Chapter 21 #2
He hissed as her hand brushed over the bulge now covered only by a thin layer of some soft fabric that was nearly as silky as the skin beneath it. Despite the state she’d been in that day in her apartment, she had full memory of how he had felt in her hand, and however briefly, in her mouth.
She stroked her hand over him again then met his eye almost as if asking for permission as she hooked her fingers over the waistband.
Ciaran just looked back at her with those half-lidded eyes. The muscles in his arms and stomach trembled with barely-leashed tension as if it took physical effort not to take command of the situation. Permission enough.
Jal pulled the waistband down and his erection sprang free to rest on his belly, reaching nearly to his navel.
She wrapped her hand around him and stroked from root to tip.
His eyes rolled back in his head and his chin kicked up.
His hips rose with the next stroke. The third had him barking out, “Oh, Christ, Jal.”
She gave him another of her smoky laughs at that and crawled off his lap. He opened his eyes, giving her a look of disbelief. In response, she gripped his pants and yanked. He shifted down the bed with them eliciting an amused grunt of surprise.
“Strong wee thing, aren’t you?” he remarked as he lifted his hips and pushed the material down over his ass.
With a second yank, they slid free, his belt narrowly missing her face as the material flew past over her shoulder.
There was a loud crash as the lamp toppled to the floor, plunging the room into darkness.
Jal ducked instinctively at the sound. A wave of cold banked the heat deep inside, and her muscles went rigid, bracing for Ciaran’s reaction. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice wobbled.
There was a rustle of sheets, and her mind showed her an image of him standing over her, hand raised, fury creasing his beautiful face. She closed her eyes, refusing to believe what she was seeing, and shook her head.
Instead, he only touched her with a knuckle, gently stroking up and down her arm.
When she dared to open her eyes, she found Ciaran sitting on the edge of the bed watching her as he removed his socks of all things. She was absurdly relieved at the sight. There was nothing more ridiculous than a naked man still wearing socks.
His eyes still blazed with heat, but not from anger. “It’s nay bother, lass.” he replied. “Come here to me.”
Jal reached up and removed the two fan-shaped combs from her hair and dropped them to the floor. The heavy curls cascaded down over her shoulders, brushing the sensitive peaks of her breasts with each step toward him, stopping when she stood between his knees.
He wrapped his arms around her hips and pressed a kiss to the hollow between her breasts. She arched her back, leaning into his touch and buried her hands in his hair as he blazed a trail of kisses to her nipple and wrapped his mouth around it.
Her breathing hitched when his tongue swirled around the tight tip while his thumbs slid under the lace covering her hips and slid the thong to the floor. She stepped out of the scrap of material and kicked it away.
There was a flash of delicious pain as he nipped at the flesh in his mouth, and he once again eased the hurt with his tongue.
He looked up at her, his mouth still wrapped around the tip of her breast, and a steady throb between her thighs pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Fast, and not at all steady.
Craving the taste of him, she tore his head away from her breast and captured his mouth with hers.
The first taste of him was enough to burn away the last scrap of fear that he could ever hurt her.
The first stroke of his tongue sliding along the length of hers, made the world disappear in an inferno where only the two of them existed, where only he could keep her from being consumed entirely, or else burn with her.
There came a rumble from deep in his chest and his hands slid down to grip her ass.
Then, without any warning, he scooped her feet out from under her and dropped to his back.
She barely managed to catch herself before she crashed down with her full weight on his chest, but she still ended up sprawled across him, legs split around his hips, his hardness sliding through her core and rubbing against the bundle of nerves there.
She locked gazes with him and rocked her hips once, feeling the tip of him slide past her entrance, but he did not slip inside.
Rational thought pushed through the haze in her mind, reminding her that, while she was on birth control, it was better to be safe than sorry. “Do you have a condom?”
He turned his head and swung one arm out in the direction of his nightstand.
She chuckled at the helpless little grunting noises he made as each slap of his hand didn’t bring him any closer and crawled up over him to dig inside the drawer.
He took the opportunity to suckle her breast while it was in reach.
