23. CHAPTER 23
MOON
Cillian didn’t get up. He didn’t sneer. He didn’t grab me or pin me or fight back. My anger shattered. What the fuck did I just do? I dropped to my knees. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and yanked him forward until our chests collided.
My arms locked around his shoulders. I pressed my forehead to the side of his neck and breathed him in.
All this time pushing him away for optics. For control. What did control ever save?
“Don’t ever change,” I whispered against his skin, voice cracking. “Don’t lose that fucking accent. Don’t change your name. Stay the man who kissed me in front of the entire academy like the world could burn. Stay the man who ruins me every time he touches me.”
I inhaled.
“Just… stay mine.”
Cillian’s hands came up fast and frantic. He gripped me with bruising strength and yanked me down.
We crashed to the floor in a messy tangle of limbs and desperation. I landed on top of him, chest to chest, hips pressed tight against his.
His arms locked around my back. One hand shoved under my shirt, hot against bare skin. Fingers dug into my spine, pulling me down harder. His hand buried in my hair and yanked until I gasped, then he forced his tongue into my mouth.
We panted against each other. Hearts slamming. His cock hardened fast beneath me.
“You came back for me.” Kiss. “That’s it for me now. I’m never recovering from you.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, fingers clutching his shirt. My whole body shook. But I didn’t let go. And neither did he.
We ground together on the cold wooden floor until I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m still pissed at you,” I gasped into his open mouth, biting his lower lip.
“Yeah?” Cillian thrust up against me, tongue sliding against mine. “I fucking love it when you’re pissed at me.”
“Shut up.” I dragged him back by the hair and kissed him deeper. “Just—fuck—shut up.”
He laughed against my lips, the sound vibrating through me. “Make me, Moonshine.”
He yanked my hair back and kissed me harder, tongues deep and messy. His hips rolled up in a slow, filthy grind that dragged a broken moan out of my throat.
I couldn’t stop.
I clamped my thighs around him tighter, knees bracketing his hips, rolling down against the hard line of him again and again.
He let me use him. Hands on my thighs, eyes dark and completely surrendered. Every time I ground down he groaned into my mouth.
Then in one powerful motion he sat up, wrapped my legs around his waist, and stood. I gasped into his mouth as he carried me across the room, still kissing. My back hit the wall a second later.
He kissed me harder, tongue fucking my mouth.
“Fuck me against the wall,” I gasped. “I don’t care.”
“That’s my fucking prince.”
He pinned me harder against the wall, hips grinding up with raw need. One hand shoved under my shirt, nails dragging down my back. The other gripped my ass hard as he rolled against me.
“Fuck, Moonshine,” he growled against my throat. “Been dying to bury myself in you again.”
I arched into him, moaning. He bit my throat, sucked hard, then his lips traveled back to mine, kissing me deep and filthy while he kept grinding like he was losing his mind.
I tugged desperately at his shirt. “Off. Now.”
He ripped it over his head. Then his hands were back on me, rough palms skating over my ribs, thumbs pressing hard into my nipples.
Cillian groaned into my mouth, then moved. He lifted me higher and carried me down the short hall, mouth still on mine. He dropped me onto the bed. The mattress dipped hard. He came down on top of me, mouth never leaving mine, hands shoving under my shirt, palms scorching, nails scraping.
Control fucking snapped—legacy be damned.
Clothes came off in a messy rush. My shirt was yanked over my head. Boots kicked off. Pants shoved down and kicked away. In under a minute we were both naked and breathing hard.
I broke the kiss just enough to gasp against his mouth. “Just fuck me already. I can’t keep pretending I don’t need you. Right fucking now. Please, Cillian.”
Cillian made a harsh, broken sound and dropped his forehead to my thigh, breathing hard. Snowmelt dampened his hair. His shoulders trembled. “Fuck… Moonshine. I’m losing my fucking mind.”
His fingers dug in hard enough to leave marks, spreading me wider. His cock dragged against my hole, teasing the tight ring of muscle.
He pulled me back up and kissed me hard, tongue fucking my mouth. His hands were unsteady when he reached for the lube.
