Chapter 5 Kieran
KIERAN
Every sweep of his fingers along my waist sent goosebumps racing over my skin and a shiver of pleasure straight up my spine.
The soft cotton of his clothing was a fucking insult. Too solid and too much between us. Every movement, every press of his body against mine, was charged with hunger—months of denial pouring into a single, consuming touch.
A fever bloomed beneath my skin, spreading until every inch of me answered him. My heartbeat fell into rhythm with his, pounding against his chest with each breath he took.
When he finally drew back, just enough that our ragged breaths tangled between us, I saw the tremor running through his frame and the wild pulse beating at his throat.
“I thought I’d lost this forever,” he said, his voice roughened and unsteady. The deeper tone sent a shiver through me. I pressed closer, my palm flattening over the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. His breath hitched once before he added, “I thought I’d lost you, Kieran.”
“You didn’t,” I whispered, my voice barely a sound. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The sound that came from him was low, feral—half-growl, half-exhale—as he guided me backward. His hands traced down my spine, deliberate and heavy, until my back met the cool wall.
For a heartbeat, his hands framed my face, eyes searching mine.
Then his touch shifted down my throat, across my collarbone, along the curve of my breasts, and flattened at my waist. Every motion was slow but claiming, like he was relearning me inch by inch.
The weight of his hands turned possessive, grounding.
I could feel the restraint vibrating through him.
His mouth followed down my jaw, to the hollow of my throat. His lips brushed the place where a scar should have been, and that simple touch sparked through me like lightning. My knees buckled, but his grip tightened, steadying me as his mouth drifted lower.
He was so broad, his body a solid wall of heat pressed to mine, and the sight of him—focused, intent—made my breath catch.
When his mouth closed around my nipple, the contrast of warmth and pressure stole a cry from my lips. His other hand came up to cup my breast, thumb circling with slow, deliberate precision until a sound I didn’t recognize broke free from my throat.
Every motion carried purpose, but beneath the hunger was something quieter. Worship. The air thickened, heavy and hot, his want bleeding into reverence.
He was savoring every breath, tremor, and unspoken plea that hung between us.
Then he sank to his knees, and for a second, the shift in power almost made me sway. Gabe kneeling was its own kind of worship, but there was nothing submissive about it. This was devotion, sharp and consuming—his control and my surrender bound together.
His palms slid up my thighs, heat and strength in every inch his hands traveled. A low growl rumbled from his chest as his gaze dragged over me, dark and possessive. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Kieran.”
His expression softened, but his frantic hands didn’t stop. They kept moving like he was mapping me, memorizing me, claiming what he already knew was his.
He leaned forward until his forehead rested against my stomach, voice rough and shredded. “I thought about this every night after the first time. The shape of you. The sound you make when you moan my name.”
The words hit harder than any kiss. My fingers slid into his hair, gripping tightly as a shiver ran through him. “Gabe, I—”
The rest caught halfway out of my throat as Gabe’s mouth met my center. The groan that escaped him was guttural. Heat rushed through me with the knowledge that he could taste how wet I was for him, could feel how much I craved him.
His tongue plunged into me, hot and relentless.
My hands tightened in his hair as he alternated between circling my clit and fucking me with his mouth.
Every motion was deliberate and wild, like he was barely holding himself back from devouring me whole.
He worshiped me with that same obsessive focus, every flick of his tongue dragging me closer until my knees trembled, the world narrowing to the sound of his breath and the pulse between my thighs.
When my body finally broke and his lips closed around that fragile point of pleasure, it was too much. I came with a cry that left my head spinning, his name heavy on my lips. When he pulled back, my fingers softened in his hair. His eyes were wild and half-lidded, his lips slick with my desire.
The sight alone had my heart rate spiking.
Before I could speak, he rose and carried me toward the bed, softly depositing me there.
My body sank into the soft sheets as he braced himself above me—knees pressed into the mattress, one hand beside my head, the other reaching for his shirt.
The way he stripped it off distracted me, the display of muscle across his stomach making my breath hitch.
I reached for him before I could think, desperate for the feel of his skin beneath my palms.
