Chapter 32 Carwynn
CARWYNN
Pogue looked like I’d slapped him.
His features were an alarming mix of confusion, irritation, and something feral, all at once.
“For fuck’s sake Pogue, just kiss me!” I needed this over with. “I’m drugged and it’ll break the spell! Just do it. Please.”
A wave of concern shadowed his forehead, smothering all other emotions. I knew he’d normally hide any evidence that he was a living, feeling creature. But right there, I saw a glimpse of it.
Two hands shot up to my face, pulling at the soft skin under my eyes.
Was he inspecting my pupils?
“Who drugged you? When?” he asked sternly, low tone venomous.
“No—not like that,” I scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Breena tricked me and Aine with Liplock potion. Her deranged version of an exciting night. But my senses are spiraling and I’m gonna lose my shit. So, pleaseeeee . . . just do it quick.”
My heart was thundering, hoping with its every beat.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, it anxiously waited.
I could have asked Lochlainn . . . Finley . . . a stranger on the dance floor. Anybody. But I had to ask him. There was no way around it. Every fiber of my being was the addict, and he was my fix. I needed to ask him. I needed him.
His warm hands hadn’t left my cheeks. They effortlessly caressed my skin, trailing down to settle around my neck.
Blue eyes were an ocean I wanted to drown in. The curve of his cheeks, the narrow slant of his nose, that crescent bottom lip—I needed to brand it into my memory. A job my lips would happily do.
I knew he did too as he leaned in and pulled me closer. I could feel the heat of his breath a mere inch away. I tilted my head up, his mouth a hair away, brushing delicately along mine.
I exhaled and he stole my breath, drinking it in. His eyes fluttered, near-closing, on the brink of surrendering that kiss.
Molten flames danced in my stomach, knowing our bodies were about to connect. I was going to melt or spontaneously combust. This was it . . .
His thumb gently swept over my golden choker, tracing the lace that hid my scar, right before it froze.
His chest halted. Something shifting as he went stiff.
Hands fell to his sides, fists now clenching as a muscle in his jaw feathered. Tension began to crackle between us.
Then, in one sudden sweep, he stepped back.
Wait, what?
“This is a mistake,” he said, the words bitter, tasting like regret.
His eyes were haunted and hollow, looking right through me. He turned and strode away. No pause, no look-back. Just the easy gait of tossing trash into a bin and moving on.
My soul mourned, crumbling in on itself at the rejection.
But he— We were about to—
It stung. Everything inside me cringed, long-buried insecurities resurfacing.
What was wrong with me?
A massive body charged through the crowd like a bear, catching me mid-fall into the void. A different pair of hands encompassed my face, demanding yet soft.
“Look at me.” Those two, beautiful green eyes penetrated that dark part of me. “You,” Finley said, fierce and unyielding, “are no mistake!”
Lips crashed into mine.
It wasn’t the soft, sweet kiss I’d imagined he’d give. No, this was determined, claiming. My mouth immediately surrendered, opening to him, letting him have me. His tongue wove into mine with seductive strokes. An arm curled around, yanking me closer, my back arching in response.
The blood inside me was at a roaring boil, right before I felt a snap.
The Liplock spell. It finally broke—like a fever leaving me in a damp, clammy mess.
But how strange. The desire was still there, no longer a torrent, just a steady stream. Had Breena messed up the potion? Perhaps a lingering side-effect?
I could’ve stopped the kiss, but I didn’t want to. Finley’s form was strong and embracing and, in the moment, I felt safe, cared for. A deep part of me wept, knowing I just needed to feel that—even if just for one night.
Finley slowed the kiss, making me realize just how boisterous the room was. I was too afraid to open my eyes, knowing the cheers, hollers, and laughter was directed at us.
Someone dramatically cleared their throat.
We reluctantly released our mouths from each other.
“Don’t think ya need to conceive a babe in the middle of the bar to ensure doom isn’t upon us. I’d say we’re in the clear . . .”
Lochlainn, of course.
He had his arms crossed, looking vexed and perhaps mildly nauseated by us.
With the potion’s fog lifted, only a bit of drunkenness remained. I briefly swiveled my eyes around, catching a glimpse of Pogue at the bar, throwing back some dark liquid. There was a serrated edge to the energy around him. I could almost see black wisps creating an aura.
My abilities were no longer muffled. A part of my Soulsayer unintentionally opened—feeling something sharp and stabbing. I looked toward Pogue and wondered if that’s what his soul felt like. Livid, seething . . .
