Chapter 18
I’m going to combust into stardust.
I lick my suddenly dry lips, kicking off my boots one by one.
Slowly, I climb onto the table, and I don’t stop there—I crawl across the polished surface towards Kieran, never breaking eye contact, behaving like the good girl he wants me to be.
The good girl he’s about to unleash.
Kieran curses under his breath.
“Can’t believe you kicked everyone out for this,” I whisper. “You couldn’t even get past the life-and-death topic they’re trying to raise.”
“Trust me,” he says, low and dangerous, hands reaching for my hips—then he grips, hard, and drags me closer. “Those who want to kill me can wait in line. I’m going to die first if I don’t touch you. Now.”
“So needy,” I murmur, throwing my legs on his waist. “You just touched me a few hours ago …”
“Not enough.” He groans, staring at me like he can’t decide whether to worship me, or ruin me—or both. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane.”
I muse. “All I did was just sit there.”
“Exactly.”
His voice breaks on the word, hoarse and undone. His eyes flash with something dangerous. And then his mouth crashes into mine. There’s nothing soft about it.
This kiss is a claiming. A punishment. A goddamn prayer.
A fucking redemption.
I gasp into it, fingers threading through his dark hair as his hand roams—rough and reverent, like he’s trying to memorise every inch of me with touch alone.
Kieran parts my legs wider with his knee, dragging me to the very edge of the table, my dress bunched around my waist.
“I can still taste you,” he growls against my lips. “Still feel you pulsing around my fingers.”
I moan, shameless, desperate.
“You gonna be good for me now?” Kieran asks, one hand slipping lower, trailing over my inner thigh. “Or are you going to keep teasing me until I break you on this table?”
“Can I be a good girl,” I whisper, sweet as the darkest sin, breath absolutely stolen, “and you break me as a reward?”
That earns me a low, wicked groan.
The storm-lit eyes let me know how absolutely, deliciously torturous this next moment is going to be as Kieran drops to his knees.
Right there, in front of the chair that’s more or less his throne.
In the fucking Council Hall.
Kieran’s hands wrap around my thighs like shackles, and he yanks me closer until I’m right at the edge, teetering on the precipice of madness.
He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other.
Fingers trail down, and down—one slipping inside.
I gasp, a quiet moan slipping from my lips.
Kieran purrs, “You’re so fucking wet.”
And then he devours.
His mouth finds me with a hunger that makes my spine arch off the table. His tongue moves like he’s trying to unmake me. My head spins. Shameful noises tear from my throat.
Every flick, every circle, every press—he’s spelling something in a language only my body can understand. I cry out. One hand claws at the table, the other tangles in his hair as my hips buck shamelessly.
“Fuck—Kieran—”
He hums against me, then slips another finger inside. Then a third—exactly like he did a few hours ago—but this time rougher, harder.
They move in a cruel rhythm, curling just right, thrusting deeper—driving me higher until I’m seeing stars, floating amongst them.
The table creaks beneath us.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I come undone with a scream that echoes off the ceiling.
And Kieran is nowhere near being done.
He never has enough, never wants to stop. He licks me through the aftershocks, mouth relentless, finger dragging me towards a second climax so fast I don’t even have time to beg.
My voice breaks.
My body trembles.
And I shatter all over again, this time gasping his name like a curse and a prayer.
When he finally pulls away, his mouth is wet with me, eyes raging like fire.
He stands. Leans over me. His smile a promise that he already plans to do it again.
“So beautiful,” Kieran murmurs, brushing a thumb across my thigh.
I’m breathless, seeing stars.
My head can’t process how many orgasms I’ve had in one morning.
Kieran is exactly how I thought he’d be, and then some.
“Come here,” I whisper, pulling him by the collar. He obeys instantly. Our mouths crash together again. His hardness presses between my thighs—still clothed, still straining.
Gods.
I’m the one being touched, tasted. Worshipped like a goddess.
But it’s not enough.
It’s not enough.
I want him undone.
I want to make a mess of him like he did me.
I shift, pushing Kieran back towards his not-throne chair. He lands on it with a grunt, laughing low and dark as I climb onto his lap.
“Tell me the rule is off now,” he says, voice husky, hands gripping my thighs. “Please?”
I laugh in my throat. “Did you really think saying please would make me change my mind?”
“Can’t blame a male for trying.”