He was desperate, but he still took his time.
Slick fingers stretched me open, curling hard while I panted and leaked against my stomach.
“Easy, baby,” he rasped. “Gotta open you up first. Can’t wreck you… not yet.”
I hated how careful he was. I hated how much I needed it.
His free hand stroked me once, twice, teasing.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I shoved him onto his back and straddled him. Cillian let me.
I lined myself up and sank down in one slow, burning slide. The stretch tore a broken sound out of me.
Cillian’s grip on my hips turned bruising. “Fuck… So fucking tight. You’re squeezing me so good.” His voice was wrecked, hips twitching like he was barely holding back from slamming up and forcing every inch inside. “You okay? Talk to me.”
“It hurts,” I rasped, voice cracking. “Don’t stop.”
I kept sinking down until I was flush against his hips, the fullness so intense my vision blurred.
I was breathing hard against his neck.
Cillian’s hands moved over me. One hand slid up to gently grab my face, tilting it so our eyes met. His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. His eyes were dark and vulnerable.
“Fuck… look at you,” he rasped, thumb dragging rough over my wet cheek. “Taking me like you were made for it. That Saint Lucia boy who used to run… Missed this so bad it fucking hurt, Moonshine.”
“Fuck,” I gasped, grinding down harder, chasing that sharp edge of pleasure and pain. “Cillian—”
His hands shook as he gripped my hips hard and flipped us suddenly without pulling out. He pressed me into the mattress and fucked me with three slow, deep strokes. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the room.
Then he pulled out. The sudden emptiness made my hole clench around nothing. He flipped me onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, and drove back in with one brutal thrust.
I moaned loudly into the mattress, back arching hard, the stretch burning deep and perfect.
“Fuck,” Cillian growled. “Look at this greedy hole. Swallowing my cock so deep. This ass is mine, Moonshine. All of you is fucking mine.”
He pounded into me. Hard. Brutal. One hand fisted in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he drove deeper.
“Say it,” he snarled, slamming into me harder. “Tell me whose cock is ruining this tight ass. Tell me who you fucking belong to.”
“You,” I gasped, voice breaking on every thrust. “I’m... Fuck—I’m yours, Cillian.”
He fucked me harder.
“Good boy.”
The praise hit like a gut punch. I tried to hold on. My body betrayed me anyway. The orgasm tore through me as I spilled between us, hole clenching hard around his cock. Cillian snarled my name and followed, slamming deep. I felt every thick pulse as he spilled inside me.
We collapsed. His weight pinned me to the bed. Chest heaving against my back. Cock still buried deep. I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to. My body was loose and trembling.
Cillian pulled out carefully and dropped onto the bed beside me, dragging me with him.
It was almost 5 AM. The fire had burned low. The room was quiet except for our ragged breathing.
I tangled myself in him. Leg thrown over his thigh. Face buried in his neck. Arms wrapped tight around his waist. Cillian held me just as hard. One arm locked around my back. The other hand buried in my hair, pressing my face to his chest.
After everything, maybe it didn’t have to be the end. Public kiss. Videos. Father’s silence. The Patronage Seat already cracking apart. How much worse could it really get?
I still had time. I could talk to Father. Frame it as strategy. Vivienne could spin the optics. Sawyer could distract. Aleksei would back Cillian.
If they saw the real him, the one who butchered Korean at dawn just to meet me halfway, who kept choosing me when it was reckless and suicidal, who would burn his entire legacy for me, maybe they’d understand.
Maybe we’d survive this after all.
The thought felt almost innocent. Stupidly hopeful. Ugh. Who was I kidding? I knew better.
I pressed my lips to his neck. “I wish it could just be us,” I whispered. “No one else. Just us, Cillian.”
Cillian’s hand dragged slow through my hair. He pressed a rough kiss to my temple. “I know,” he muttered, breath hot against my skin. “Me too, Moonshine. Me too.”
My eyes drifted shut. Exhaustion dragged me under.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t run. I stayed.
And we both fell asleep like that. Tangled. Exhausted. Still holding on.