Chapter 40
Cillian
My pulse won’t fucking quiet.
When Electra rerouted us, my guilt staged a judgment scene worthy of a horror movie—severed limbs, ripped nails, yanked teeth. But then, we pulled up in front of a fancy hotel, and my shock transformed into helplessness.
And guilt.
So much fucking guilt.
Though I’m trying to stop overthinking, my mind just won’t shut up. Staying here, with her, feels perverse. Like I’m abusing her benevolence.
Yet I carefully remove my glasses and set them down. And then I strip out of my tee.
The sound of crashing water echoes against my ears, drowning out the sound of my thrashing heart. I don’t think it’s ever beat so hard. At least, not with anything other than hate or adrenaline.
Guilt and eagerness go head to head as I slide her out of her see-through jacket and tank top. Her skin is warm and pebbled, her nipples puckered. The girl’s a wet dream.
I toss the clothes aside, then slant my mouth over hers as I inch my fingertips under her stretchy leather leggings until I’ve got a handhold on the globes of her divine ass. Fucking hell.
I’ve heard the Atlanteans refer to their pit of magical rocks as Gaea. If a divinity truly haunts the bedrock of Atlantis, then I’m going to be dragged into purgatory, whatever I blast—sediments or hearts.
Instead of pulling back, I lean deeper into the kiss, plunging my tongue inside her wet depths. I work her leather leggings and black thong over her ass, then trace its perfect outline, before lengthening my middle finger and tracing her crease.
She sucks in a small breath.
She’s wet. So fucking wet that my already stiff cock jerks with eagerness, trying to plow right through my sweats.
I spread her slickness up and down her folds before poking one finger into her as I did earlier. My girl likes that.
My girl…
Electra isn’t my girl; she’s only my way in.
As my conscience goes to war with my gut, I grip her hip and flip her front to back. Once her spine molds to my torso, and I can hold her whole sex with my hand, a growl of satisfaction surges from me.
Our eyes lock in the mirror above the sink as I rock the heel of my hand against her slick silk while my fingers till her bare pussy.
If I were to be struck down, I’d ask for it to be now, so this—Electra with her skin flushed, her lips parted, and her pupils blown—becomes the last thing I ever see.
“Do you know how fucking sexy you are?” I rasp against the column of skin I’m peppering with gentle kisses.
Her throat clenches as my fingers circle her pouting bud before plowing down her soft, slippery mound.
Her leather pants bunch around her legs, wedging them too close together for my liking, so I yank them down to mid-thigh.
“Can you do something for me, baby?” I don’t wait for her to nod or utter any words, because it isn’t a question; it’s a command. “Can you grab on to your perfect tits and squeeze them for me?”
Her head lolls against my shoulder as she raises her hands and follows my instructions.
“Such a good girl,” I murmur before sucking hard enough on her throat to leave a bruise she’ll carry to fucking Texas.
I hate that she’s going. Hate that she’s putting her trust in that devil she calls a father. While I don’t think he has footage of me entering the deli, I could be wrong, and he simply hasn’t shown it to Electra yet. Or maybe he has, but she didn’t recognize me with my wig.
The little moans that drop from her lips drag me out of my head. One glance into the mirror has my balls rearing up and my length prodding the small of her back, weeping and whining for a deeper connection.
Her breathing grows ragged as I rub her clit.
When I add a phalanx inside her soft heat, she bucks, her muscles and bones sharpening beneath her bronzed skin.
A heartbeat later, she’s unraveling, the oxygen draining from her lungs as if she were an inflatable doll and air was the only thing keeping her shape taut.
I thought the sight of her flushed and at my mercy was sexy, but the sight of her relaxed and satisfied…it keeps setting something off inside my chest.
I swallow to repress the sensation shoving against my ribs and murmur, “How many more orgasms do you think I can wring from your body tonight?”
She hums. “A lot.”
My lips curl against the side of her neck. “That’s right, baby. A whole fucking lot.”
She turns her head, her sooty lashes hanging so low they blunt out the shiny blue and gold. As she kisses me, she snakes her hand between our bodies and closes it around me. I concentrate on her clit while she strokes me through my sweatpants.
When I feel her hand dip inside, I hiss, “I’m not done with you.”
“I’d hope not.” Still, she turns in my arms, forcing my hand off her.
My jaw pops, but my annoyance is rapidly replaced with enthusiasm. One that grows as she guides my pants and briefs off my hips, setting my dick free.
She pumps me, chasing my mouth for a kiss. Our tongues war and our teeth clash. Her fingers feel like a straitjacket as more blood pools beneath my flesh and swells it.
I hoist Electra onto the sink top, yank off her pants, then grab one of her ankles and lift her leg.
Like always, the sight of her pink and engorged almost makes me blow my load right there and then, without penetration.
“I’m going to fucking miss you,” I whisper, my fingers clenching around the slender bone while my eyes sweep from her flushed pussy to her flushed face.
She bites down on her mouth. “Me too.”
“Don’t go,” I find myself begging. And not because I’ve slid back into character, but because I worry about her spending time with my parents’ murderer and returning to me with hate in her heart.
“I’ll be back in no time,” she promises.
“Did you tell your brother?”
“He’s coming with us.”
“Dorian is coming with you?”
“Oh.” She dents her lip. “No. I meant Alexander.”
