Chapter 28
Cillian
Electra at my mercy is a damn drug.
Every broken cry and wrecked whimper feeds something feral in me. Every pass of her fingers through my hair pulls me deeper under. And the view from between her thighs… Christ. She’s all softness and heat. Even her smell is warm and soft.
Pleasuring women has always felt rewarding, but never more than tonight. Perhaps because Electra is allowing me to contemplate her at her most vulnerable and touch the most sacred part of her body.
I’m well aware pussies and hearts aren’t one and the same. That it’ll take more than my tongue to score an invitation to her fabled homeland, but it feels like a first step in the right direction. In the direction of the mine,
“Cillian,” she moans, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging at the roots in the most addictive way. “I think my clitoris will end up with tongue-burn if you keep going at it.”
I give her flesh one last lazy swirl before climbing to my knees. The sight of her sprawled beneath me, skin pearlescent with sweat, lids heavy with pleasure, has my cock straining in her direction, demanding immediate entry.
Under her watchful gaze, I kick off my sneakers and rid my lower half of clothes. The apples of her cheeks—already pink—deepen at the sight of me stripped bare. It stokes my ego and everything south of it.
I grab my wallet and dig through it for the condom I’ve kept on me since…well, since the gala. Not that I expected Electra would give it up to me then. I’m just the type to plan ahead. I split the wrapping open and toss it aside, then unroll the condom.
“Don’t think you realize what you’ve unleashed,” I say as she scoots nearer the wall, clearing more space for me.
“Your dick?”
I smirk. “I was talking metaphorically, but yeah, babe, my dick’s about to come off its leash big time. If I weren’t wearing rubber, you’d be dripping for days.”
She huffs out a soft snort.
“I’m clean, by the way,” I tell her, climbing onto the bed. “In case you were worried.”
She nods.
“Haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” I wait for her to share some sexual history, but she remains quiet. More than quiet…anxious. “You want this, right? If you don’t, we can—”
“I want this,” she says.
I scrutinize her expression, now that I’m close enough to witness every detail. “Why do you look scared?”
Her lids twitch. “I don’t,” she grits out. “I’m not. Stop overanalyzing everything, Cillian.”
Am I overanalyzing everything?
She reaches between us and clamps her fingers down on my length, giving it a slow pump that instantly empties my brain. I climb on top of her, bracing myself on my forearms. When the head of my cock grazes her moist sex, need clenches my jaw.
I lean down and pry her lips open, kissing her hard enough to leave a bruise. And then I begin to glide in.
She’s so slick that it coats the condom, but she’s also so tight that it’s a fucking struggle—a debilitatingly exquisite one—to push in. I’m barely an inch deep when she rips her mouth off mine to gasp.
I hold still, suddenly worried that her channel isn’t made for human dicks. Which is all kinds of crazy, since I don’t think the Atlanteans are built any differently than we are.
“Electra?”
Is it me, or are her eyes as shiny as her brow?
“Babe, are you all right?”
“Fine,” she grits out. “I’m fine.”
She doesn’t sound fine. She sounds mad. Looks it too.
Her palms flatten against my glutes and try to shift me forward, but I hold myself back. “Either get in or get out, but don’t just stay still.”
I frown. Since I don’t want out, I drive myself all the way in. A sharp, electric rush lights up the base of my spine and makes me groan, but one snatch of her face shuts me up.
Her cheeks puff like she’s holding her breath, and tears creep out of her glistening eyes.
My throat clenches. “Is it because I’m not him?” My tone is barbed and cold.
“Not who?” she croaks.
Confusion knocks aside my anger. “Malachi?”
She snorts. “No.”
“Then why the hell are you crying?”
“I’m not crying.”
“You have tears streaming out of your—”
“Because it fucking stings. Your dick isn’t exactly dainty.”
“Which is a good thing, no?”
“I imagine,” she grumbles. “In the long run.”
I’m hit with another wave of confusion before dread strikes. “This wasn’t your first time, was it?”
She cuts her eyes to the wall and rolls her lips.
I tilt my head, trying to nudge her attention back to me. “Babe…?”
“It was,” she snaps. “But don’t make it into a thing.”
I’m dumbstruck.
She wriggles, I imagine to get away from me, but I’m wedged so deep inside her channel that it drives me deeper.
An electric current surges from where we’re connected and tongues the base of my spine with a debilitating intensity, making my balls tingle and my hips spasm. It’s only my hissed name that propels me back to reality.