After a moment spent moving around the items inside, she withdrew a small box and returned to his lap.
Ciaran plucked the box from her hand and removed one of the foil packets and tossed the box over his shoulder. He tore it open with his teeth and rolled the condom down his length. When he looked back up at her, the blaze in his eyes said much more than words.
She licked her lips and wrapped her hand around the tip of his erection and slid slowly to the base with a firm pressure that brought back that rumble in his throat.
She held him in place as she rose up on her knees and pointed him at her entrance.
They groaned in unison as the head of him slid inside, stretching her in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever.
She slowly lowered another inch, two, then withdrew before sliding down again, claiming a few more inches.
To torture them both, she rose up until just the tip remained and then locked eyes as she slid slowly down his length, feeling every delicious stretch until he was buried to the hilt inside her.
She paused for a moment to adjust to the incredible sensation of fullness, as if he touched all of her from the inside and, when she started to move, it was with small circles of her hips.
His head kicked back on a curse, and she swirled another circle, a satisfied smile curled her lips at the groan that followed.
His hands slid over her hips, and gripped firmly, urging her upwards.
She went but clenched her muscles around his cock as she did, only to relax on the way down with enough force that her ass slapped against his thighs.
She repeated the motion, soon falling into a rhythm with him lifting to meet each of her downward strokes.
The air filled with the sound of flesh meeting, the gentle creak of the bed punctuating each movement.
Jal’s hands roved her own body, sweeping over her breasts, and up into her hair, lifting the weight to cool the skin of her back and neck as she rode him.
A throbbing started deep in her belly, growing in intensity with each squeeze of her walls around his cock, which seemed to stiffen and swell even more inside her, until it was almost too much to bear anymore without coming undone.
It was exactly what she wanted, but still she needed more. More. More.
As if Ciaran could sense how close she was, his hands dug deeper into her skin, dragging her down harder with every upward thrust of his hips, driving him deeper.
Deeper than she ever thought possible. For sure, he was going to leave marks on her skin, but she found she didn’t care if it meant that he kept meeting her thrust for thrust. His pants soon turned to grunts, his head pressed hard against the bed but his eyes, though dark and hooded, never once left hers.
She gripped his forearms as the first tremors began, her hips losing some of their rhythm, as the wave built up, and up, and up. “Come with me,” she panted, each word timed with a frantic thrust. Her lips parted, growing wider as she teetered closer and closer to the edge.
He arched his back and rolled his hips, pressing deep. Deeper. His cock seemed to swell even more, if that were possible. His voice was deep and strained from effort, but also triumphant. “As you wish.”
She came apart on the next thrust, pressing down with all her weight as electricity spiraled across every inch of her skin, her muscles rhythmically clenching around him with a ferocity that made her cry out, her back arching, head thrown back.
Ciaran thrust into her once, twice more and then held her tightly to him as he kicked back his head and roared.
She shuddered over him, every slight movement, every spasm of his cock inside her, created an aftershock almost as powerful as the orgasm itself. Moments stretched into an eternity of sensation, until finally the waves receded and she stilled and gazed down at him.
He sprawled beneath her like a Celtic god who had crashed to earth, with her rising triumphantly above. The dim light from the living room cast harsh shadows on his angular features, and scattered silver into his tousled hair.
When she leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips, he slid out, leaving behind an emptiness that made her whimper at the loss.
He laughed softly against her lips, then wrapped an arm around her and rolled to the side, urging her mouth open at the same time, the strokes of his tongue now soft and soothing.
A moment later, he broke the kiss and eased out of her arms.
“I’ll be right back.”
There was just enough light for her to admire the taught muscles of his legs and ass as he left the room. She heard the closing of a door and the flush of a toilet and then the sound of his footsteps as he moved through the apartment securing the front door, extinguishing the lights.
Her eyes had long since adjusted to the gloom, but she could only make him out as a darker shadow moving across the room when he returned. The bed dipped, and then, he was there, drawing her into his arms, her back to his front.
“Sleep, lass.” he whispered in her ear. “There’s no one but you and me tonight.”