I ached to taste him. To give him everything he’d just given me.
“It’s only fair I taste you too,” I murmured, voice low but trembling with hunger.
His breath stuttered, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might protest. I didn’t give him the chance. My hands coaxed him closer, all teasing pretense gone, left with pure need.
“You want me in your mouth, Little Star?” he rumbled, gaze locked on mine.
“Yes,” I whimpered, squirming beneath the intensity of his stare.
“Only if I get to lose myself between your thighs again at the same time."
In a flash, he dropped back on the bed, dragging me over him. My knees braced on either side of his head, his breath hot against my inner thighs. A shiver tore through me, my clit still throbbing from release, but my body already begged for more.
I didn’t have the power to resist him.
“You just did tha—”
“Kieran.” He interrupted in a commanding tone that had my mouth snapping shut. “If I could live with my face buried between your thighs and had nothing else, I’d be a very happy man.”
Gabe was always focused on my pleasure. Even that first night when he’d taken my virginity in what I thought would be a one-night-stand moment of rebellion, his attention had never wavered. Now was no different.
Unable to deny his words, especially with the way his voice had my center tightening, I leaned forward and wrapped my hand around his hard length, still trapped beneath his sweatpants.
A sound of frustration slipped out as I tried to shove them down, mixing with the moan that escaped when his tongue dragged against my pussy.
Gabe lifted his hips just enough for me to free his cock.
I marveled at how hard and thick he was as he hummed against my center, the vibration nearly undoing me.
When my tongue brushed over the tip of his cock, Gabe’s grip turned bruising on my hips.
A hiss escaped his lips at the feel of my mouth on him.
I wanted, no, needed, to show Gabe that he deserved the same pleasure he gave me.
Taking him into my mouth, I relaxed and began to move, slowly and deliberately. The moment he hit the back of my throat, I gagged softly, the sharp edge of the sensation heightening everything—the taste of his salty precum, the tension in his body, the rough sound that broke from his chest.
The way Gabe’s tongue moved against me shifted, swirling, sucking, plunging. This was no longer worship, but a deep-seated hunger coming to the surface. My thighs trembled from holding myself over him, the effort mingling with pleasure until I couldn’t tell the two apart.
I tried to hold back, not wanting to fall apart before I dragged him there with me.
My hand tightened at the base of his cock.
His length was slick with spit as I took him deeper, my throat stretching around him.
This time the wet sound of my gagging filled the room.
Gabe’s low groan answered it—rough and vibrating straight through me.
“Little Star,” he warned, voice rough and strangled, “if you keep that up, I’m going to finish buried in your throat.”
The thought of it had my core clenching. There was something so primal about taking him inside of me like that.
I hummed in response, the vibration against him sending a shudder through his body.
That was all it took for him to quickly pull me up and off him, the shift so sudden it stole my breath as we rolled. I was suddenly beneath him on the bed as he shoved his sweats aside fully and settled between my legs.
For a moment, I could only stare at his cock. Breathless before a whimper caught in my throat at the sight of him above me, bare, powerful, and coming undone.
The small quirk at the corner of his mouth from before was gone. This was the other side of Gabe. The one from our first night together and the heated moment we had down in the fallen camp.
His hands bracketed my hips, fingers pressing into skin that still hummed from his earlier touch. I arched into him instinctively, craving him in a way that left no room for thought.
The last time Gabe had been inside me, it had been different—another form, another world. But now, I wanted him like this. All of him.
His mouth crashed against mine, the kiss deep and consuming before he pulled back slightly, leaving me panting as he stared down at me.
“The next time I come,” he murmured roughly, “it’s going to be inside your pussy, buried as deep as I can get.”
Before I could beg for it, he lined the thick head of his cock against my soaked heat and thrust forward in one hard, claiming stroke.
I cried out, the sound torn between relief and shock as his hips met mine.
He watched me through it, eyes wild, feral—possessive in a way that made my pulse stutter.
The air between us turned ragged. Every thrust of his hips was a declaration, every sound that left him a promise I could feel down to my bones.