Chapter 22 #3
And that’s what he does as he consumes the mess, then thrusts his tongue deep inside me.
I should be horrified, mortified, but the feel of him leaves me delirious. This is entirely new, something dangerously intimate I didn’t even know I could want, and I am breaking beneath the weight of it.
“Zory... please...”
A primal sound tears out of me, one I barely recognize, as his tongue plunges and retreats, then seals over my entrance to suck before thrusting again, licking me open.
I’m becoming so hard so fast it’s terrifying. I never knew a body could feel this much, that a single touch in a place I’ve spent my life hiding could shatter my entire sense of self.
“Mm. You like having me here, baby?” he asks in a low growl against my sensitive skin. “Tell me. I want to hear you break for it.”
I realize that’s exactly what I’m doing—pressing myself into his mouth, chasing a high I can’t resist.
“Your tongue... it’s too much.” I groan when he moves it side to side inside me. “Ciaran... I’m going to... oh—”
I thought I was spent, but my body obviously has other ideas. I’m breaking all over again, spilling across the sheets, and even though there isn’t much left, his dark hair catches the evidence of it.
“That's twice.” My face burns. “I don’t… that's not something I do.”
“It is now.” He says it like he's recording it somewhere permanent.
Something in my chest turns over at how certain he sounds.
He lets my legs fall to the mattress, and I tense, feeling a sudden, hollow disappointment at the void he left behind.
I reach out, my hand trembling as I touch his face. I find the dampness on his skin and guide my fingers to his mouth. “Take it,” I breathe. “All of it.”
“Mm,” he hums, licking my fingers clean, kissing them while looking at me with half-closed lids.
I could watch his face all day, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world right now. Like I’m the only thing that matters.
“I’m taking you again,” he announces against my fingers. “Or you can take me. Whichever it is, I need to keep touching you. I can’t stop.”
A weak laugh slips out of me. “You’re actually insane if you think my body is surviving another round so soon.”
“Nah. I’ll be ready soon.” His cock nudges against me, a blunt reminder of his intent.
"You cannot be serious."
"I'm always serious." His cock nudges against me again, entirely unrepentant.
"I have a Noctis class in six hours and I can already tell you I won't be able to sit through it."
That stops him. Something crosses his face, and then he barks a laugh. "Say that again."
"What?"
"The part where I ruined your class." He drops his forehead to my shoulder, shoulders shaking. "Light, I'm going to think about that all week."
My heart does that stupid skipping thing again and I swallow hard. “Fine. Let’s clean up first.”
“Understood.” Ciaran vaults from the mattress, and I hate the hollow ache that settles beneath my ribs the moment my hand falls from his face. The cold air rushes in where he used to be, leaving me exposed.
“I’ll go prep the water for a bath,” he says, glancing at the mess we’ve made. “And I’ll have Mariette come up and change the sheets while we’re in the tub.”
My face burns, the heat stinging my cheeks. “No!”
He pauses, one eyebrow arching in amusement. “No?”
“I don’t want anyone to see... this.” I gesture vaguely at the ruined silk, but the sudden movement jolts through my frame. I wince, a sharp flare of heat stabbing through the shoulder I fell on.
Ciaran’s humor vanishes. He reaches out, his hand hovering over the joint. “What was that? You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, shifting to mask the discomfort. “Just an old injury. It isn’t important.”
He narrows his eyes, weighing my dismissive tone against the way I’m tensing, but he doesn’t press yet. He settles back on his heels.
“I don’t want your staff knowing what we did,” I continue, trying to pull his focus back. “It’s mortifying.”
Ciaran grins, the expression sharp and predatory. “You think they don’t already know, little mouse? You weren’t exactly quiet.” He steps closer, looming over the edge of the bed. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“It’s not that,” I snap, my voice tight. “It’s private. Just... please. Don’t call anyone.”
He watches me, then chuckles roughly and relents. “Fine. If it makes you feel better, I’ll find where the linens are hidden. But you’re helping.”
The thought unsettles me more than it should. Someone like Ciaran Virel isn’t supposed to bend around other people’s discomfort, but he does for me.
He lingers, his finger tracing the honey-colored birthmark high on my inner thigh. “And what about this?”
I have to force my gaze away from his straining cock.
“Little mouse?”
“It’s nothing,” I repeat, my voice thin.
“You go shy over the strangest things.” He watches me for another second before exhaling through his nose. “Fine. Be mysterious and emotionally complicated, then.”
I frown. Normally he’d needle me until I caved. Instead, he just lets it go, and somehow that’s stranger.
So I poke him in the chest. “Damaris says you’re a playboy.”
He catches my wrist. “See? That’s exactly the kind of thing I’d normally interrogate.” A smug grin tugs at his mouth. “But considering you let me fuck you twice and fell asleep in my bed, I’m feeling unusually generous.”
My face flushes. “That’s not how generosity works.”
“No?” His thumb brushes over my wrist. “Then let’s call it a reward for good behavior.”
“A reward.”