I pull out, then roll onto my side, feeling like the jackass of all time for causing her pain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the state of my hymen didn’t concern you.” She glares at the tangled network of pipes overhead.
“I still wish you’d told me you were a virgin.”
“Why does this fucking matter?” she bites out.
Because if she’d had experience, I wouldn’t feel like I’d just bulldozed past a line that shouldn’t have been crossed.
I give my hair a harsh shove as I try to think of something plausible to explain my rattled state, but I can barely explain it to myself. Why do I care that I took her virginity? It’s a piece of flesh, not anything sacred. It’s not like we live in a culture where she’ll expect a marriage proposal.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say.
“For what?”
“For not having been more gentle.”
She tosses me the mother of all side-eyes. “Do I strike you as the type of girl who wants gentle sex?”
I turn on my side and brace my head on my fist. “I just wasn’t expecting…you.”
Her lids spasm. “What exactly were you expecting? A woman who gets railed every night?”
The image she paints sets my teeth on edge. “If that was the type of woman you were, I wouldn’t be with you.”
And not only because I would’ve had to compete for her attention with the whole male gender, but also because… Actually, there’s no because, since Reeve Rafferty would never have had a chance with this woman.
Some of the edge leaves her face. “Have you been with a lot of women?”
I force myself to slip back into Cillian’s skin and shove Reeve away. “Enough to make me realize how goddamn lucky I am right now.”
Her lashes dance again, making me wonder if I said the right thing, or if she’d have preferred to hear my experience level was on par with hers. “I swear, sometimes it feels like you’re playing me.”
A wash of cold hits my skin. “Why—” I swallow. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re too attentive, and too kind, and too…too…too…”
My dread subsides. “Good-looking?” I supply, removing the condom.
Her lips twitch like she’s kicking down their corners to suppress her smile.
I heave out a theatrical sigh. “I know, I know…it’s the one thing I’m not.”
Even though I speak it lightly, like it’s some joke, I’m aware my face isn’t all that great—especially compared to her Atlantean prince. I used to care about my protruding ears, Irish complexion, and poor eyesight, but after all the shit I’ve seen and lived through, I retired caring.
I’m what I am—or I suppose, in this case, what I pretend to be.
I toss the condom aside and reach for her hip. When I smudge her skin red, I freeze.
Her blood…her supernatural blood is on my fingers. I know that as long as it doesn’t penetrate my system, it won’t hurt me, yet I can’t shake the trepidation that it’s about to color-change and flash to signal: liar, liar, liar.
I discreetly wipe my fingers on the sheets. I mustn’t be as subtle as I think because, when I look back at her face, I find her scrutinizing me in a way that makes my lungs feel vacuum-packed. Can she sense my sudden unease?
“Your phone’s vibrating.” Her comment cuts into my thoughts.
Is that why her stare sharpened, or did she notice me wipe my hand? Why am I even this rattled? It’s not the first time I’ve had Atlantean blood on my hands.
“Probably Jeneva with more bachelorette information,” I grumble.
“It’s not messages, Cillian. It’s phone calls. It rang twice already.”
My eyebrows slam low as I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, plant my feet on the ground, and hinge at the waist to retrieve my sweatpants. By the time I’ve collected my phone, it started ringing again. One look at the unknown caller ID and the number of missed calls has my gut clenching.
What if it’s Sullivan? What if something happened to Quinn?
Once the call drops, I check for voicemails, but whoever’s calling isn’t leaving me messages.
“Everything all right?” Electra must’ve drawn herself up, because her breath brushes my shoulder.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Just someone with the wrong number.”
“So it’s not Jeneva with a J?”
I should appreciate her jealousy, but I’m too rattled to even acknowledge it. I glance over my shoulder to find her face leveled with my shoulder, lashes low like they’re trying to fence in her emotions.
“Do you want me to drive you home?” It’s not until the words leave my mouth and her head rears back that I realize how dismissive and cold they sound.
Jesus, I’m such a dick. This girl just lost her virginity to me, and here I am tossing her out. For all her insistence that she doesn’t want sweet and gentle, if she wanted an asshole, she wouldn’t be pining after broody, stand-up Malachi Hadez.
I toss my phone aside on the rumpled sheets, ruing having picked it up in the first place, and reach for her. Though my hands land, she pulls away.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind about spending the night?” Packaging it as her idea doesn’t improve my dismissal or her tanking mood. All it does is make me feel like a greater dick.
“No.” She maneuvers around me and climbs off the bed, forcing my hand off her body.
“Stay,” I whisper, my pulse drilling my veins.