Wait . . . did I actually just feel his soul? What—? How—?
That’d never happened before.
I spoke to souls, yes—but I’d never read one belonging to someone alive before. Then again, I’d been drugged and drinking questionable liquids. So this could all be some hallucination, right? Right.
I pulled back, loosening Finley’s embrace on me.
“I’m up!” Breena sang.
Aine returned to our area of the bar, nursing a bubbly drink. She smirked, seeing how overjoyed Breena was to be playing this demonic game.
The warmth at my back was comforting as Finley embraced me from behind, allowing me to watch my friend’s turn.
A rush of desire prickled my skin.
Shouldn’t this have gone away?
As if scenting my desire, he leaned in, brushing his lips over my earlobe. “Want to find somewhere a little less . . . crowded?”
There was an inferno behind his sweet, teasing question—a heat I hadn’t expected, but desperately needed to feel.
My head nodded before my brain could catch up. The alcohol wrapped around me like a jacket, as did his arms.
Fingers interlocked with mine, guiding me to a far corner of the bar, far more private. The walls were lined with black, semi-circle leather booths. Dim light from the orb candelabras reflected off the leather. The round tables had long, luxurious, plum tablecloths that cascaded to the floor.
I scooted into a booth, Finley following close behind. His arm instinctually slid behind my head, resting against the seat.
“Ah.” He let out a breath of relief. “I can finally hear myself think.”
“Doubt there’d be much to hear,” I taunted, flirtatiously.
He let out a laugh.
“Wouldn’t that reflect a poor job on your end, professor?
” He countered, placing a hand under my chin.
“Though, I have been a bit distracted in class this year. Hard to pay attention when I’m utterly bewitched by how fucking stunning you are.
” He planted a kiss on my cheek. “And clever.” Then on my neck.
“And funny.” Then a little lower. “And—”
I turned in the seat, my hands fisting his button-down shirt.
I aggressively pulled him in for a kiss, shutting him up.
The scorching flush was growing again. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I knew a part of him wanted to come here to talk about everything privately, but that was the farthest thing from my mind right now.
And with every breath shared, speaking seemed to slip his mind too.
I could feel the smile on his face as I coaxed his mouth to invite me in. It willingly complied.
God, he was so warm, I wanted to nestle myself into him.
I’d felt the potion’s hold on me release, I swear it did, but that volcanic surge flooded through me again, setting my body ablaze.
A devastating ache had my entire core tightening.
The hunger was coiling, causing muscles to spasm in my lower extremities.
I was gonna make Breena pay for this.
Every nibble on my lip and swirl of his tongue had it building . . . and building . . .
Without warning, my body threw a leg over—climbing on top to straddle him in the booth. I kissed him harder, settling my hips lower.
His arms quickly wrapped around my back, welcoming me home into his lap.
Sparks ignited, burning the surface of my skin in every spot where my shameless dress rose up. My pelvis instinctually rocked, feeling the hard throbbing bulge beneath me.
Finley swore, breath heavy.
“Carwynn, if you keep doing that,” he warned, letting out a long breath.
A devious grin crept to my face as I did it again, getting a thrill from the growl that rose deep from his chest.
“Wait. This—this isn’t like ya.” He pulled back slightly, eyes lustful. “Where’s my Carwynn . . . the one that likes to fight me on this? That’ll push me away, knowing damn well I’m just gonna come right back?” He smiled, but concern slowly overtook his features. “How much have ya drank?”
“I’m buzzed, but—” I hesitated, heart still racing.
Shit. He was right. This wasn’t just me. The goddamn potion.
He tilted my face up, brows knitting. “Talk to me. What is it?”
“Liplock,” I groaned, plunking my forehead on his shoulder defeatedly.
I quickly explained the whole, my-roommate-drugged-me-for-fun story.
He barked out a laugh.
“That’s what ya get for living with a Si,” he teased, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “Their spells can be fickle. I’ve had friends who were tortured for days after buying gimmicky potions.”
“Days?” I grumbled even louder, eyes wide.
“Well, with most of them there’s a catch—like the fine-print isn’t exactly as it states. Yours was Liplock, right? The kiss didn’t work since your body is still in full-craving mode. That means ya might need release, to do the trick.”
Another wave of lustful heat.
Can I get a break here, please?
I raised a curious eyebrow.
