Chapter 22 #2
I brace myself as he picks up speed, holding me in place as he pounds into me. It’s brutal and harsh, and I love it. I can’t breathe, and it only drives me higher, especially as Kieran groans behind me.
“You are so perfect like this, Eden. So fucking perfect for me.” He moves faster, his fingers digging into my skin so hard it’s painful, and I’m already on the verge of coming.
“I’ve been so ready to sink into you all night.
I love watching you get turned on because of violence.
I love that you are fucking twisted like me. ”
My fingers scramble against the wall, my lungs burning. I can’t say anything, can’t move, but with the noises that he still draws out of me, he has to know I’m getting close.
“Squeeze me a little harder, wife.” His hand slides between my legs, pinching my clit. I jolt, and he groans as my pussy convulses. “Just like that.”
Black teases the edge of my vision, and his hips start to stutter. Another flare of pain erupts between my legs, and Kieran groans louder. “ Yes . Again. I want you to milk my fucking cock.”
Just as my eyes start to roll back, his hand eases enough for me to draw in oxygen.
The little trickle of air is not enough to stop the burning in my lungs, but it sends a new wave of pleasure through my body.
Kieran’s other hand moves from my clit to my breast, pinching my nipple while giving me another dose of oxygen.
It’s enough to send me spiraling as he bottoms out again.
“So good,” he grunts as he pushes all the way into me. “You’re doing so good.”
Another wave of pleasure rolls through me at that, an aftershock shuddering up my spine. Kieran tugs me back to rest my head on his shoulder as he gives a few shallow thrusts, riding out his own orgasm.
His lips brush my temple. “I will never get tired of fucking you,” he says softly.
“That was so worth the wait,” I pant, my body feeling boneless.
He chuckles, pressing another kiss to my skin, and slowly pulls out.
One arm helps me stay upright while he fixes his pants.
Then, he’s lifting me into his arms, and I curl into his chest. I’m exhausted after the night, and I’ll need the rest before Kieran finds his second wind. He’s insatiable—and I’m no better.
In his room, he lays me out on the bed. I sink into the soft mattress, arm slung over my face. When I feel him unlacing my boots, I peek down at him, fighting the smile that threatens to overtake my lips.
There’s something about seeing Kieran kneeling at the edge of his bed and gently pulling my shoes off that does something dangerous to my chest. He fucks me until I almost pass out and then he’ll do things like this.
How could I not want to be married to him?
He stands, tugging at the bottom of my shirt. “Do you want this off?” I nod and sit up, but his warm hands are already there, pulling the tight top off. My bra is gone, too, and he tips my chin up to look at him. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he disappears into the bathroom, dropping back against my pillow. The thought gives me pause because I’m not sure when I started thinking of it as mine. This is Kieran’s room, even if I’ve been spending more nights here than not. Even if I might have shared it once.
My thoughts are interrupted as he comes back with a wet cloth to clean me up. Wordlessly, he opens my legs and swipes the warm cloth against me, wiping his cum away. Then, he pulls the blankets up around me before walking back into the bathroom.
Now that my lust has cleared a bit, I can think more clearly about the night.
Like how Kieran brought us to where we first met, somewhere that I could feel was clearly a part of myself.
I’m not sure he knows how much it meant to go there tonight, especially after seeing those pictures, but it’s only reinforcing this image I have of him.
And it’s not the scary mafia leader that everyone in the city hates.
It’s the man I chose to marry. The one who can’t tell me he cares but will leave me breakfast in the morning. The one who loves to fight me but also leaves kisses on my temple. The one who never gave up on me, even when I was breaking the heart he says he doesn’t have.
The one that is slowly winning me over.
Kieran is naked when he re-emerges from the adjoining room, and I take in the view.
He’s gorgeous, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.
Not the green eyes that steal my breath when I wake or the brown waves I want to run my fingers through or the scars I trace late at night after we have sex.
Sliding into bed beside me, Kieran drags me into his chest, and I go willingly. His other hand finds my thigh, pulling my leg across his body so he can run his palm over my skin.
“Did you enjoy the cages?” His voice is rough, and I wonder if it’s because he’s trying to cover any emotion I might hear in the words. Either way, it makes his accent thicker, which I find insanely attractive.
Shifting so that I’m fully on top of him, I prop my hands on his chest and set my chin on top of them. Kieran’s fall to my hips, thumbs swiping over the skin. He’s always touching me, and I love that connection.
“I did.” My lips twitch. “Even if I didn’t get to do the killing.”
That earns me a soft smile. “Feeling violent tonight, mo chuisle ?”
“Maybe.” My head cocks as I study him. He looks so relaxed right now that I decide to ask him something I’ve been wondering. “What does that mean?” He raises his scarred brow even though I’m certain he knows what I’m asking. “ Mo chuisle . What does it mean?”
Kieran’s jaw flexes, and he looks away. Lifting up, I slide one hand along his jaw and turn his face back to me. His brows are pinched, and his green eyes are dark, emotion clouding them.
I know that he still struggles with the things we’ve lost. And that we still aren’t where we once were.
I’ve noticed he doesn’t tell me he loves me, and he hasn’t kissed me.
It’s like he’s still protecting little pieces of the marriage he once had—or maybe there are some things he knows will break him.
Like kissing me when I won’t share his bed permanently or not hearing me say I love him back. Both hurt me when I think about it, so I can’t imagine how it must feel to him.
And I’m worried this question is just a reminder that even though I’ve given him my body again, he still doesn’t have all of me. A reminder that he doesn’t want to face.
“Kieran?” I smooth a hand over the crinkle in his forehead. “I didn’t mean?—“
He shakes his head, capturing my hand and kissing the palm. “I never told you. It’s okay that you asked.”
Swallowing hard, I nod. Despite everything, this moment feels more vulnerable than any others we’ve had.
“I don’t know the direct translation.” His lips curl into a sad smile. “My mother would be so disappointed in that.” He shakes his head, green eyes lifting. “But roughly, it means ‘my love.’”
My heart aches at the emotion in Kieran’s gaze. I think back to all the times he’s called me that—and most of the time, it was during sex. When his restraint was gone and he was completely raw.
In the moments when he couldn’t hide everything anymore…he called me his love.
I knew he often called me wife, but for a while, it felt more like an insult. This, though, threatens to break something in me.
I don’t know how to respond. We’ve rarely talked like this, and I’m terrible at sharing how I feel. Not that Kieran is looking for a grand declaration right now, but I want him to know that I hear how important this is without him saying it.
So, instead of butchering my words, I brush my thumb along his scruff, shifting closer. I haven’t pushed kissing him because it has felt too intimate. But right now, I think it’s what we both need.
His eyes track me as I lean in, flicking between mine and my mouth. He’s barely breathing beneath me, his hands moving in a steady rhythm that seems to be grounding him. But he makes no effort to stop me as I tilt my head, our noses brushing.
My heart squeezing, I close the last of the space between us, our lips meeting for the first time, and I sink into his kiss. It’s not brutal or filled with tension like I would have expected. It’s all-consuming, claiming, and so fucking good that I need more.
One of his hands slides up my back while mine get lost in his thick waves. My lips part and his tongue sweeps in, the kiss turning heated but no less intense.
Soon, I’m grinding back on him as he grows hard, our mouths never breaking apart. Not even when I sink down on him. He keeps my lips on his, swallowing my moans and depriving me of oxygen in a new way.
And when I’m riding him, stealing kisses between groans, and he calls me mo chuisle , I finally understand what he’s been saying all along. I might not understand it all, but it’s like picking up a forgotten language. It’s all starting to make sense to me again.
Kieran is.