciaran groaned, a strangled sound garbled out as my words hit him full force. “Fuck. Yes.” He leaned his head back with a fist at his forehead, teeth gritted, as if he were giving in to this against his better judgement. I didn’t care.
I moved on him, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, inhaling the scent of him as I did.
I sighed as it filled my lungs, my soul.
Goddess. I wanted him to fill me. But not yet.
Not yet. I pushed him onto his back and trailed kisses down his chest, lower.
His stomach muscles contracted as I brushed over them, lightly, with my lips, my tongue, reaching his navel and the more gently curling hair below it.
He let out a slow breath. I looked up at him as I carefully unbuttoned his pants.
He was undone. Wild. His hair mussed, his eyes dark, pupils blown to the point that there was no distinguishing them from his dark irises. I seared that image into my brain.
“Fuck, Seraphina…” He groaned again, as if this were truly torturous. I shimmied the pants down below his waist, and finally there was just his undergarments. I palmed him and he hissed as I pulled those down, and his cock sprang free.
I had to squeeze my legs together. I had a task.
There would be time for all that later. But Holy Goddess.
I wanted to writhe against that length—to feel the stretch of him as he filled me.
He was beautiful, in a way I didn’t have words for.
And I was painfully aware that I didn’t exactly know what I was doing here.
“I, uh…” I stuttered, tearing my eyes away from the impressive length of him to look back into Ciaran’s eyes. “I haven’t done this before either,” I admitted, somewhat sheepishly. His eyes widened, his features again inscrutable.
I lowered my head, my breath whispering over him. “Is this okay?” I asked him the same tentative question he’d asked me.
“Seraphina, please,” he gritted out, his voice strangled and unhinged in a way I hadn’t heard it before.
“Tell me if I’m doing something wrong. Tell me how you like it,” I pleaded. And he nodded, just trying to hold it together.
So I bent to him, tentatively licking at the broad head of his cock, circling his crown with my tongue.
He tasted like salt, not unpleasantly. A moan escaped from somewhere above me, but I was too focused on the task at hand.
I wasn’t sure if I was doing this right at all.
I didn’t hear any protests, so I continued licking.
I sealed my lips over him, taking more and more into my mouth.
I wanted it all. I was going to catch fire from how much I wanted this.
I went slowly, as he had done with me, applying more pressure, teasing and tasting, seeing what elicited more reaction from Ciaran.
He moaned my name as I hollowed my cheeks and gave a hard suck.
His hips bucked, and I moved faster in turn, taking him deeper.
His cock hit the back of my throat. I had taken him so deep I had to pause—had to catch my breath.
I whirled my tongue over him, plunging even further down.
I found there was pleasure in this for me too.
The taste of him. The sounds of him coming undone.
I had done that. There was a primal kind of power in it. I relished it.
Above me Ciaran groaned. A mixture of curses and words of praise fell from his lips.
“That’s it. Goddess, you’re so good. Seraphina. Fuck.”
I felt him in my throat as he bottomed out.
My body protested at first, but I was able to relax around him, though tears streamed from the corners of my eyes.
As if it was automatic, my hand roamed down my own body, finding a slick mess between my legs.
I was absolutely loving this as much as Ciaran did.
“Fuck. Seraphina. Fuck.” He tensed. “I’m going to—” He came, spilling himself into my throat. I relished that, too.