Chapter 3 The Storm #2
"Like you'd burn the world down to have me."
His other hand came up. Both hands on her face. Holding her. His eyes were dark. Hungry. The controlled facade she'd seen since the wedding was gone. Cracked open. Underneath was something raw and desperate.
"I'd burn it twice," he said.
He kissed her.
Not like the terrace. Not gentle. Not a question. This was an answer. His mouth claimed hers with a hunger that made her knees buckle. His tongue swept past her lips, and she tasted him. Whiskey and want and years of waiting.
Her hands fisted in his shirt. Pulled him closer. His arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She gasped against his mouth. He swallowed the sound.
He pressed her against the window. The glass was cold against her back. His body was hot against her front. The contrast made her shiver. His mouth moved to her throat. Lips and teeth and tongue. He bit the curve of her neck, and she let out a broken gasp.
"Cillian," she breathed.
"Tell me to stop."
She couldn't. The word wouldn't come. Her body was already on fire. Her hands pulled at his shirt. He yanked it over his head and dropped it. She pressed her palms against his chest. Hot skin over hard muscle. The scar under her fingers. His heart is pounding.
His hands found the hem of her shirt, his shirt, the one she'd borrowed. He pulled it up. She raised her arms. It came off. The cool air hit her bare skin. She stood in nothing but a bra and his sweatpants. His gaze dropped to her body. Traced her. Devoured her.
"You're beautiful," he said. The words were rough. Like they'd been dragged out of him.
He unclasped her bra. It fell. His hands covered her breasts. Large and calloused. Her nipples hardened against his palms. He squeezed. She arched into him. A ragged breath escaped her.
He bent his head. Took one nipple in his mouth. Sucking. Licking. His tongue swirled around the peak, and she gripped his hair. Held him there. The sensation shot through her body and pooled between her thighs.
His other hand slid down. Pushed the sweatpants off her hips. They pooled at her feet. She stood naked against the window. The storm raged outside. His body pressed against hers. She could feel his hardness through his pants. Thick and rigid against her stomach.
She reached down. Found the waistband. Pushed his pants down. Her hand wrapped around his shaft. He groaned against her breast. The sound vibrated through her.
He was thick. Her fingers couldn't close around him. She stroked the length of him. Felt the hardness, the heat, the thickness pressing into her palm. The head of his cock was slick. She rubbed her thumb over it. His hips jerked.
"Vesper." His voice was fractured. Breaking.
He pulled back. Lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her to the bedroom. Three steps. He laid her on the bed and came down over her. His weight pressed her into the mattress. His body covered hers.
His mouth found hers again. Deep. Hungry. His tongue tangled with hers. She could feel his cock against her thigh. Hot and heavy. She wanted it. Wanted him inside her. The craving was a physical ache.
His hand slid between them. Down her stomach. Between her thighs. His fingers found her slit. Wet. Slick. Ready. He groaned when he felt it.
"You're so wet," he said against her mouth.
"I've been wet since the kitchen," she said. "Since you said you'd spend every night making sure I didn't regret it."
His finger pressed inside her. She gasped. Her hips rose. He pressed deeper and found the spot that made her vision blur.
"God, Cillian."
"Tell me what you want."
"You. Inside me. Now."
He shifted. Positioned himself. The head of his cock pressed against her opening. She felt him there. Thick. Ready. The taboo of it rushed through her. This was her stepbrother. This was forbidden. This was reckless and ruinous and everything she shouldn't do.
He pressed inside. Sliding deeper. Slow. Inch by inch. Filling her. Stretching her. She cried out. Her nails dug into his shoulders. He stopped.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No. Don't stop."
He pressed deeper. Claiming her. The fullness was overwhelming. Her body opened around him. Took him in. When he was fully inside, they both stilled. His forehead pressed against hers. His breath came in ragged gasps.
"Vesper." His voice broke on her name.
She wrapped her legs around him. Pulled him tighter. "Move."
He did. Slow at first. Rocking his hips. Thrusting. Each movement pressed him deeper. Each stroke sent fire through her body. She met him. Matched his rhythm. Their bodies moved together. Grinding. Rocking. The bed creaked beneath them.
His mouth found her breast again. Sucking. Biting. Nibbling the sensitive skin. She arched into him. Her hands gripped his back. She felt the muscle shift under her palms as he thrust.
"Faster," she said.
He obeyed. His hips snapped forward. The pace quickened. Each thrust drove him deep. She felt the pressure building. Tight and hot. Her body trembled.
"I'm close," she gasped.
"Let go."