"Come for me, Brigid," he commands, his playfulness momentarily giving way to desire. "Let go, love."
And I do, shattering against his mouth, my thighs trembling around his head as he works me through it, lapping up everything I give him like it's the finest delicacy. Unlike with Marius, there's no explosion of magic, just pure physical pleasure washing through me in waves.
As I come down, panting and boneless, Rory places one last kiss against my inner thigh before rising up to lie beside me. He pulls me against his chest, dropping kisses on my forehead, my temple, the tip of my nose.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, and I can taste myself on his lips when he kisses me. "Absolutely fucking beautiful." His hand wanders to my breast, and he casually thumbs the nipple, making me tremble.
I curl into him, savoring the warmth and solidity of him after the ethereal experience with Marius. Where Marius showed me the power and darkness within me, Rory reminds me that pleasure can also be simple.
"You make me feel safe," I confess quietly.
His arms tighten around me. "Always will, love. That's a promise."
Chapter Fifty
Brigid
Movement across the room draws my attention. Tiernan rises from the chair where he's been watching every lewd and lurid act, his eyes hooded. My breath catches at the sight of him—tall, muscular, his light brown hair falling across his forehead. The wooden bracelets around his wrists click softly as he approaches.
Unlike the others, Tiernan doesn't rush. His steps are measured, deliberate. He's studying me, analyzing every reaction like I'm a fascinating specimen he's cataloging. The thought makes me shiver.
"Your pupils are dilated," he notes, his voice low and clinical as he stands at the foot of the bed. "Respiration elevated. Skin flushed. Fascinating how your body responds so differently to each of us."
"Tiernan," I whisper, uncertainty and anticipation mingling in my voice.
"I've been observing," he continues, methodically removing his shirt. "Your responses to dominance. Your submission."
Rory chuckles beside me. "And here I thought you were just getting off watching."
"That, too," Tiernan admits without a hint of shame. His eyes never leave mine. "Move aside, Rory. My turn to collect data."
The way he says it makes heat pool between my legs. Clinical, detached—yet underneath, a current of raw hunger.
Rory kisses my cheek and slides off the bed.“Be a good girl for him, Brigid.”
As Rory leaves, Tiernan circles the bed like a predator. I feel simultaneously exposed and intrigued under his scrutiny.
"Pull your knees back to your chest and spread," he instructs, not a request, but an order.
"I'm going to taste you now." He positions himself between my legs, his touch precise as he arranges my thighs over his shoulders.
His first touch is experimental—a single finger tracing the length of my slit. I jerk involuntarily.
Before I can respond, he lowers his head and delivers a precise, flat-tongued lick from my entrance to my clit. The sensation is so controlled, so deliberate, that I gasp.
"Oh god."
"Not god," he corrects against my flesh. "Just excellent technique derived from careful observation."
He returns to his task with scientific precision, each stroke calculated for maximum effect. Where Rory was enthusiastic and playful, Tiernan is meticulous. He alternates pressure and patterns, noting each time I moan or twitch.
"Your labia are swelling," he murmurs. "Increased blood flow indicating optimal arousal."
He slides two fingers inside me without warning, curling them expertly against my front wall.
"I’m going to make you come so hard you forget your own name." His clinical tone gives way to something darker. " I've been waiting all night to feel you squeeze my fingers while I suck your clit."
The sudden shift in his demeanor makes me clench around his fingers. "Yes," I gasp. "Like that."