“Release . . .” I parroted back, still straddling him with my backside hitting the table.
He skimmed his hands down the sides of my arms, moving to my thighs, dragging down.
Holy— My eyes fluttered closed, the sensation electrifying.
A pleased smirk ticked the corner of his lips up.
“Let’s test the theory, shall we?” His voice was silk, laced with sin.
Lifting me up, he spun me around, placing my rear end on the seat. With a provocative grin, he slid his broad body under the table, disappearing.
I could feel him shifting around below. He moved the table forward so my legs were underneath the plum cloth. He bunched the velvety fabric up around my waist like a blanket.
“What the hell are you doing?” I giggled, trying to blindly kick him.
A gentle hand effortlessly caught my foot. My legs slid open a fraction wider. A warm palm slid up my ankle.
Oh.
Oh . . .
My lungs threatened to collapse then and there.
The tablecloth shifted, bobbing between my open legs, his head still hidden underneath.
The short scruff of his beard scratched up my inner thigh in teasing strokes. I could practically feel the biggest smile on his ridiculously hunky face. He briefly adjusted the cloth up, peeking at me from an unholy angle, fiendishly grinning. Then disappeared again.
Hands gripped the back of my knees, scooting me a few inches forward. My body casually leaned back. Each one of my legs hooked up over his shoulders, my thighs like his own personal neck pillows.
My heart was thundering so hard, I could hear its primal rhythm inside my ears, gushing.
“Fin—” I wasn’t sure if it was a question, or a plea.
His only response, a quiet sinful laugh, full of dark promises.
“Don’t worry. If this test fails, I’ve got a few other ideas,” he said, voice gruff.
Finley was going to undo me right then and there.
My heart palpitated in unison to the beat of the song in the distance. People’s drunken laughter echoed as they packed around the bar from afar.
We were nuzzled away in the back, but the booth wasn’t quite hidden enough to ease my nervousness—someone could still see.
Would they do anything? Would they even—
The world dissolved around me. Thoughts combusted as Finley’s soft lips planted kisses up my inner thigh. One. At. A. Time. Strong fingers pulled my underwear aside with practiced ease. And then—
Fuuuucccckkk . . .
His mouth found my most sensitive part. All of my worries melted away.
My skin radiated with rapture. Ecstasy swam through my veins, burrowing in the pit of my abdomen.
Each teasing flick of his tongue, each firm press of his lips—sent a shockwave through my soul. He was going to wring me out.
That devilish tongue worked in deliberate swirls, slowing exactly when he knew I was grazing that edge, only to build the tension back up again.
He knew damn well what he was doing. He was enjoying this beautiful torture.
“Feckin’ perfection, Carwynn,” he whispered the warm prayer against my thigh.
Then—his fingers slid inside.
The sensation escalated, making my legs tremble. I couldn’t control the involuntary arching of my spine as another wave thrust into me. My body was at war with control—and surrendering had never felt sweeter.
One hand curled around my thigh, nails biting in, as he opened me even wider. His mouth pressing into me harder—hungrily, possessively.
My eyes pinched closed. The moan that left my lips was raw, full of aching need. His wicked licks were going to throw me over the cliff to free fall . . . and I wanted them to.
But something touched my face, a phantom of a kiss. The sensation had me opening my eyes a crack to see a small delicate tendril of a shadow, retreating.
I gasped, lungs heaving, still nearing that edge, but I held enough focus to follow that wisp of a shadow. That’s when I saw him—
Pogue. Standing at the edge of the bar closest to us, alone. Watching. Waiting.
He didn’t look disgusted or horrified. No—it was entirely something else. A look of cold, possessive wrath.
The drink in his hand was untouched as white knuckles dared it to shatter. With a free hand, his fingers meticulously tapped on the bar.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
As if waiting—calculating.
Another swipe of Finley’s tongue and plunge of his fingers had me moaning, dragging in a ragged breath. But I didn’t look away, couldn’t look away.
Pogue knew exactly what he was doing—challenging me. And a dark part of me challenged right back, not breaking his stare.
My temperature spiked, my muscles clenched around Finley’s fingers.
I was about to completely explode, right when Pogue grew a slow, malicious grin. Those eyes shackled me in place, unyielding and inescapable.
And then I climaxed, to the view of Pogue’s ruthless, exquisite face. A face that would destroy me—and savor every second of it.
Slowly, he raised his glass at me, a silent victory.