I shake my head, then I kiss him—hard—biting his lips until he groans into my mouth. My hands trail down, unbuttoning his shirt one by one, slow and cruel.
“You’re so fucking smug,” I whisper. “Thought you could ruin me and get away with it?”
He smirks. “I was actually counting on you ruining me, too.”
In that case … I drag my lips down his neck, sucking gently at the soft skin near his collarbone, marking him as mine, like he did to me before breakfast. Then I go lower, over his chest—each kiss harder than the last.
And I don’t stop there. I drop to my knees.
I reach his stomach—then the waistband of his trousers.
Kieran’s breath catches.
I don’t break eye contact. Kieran lifts his hips in anticipation, but I take my sweet time, fingers brushing the edge—tracing, teasing.
“Maybe I should leave you like this,” I murmur. “Hard. Desperate.”
“You already did earlier.” His laugh is breathless now. “Do it again and I’ll bend you over the goddamn table.”
“Hm,” I muse. “You say like that’s supposed to be a punishment.”
Then, I lean in. My breath brushes over the hard line of him through his trousers, and Kieran hisses a sharp, ragged sound, like he’s losing composure one heartbeat at a time, even though I haven’t done anything yet.
Gods, I love seeing him like this.
I drag my tongue slowly over the fabric, never breaking eye contact. His hands clench the arms of the chairs like he might break if he doesn’t.
“Fuck, Cass—”
I undo the button. Unzip. Tug his trousers down just enough. Kieran groans as I finally lay eyes on him.
Big. Hard. Beautiful.
I take him in my hand, wrapping my fingers around the base, and then I stroke—once, twice, slow enough to drive him insane.
Kieran’s breath punches out of him. His head tips back for a second, then snaps forward again, watching me like I’m both his salvation and his absolute undoing.
I lick my lips, then kiss the tip—a soft brush.
His whole body jerks.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You’re such a tease.”
I smile, satisfied with how unravelled I’ve made the King of the Fallen, and then I take him into my mouth.
Slowly. Deeply.
Kieran chokes on a moan, hips twitching, hands fisting the arms of the chair like he’s using every last ounce of strength he has not to thrust into my mouth, or pull me up and bend me over the table. Every lick, every stroke of my tongue has him falling apart, muttering curses under his breath.
“I knew you and that goddamn mouth were going to ruin me,” he groans.
I pull back just enough to say, “I take that as a compliment.”
Then, I suck him deeper. His hips buck and he swears, voice strangled.
I bob my head, faster now, hand working in tandem, and it’s not long before I feel him tremble—so close, so wrecked, a mess of want and wildness.
“Cassandra—fuck—I swear to the stars, if you stop—”
I absolutely do not stop.
And Kieran shatters. With a growl so guttural it echoes off the walls, he comes, hips stuttering, fingers digging into the arms of the chair like he’s been struck by lightning.
I swallow every last drop—and that has Kieran growl like a wounded animal.
And when I pull back, I wipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb—then lick it clean. Kieran’s chest heaves. His eyes are still glazed, wild.
“Beautiful.” I copy his own word, settling back into his lap, smug as sin.
With the underwear that I left in bed and his trousers undone, our bare skin brushes. I deliberately rub myself against him, wet, and full of need that we both can’t seem to get enough of. I grin as I feel him harden again.
One move, and he could be inside me.
“Mother of the stars,” he rasps, grabbing my hips in place—tight—like he’s this close to thrusting into me. “Yesterday it was a kiss. Today it’s this. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds.”
“Tomorrow?” I lick my lips. “It’s not even noon yet.”
Kieran laughs, breathless and broken, then he pulls me into another longing kiss—so deep I purr into it. By the time we break apart, he’s so damn hard beneath me I’m tempted to just sink down and ride him until we both forget our own names.
But no.
Not yet.
“Shit, I might actually be in love with you,” Kieran bursts out.
I throw my head back laughing, even though my heart is about to explode. “Tell me again when you’re not drunk on lust and I might believe you.”
“I’ll fucking tattoo it on your skin.”
Then he bites my neck, again and again, leaving red marks like he’s branding me.
And I love them—every single one of them.
But …
“You’re limiting my dress options for tonight,” I mutter, breathless. My face flushed.
“Doesn’t matter.” He laughs into my skin. “Any one you pick will be on the floor by the end of the night, anyway.”
Oh Gods.
How much of Kieran can I even take in a single day?
I guess we’re about to find out.