“Is Dorian on board with your trip?”
“Can we not discuss my family right now?”
My mouth thins.
“I swear I’ll tell him.”
That doesn’t reassure me. But then an idea hits, grows, hardens.
Maybe her leaving isn’t the worst thing. After all, it would give me the time and space to find another way to get Quinn out without worrying my stepbrothers would retaliate by going after Electra.
My erection returns with a vengeance. Even though I ache to sink inside her, one look at her, all rosy and slick, has me hooking her knee over my shoulder and crouching.
I bury my face against her and lick, suck, nip until her thighs tremble and her breathing grows ragged.
She’s sweet and warm, like some syrupy delicacy fresh out of the oven.
Electra rolls one palm over her breast, fingers shaping her nipple into a tighter peak, and sinks the other into my hair. God, I love when she tugs on it.
I dip my finger into her tight channel before trailing it to the next hole and rimming it. “Someday, I’m going to take you there,” I warn her, tapping the bundle of nerves.
“Over my dead body,” she croaks.
I smile up at her. “You’d love it.”
“You’d love it.”
“I would, but only if you did.” I return my finger to her other opening and flatten my tongue against her clit.
Her body jerks, and her hands slam against the marble, knuckles whitening when I add another finger and pump.
“Cillian,” she moans.
I don’t just hate the sound of my false name, I fucking despise it and want, more than anything, to replace it with my real one.
My anger has me swirling my tongue faster. Her lips part around a choked exhale that transforms into a scream when I lash her clit with the tip of my tongue.
As she comes, I hold her heavily-lidded stare and press gentle kisses to her core, rising only once she’s quiet.
My needy dick bobs between us when I loom over her. “Don’t leave for too long.”
She rakes her nails down the side of my ribcage. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Good. Because you’ve made a monster out of me with that perfect cunt, those pretty tits, and those striking eyes.” I run my palms down her thighs as I slant my mouth over hers and kiss her hard.
Her back bows, which pushes her warm, wet center into my waiting erection. A short growl forms in my throat. One that grows in crescendo when I feel her fingers wrap around me and rub my engorged tip against the mess between her legs.
I brace a hand against the mirror behind her to steady myself, then follow her stare down our bodies. When she makes my tip disappear inside her glistening folds, my teeth grit and my balls rise so far up I swear they must strike the base of my spine, because the whole area feels tender and hot.
“Fucking hell, woman,” I groan. “It’s like we haven’t already had sex three times today.”
She looks up, eyes glittering with pride, or something a hell of a lot like it. Without a word, she shifts her hips, taking more of me in.
My abs clench, and I drawl out a, “Fuccckkk.”
I’m still dragging out the single syllable when she releases my shaft, hooks her ankles around my ass, and rakes me in.
My sight flares black, then white. I grab her hip, digging my fingers into the swell of her flesh, because the wall isn’t enough to keep me upright. “Slowly, babe. I want to last.”
“We’ve got all night.” Her walls contract around my length, kicking my still-suspended balls so high, I fucking feel them in my throat now.
I grip her bruisingly hard, nostrils flaring. “Don’t. Move,” I choke out. “Please.”
“I didn’t.”
Between labored breaths, I grit out, “You twitched.”
In a sweet voice, she asks, “Like this?”
Her walls squeeze.
“Electra,” I growl.
“Does it feel good?”
“No. No, it doesn’t feel good. It feels fucking heavenly.” My loss of control and unhinged expression transform her smirk into a devious grin.
I give up any semblance of self-control, set my thumb on her clit, and rub. I force the rest of my body to remain still, even though her sex keeps gripping mine, threatening to set me off. “I’m not coming until you do, so be a good girl and soak my cock.”
Her cheeks redden while the rest of her beautiful body glows like her skin is dusted in glitter instead of perspiration. No…not beautiful. That’s too weak a word to describe Electra Serran. This woman is sexy, surreal, entirely out of my league.
I run my gaze over her tight curves, committing every inch of her to memory before pinning my stare to that pulsing place that has swallowed my cock whole. Her breath suddenly jams, and even though I didn’t think she could sink me in deeper, she does.
I grunt as she screams and milks me. I barely get two lousy, disjointed thrusts in before I fall apart, coming so hard my eyes roll to the back of my skull and my ears fill with actual buzzing.
It’s only her palms on my cheeks that carry me back to Earth, to this hotel room I can’t afford and this mesmerizing goddess I was supposed to seduce without falling for.
I pull out, my guilt cooling off my pleasure.
I’m not falling for her. My dick might have, but not the rest of me.
The rest of me could still walk away and never look back. Never think about her striking stare or all those vulnerable parts of her soul she revealed to me.
I could survive just great without ever again hearing the rasp of her voice, or smelling her sunshine skin, or feeling the searing heat of her touch.
I’d be fucking depressed and lonely, but otherwise just fine.
“Cillian?” I find her head tilted to the side. “Are you okay?”
“Just fine,” I grunt, glaring at the wastebasket that looks wrought of solid gold.
“Is it because you didn’t last long? Because I don’t care about that.”
I snort, my gaze beelining right back to hers. “Appreciate it, but no.”
I scoop her off the countertop and carry her to the bath, one question circling in my head: once I get Quinn to safety, can I come back for Electra?