14. Cillian
fourteen
Cillian
One Week Later
I’m discombobulated.
Stunned. Conflicted. Also, tempted…
Leaning back in my chair in my office at the jobsite, I stare at the ceiling. The low hum of the portable air conditioner fills the silence as I collect my thoughts.
Since Ivy blurted out the idea of getting married last week on the rooftop of this very building—moments after we first declared our love for one another—I’m more confused than ever.
I almost took her up on it. Summer’s going to be over before we know it and neither of us are ready for the inevitable changes ahead. Our entire relationship has been impulsive, why not whisk off to Vegas?
Not wanting to quash her passion and impulsivity by telling her no, I spoke my truth, though I tried to handle the delivery with care. We have something special. I see us having a future. I also explained I didn’t want her to make a hasty, life-altering decision she might regret later.
She was disappointed, but we agreed to revisit in a week—tonight.
I know we’re not ready to take this step. We have too many obstacles and realities to contend with. She’s leaving for Stanford in three weeks. Her parents have no idea I exist. My family doesn’t know much about her either, for that matter. Ivy and I have been living in our own bubble since we met, but our lives are not fully melded yet.
Until then, why add the pressure of marriage?
My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a text from Ivy.
Ivy: Six more hours. Can’t wait to show you how much I’ve missed you...
Attached is a close-up of her sucking on her index finger .
My dick digs what I see and fills to capacity. Jesus, the effect this woman has on me. It’s unbelievable.
How am I going to get by without her? I can’t imagine not waking up with her wrapped in my arms. For nearly two months, the first thing I do every morning and the last thing I do at night is make love to her. She’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
But, am I that person for her?
My chest tightens. The thought of her discovering who she is, on her own terms, fills me with a mix of pride and fear. Pride for the strong, determined woman she’s becoming. Fear she might outgrow me and the love we share.
Fuck it. She’s mine now. I’ll make the most of every moment we have left. I type my reply
Me : You’ve made my day a whole lot harder...
The bottom line is, I don’t want to break up. I’m also not going to hinder her from reaching her full potential before we make such a big commitment.
For the next few hours, my concentration is needed on the business. Specifically, my upcoming meeting with Peter Vander, a renowned green architect with whom I’ve worked extensively over the past few years. His firm was chosen as the architect for the project I’m up for, which means my chances of getting this job went through the roof.
Peter’s connected to me in other ways. He’s married to Jordan Deveraux, whose brother, Jace, is in LTZ with my brother Connor. We met a couple years ago when we were both recruited by LTZ’s guitarist, Zane Rocks and his wife Fiona Reynolds, to help design and build their business, The Mission and its sister restaurant, Gus.
Since then, I’ve handled many of Peter’s builds in Seattle. I’m extraordinarily familiar with his aesthetic and commitment to the environment, making us a perfect team.
Glancing at the clock, I realize if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. It’s only a ten-minute walk, but I’ll definitely need a coffee pick-me-up. Fifteen minutes later, I step into the airy, modern lobby of Peter’s architecture firm with a Venti sweet cream Cold Brew. The receptionist greets me with a professional smile and guides me to the spacious conference room. While I wait, I admire the minimalist, yet stunning decor, which is not only VA’s signature, but indicates their commitment to sustainable design.
Peter pushes through the glass door and holds out his hand. “Cillian, always a pleasure.”
“Great to see you, Peter.” We shake and I settle back down into the chair across from him .
The table between us is strewn with blueprints and eco-friendly material samples. Peter wastes no time, his enthusiasm evident. “This new project, Cillian—it’s more than a structure. It’s a vision. Imagine a shipping facility serving not only as a benchmark in environmental design, but this one will truly revolutionize operations.”
“A project like this feels like my next logical step. I’m looking forward to diving into something this complicated, I hope I’m selected.” I trace my thumb over a piece of roofing material.
With a conspiratorial grin, Peter leans in slightly. “I’d love to give you more details about the client, but you know how these NDAs can be. It’ll be quite the reveal, you might be surprised.”
“Understood.” I chuckle. “I feel proud of what I submitted. I wanted to pick your brain about next steps, without pushing your boundaries, of course.”
Our discussion shifts to the technical—solar panels doubling as architectural features. Innovative water recycling systems, and green roofs teeming with native plants. We spend the next two hours going over details. The project is ambitious, a complex puzzle fitting perfectly with our mutual goals.
“Well.” Peter’s eyes burn through me. “If we nail this, we’re looking at potentially revolutionizing how shipping hubs are built worldwide. I have an inkling our work together will open up opportunities we never dreamed possible. Are you on board?”
“Definitely.” I nod.
As he walks me out the door, Peter nods, his smile broad. “Good luck in your presentation. Let’s make this happen.”
I start back to the jobsite but realize it’s past four. Considering the conversation I need to have with Ivy tonight, maybe it would be better to go home early. She should be back from her painting class by now. Spinning on my heel, I walk seven blocks to my place.
By the time I step into my loft, I’m feeling lighter than I have all day. The meeting with Peter went better than expected and the thrill of a potential breakthrough project pulses through me. At the very least, I’ll have something to concentrate on while Ivy’s away at school.
“Ivy?” There’s no answer. The loft is quiet, the late-afternoon light spills through the windows casting long, warm shadows across the hardwood floors. A smile tugs at my lips as I head toward the bedroom, anticipation building with each step.
The door is ajar. I push it open and I almost need a moment to compose myself. There, before the full-length mirror, stands my girl. Ivy hasn’t heard me come in, she’s too absorbed in adjusting the delicate straps of the black lingerie she’s wearing. I’m rooted to where I’m standing, struck by her beauty and the intimate vulnerability of the scene.
“Ivy,” I say, my voice a low rumble. I’m already unbuckling my jeans as I approach.
She whirls around and both surprise and delight flash across her face. One arm instinctively covers her breasts, the other her pussy. “Cillian! You’re early.”
“Let me see.” I kick off my jeans and boots and fling my T-shirt to the ground. “Don’t hide your beautiful body from me.”
Ivy drops her hands and standing before me is my every fantasy come true. She’s wearing some sort of lacy contraption. The top is like an open-cup bra with thin black straps framing her tits, just enough to hold floral-shaped appliqués in place over her nipples. The rest is essentially lacy fabric that crisscrosses over her body in a geometric pattern and is fastened with miniature black ribbons.
Pumping my engorged cock, I close the distance between us in a few strides, my eyes not leaving hers. “I couldn’t wait to get back to you, and this is what I find?” My hands span her waist, my fingers maneuver their way under the soft fabric and caress her even softer skin. “You’re stunning. Is this for me? ”
“Of course. Welcome to your private show.” Her arms loop around my neck, pulling me closer. Her turquoise eyes sparkle with mischief.
Sliding my palms down her hips and around her ass, I effortlessly lift her off the ground. Her legs wrap around my torso and I walk us to the mirror. Reaching between us, Ivy guides me into her slick heat and we both watch her pussy stretch around my cock.
I capture her lips with mine and the rest of the world fades into insignificance.
A potential Vegas wedding. My meeting with Peter Vander. Her leaving for school. None of this is important when we lose ourselves in each other.
An impromptu fuck, in our own sanctuary, allows the complexities of our lives outside these walls to be suspended in time.
Challenges are momentarily paused.
Discussions are on hold.
Nothing matters but this moment.