Chapter 20 #3
"Only if you want to skip it." His fingers trace my jaw. "If you're not up for it, we'll open a bottle and watch a movie. I’m happy just to be with you. But if you're thinking a small amount of blood is enough to ever put me off you, Ace, then you've badly misjudged exactly how much I want you."
I blink at him, my heart doing a nervous little dance. "You're not... grossed out?"
He chuckles. "You've dated some real assholes, haven't you?"
"Shut up and yes," I mutter, though I'm already smiling.
He returns to my mouth, kissing me with a renewed fervor that leaves no doubt about his intentions.
I can feel how much he wants me, his cock hard and demanding against me, and any remaining hesitation I have evaporates in the heat of his touch.
He presses me down into the soft duvet, his hands roaming my body with a familiar, greedy insistence that has me whimpering into his throat.
We tangle together on the mattress, limbs intertwining as he tugs at my clothes like he can't get me close enough. He makes quick work of my shorts, his eyes never leaving mine, and I gasp as he tosses his own clothes aside.
He sinks back over me, his mouth claiming mine with a hard, bruising intensity that steals my next breath.
One hand slides beneath the edge of my cotton underwear, his thumb finding my clit with an accuracy that sends static through my vision.
He pulls back just a fraction, his fingers hooking into my waistband to drag the last of my cotton barriers down my legs.
"You're so fucking sexy," he rasps. "There is not one thing about you I don't want. Do you understand me?"
His palm trails lower, mapping the line of my body. He presses a slow, unhurried kiss into the sensitive curve of my neck, his breath a fevered brand against my skin that makes my whole system hum.
"That feels incredible," I moan, my fingers twisting hard into his hair while he devours me with a greedy focus.
"Say it for me." His finger works my clit in a tight, relentless rhythm that has me trembling. "Tell me exactly how much you want my cock."
"I want it so bad, Cillian," I whisper, a final flicker of the old hesitation flaring up before the raw intimacy of it all. "But you... you don't have to do that part, if you'd rather not?—"
He lifts his head, a slow, wicked grin carving through the shadows. "Sweetheart, I've no fear of getting a little dirty for you."
He kisses his way down my body, over my stomach, lower, and settles between my thighs, his eyes locked on mine the whole way down. Then he reaches up, sliding two fingers into me, and I feel him find the cotton string and hook it. He doesn't pull. Not yet. He just holds my gaze.
"Here's what's going to happen," he says, low and rough. "I'm going to take this out. And then I'm going to put my cock exactly where it was and fuck you until you forget your own name. Alright?"
I gulp, my whole body flushing, and manage a nod.
"Good girl." Only then does he draw it out, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving my face while I pant beneath him, and he tosses it toward the wastebasket.
He kneels up between my legs and wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself, coating his own skin in the mix of my desire and blood before he presses against me, dragging the head of him slow along my pussy, catching my clit on the upstroke until I shudder.
"Cillian," I whisper, my voice a broken thread as the intimacy of it unravels me.
"You're so fucking beautiful, Margot," he rasps, his cock pulsing against me as he prepares to claim me. "There is nothing about you I won't take. Nothing between us tonight. Just you, exactly like this."
Then he drives home with one deep, possessive thrust. I cry out, my body clenching so hard I nearly come right then, dizzy with the force of how good it feels to have him finally in me.
He begins to move, his rhythm hard and unyielding as he hammers into me, and because I'm so sensitive, every stroke feels like a lick of fire, pushing me closer to the edge.
He drives harder and harder, and I have never in my life been so thoroughly, blissfully wrecked. I come apart beneath him with his name on my lips, and the feel of it pulls him right over the edge after me, his groan buried in my neck as he spills into me, both of us shuddering through it together.
Later, after a long, warm shower, we finally sink back into bed. The lamp is off, the house gone quiet around us, and I'm boneless and half-dreaming, drifting in and out as his hand gently massages the small of my back, working out the last of the ache there.
"I’m fairly certain you’ve unraveled me for good," I mumble against the sheets, my voice sounding heavy with a blissful sort of fatigue.
"Then that makes two of us, Ace." He laughs quietly against my temple. "You unravel me in the exact same way."
I smile and he hums something low and tuneless against my hair, an old song I don't recognize, and I let it carry me under. The last thing I'm aware of is the steady rise and fall of his chest against me, his arms closed around me, and how completely safe and adored I feel.