I nodded. “Yes. Yes,” I whispered again—permission—enthusiastic permission. “But…” I started, suddenly self-conscious as Ciaran’s face was just inches away from the most intimate part of me. He looked up from between my legs andI was shaking all over at the sight of it. “I’ve never… donethisbefore.”
Concern flashed in Ciaran’s eyes, a solid line forming between his dark brows. “You have had sex before, though?”
“Yes.” My voice was breathy and low, so very unlike how it usually sounded. “But no one has ever donethis.To me,” I clarified.
Something inscrutable flashed over Ciaran’s features before they softened and he nodded. “I see.” I think I heard him mumble “Feckin’ dryshite” under his breath.
“I just… I’m not sure what to do.” Blush crept up my chest, my neck, my cheeks heating at the admission.
“I’ve got you, love. You don’t have to do a thing. Just feel. Take what I’m going to give to you.” Ciaran’s voice took on that authoritative tone that always sent a thrill through me.
He lowered his head, slowly, torturously, running kisses along the inside of my thighs, higher. I think I was whimpering. Finally, he hooked his thumbs in the band of my underwear and rid me of them.
“Look at you.” Ciaran’s baritone rumbled along the sensitive skin on my thighs. “You’re so wet.” He nipped at my inner thigh and my back bowed. “So responsive…”
Goddess, had I ever been this soaked before? I didn’t know how to respond—I was out of my depth as Ciaran parted me with precise fingers and lowered his head.
The first brush of his tongue set fireworks alight behind my eyelids, the sensation so intense it was almost too much. But then he was circling my clit, slowly at first, with torturous, agonizing precision.Oh.Ciaran knew what he was doing and he would take his time doing it. My head fell back as he continued those slow, steady circles. This. Nothing hadeverfelt like this.Oh Goddess.
“Fuck, Seraphina, your taste—” Ciaran groaned into me. And though maybe Ishouldhave felt self-conscious or shy, about that declaration, I didn’t. Because his tongue was flicking over me, the pressure building as electricity filled my veins, rippling over my skin. I took Ciaran’s advice, my hands grappling in the threadbare sheets, trying to ground myself; I was going to burst out of my skin.
Short shallow gasps escaped from me as Ciaran continued his ministrations. He was composing—creating a symphony with each glide of his tongue. Soft brushes that gently built, evolving into a syncopated pattern that left me hanging on the edge—anticipation climbing, each lingering brush, each staccato flick leading to that final crescendo.
When it was almost too much, he pulled back for a moment, his eyes roving up my body to meet mine. “Is this okay?” His hand brushed up the inside of my thigh, one finger slipping inside me, pulsing.
A strangledyesescaped me as he returned his tongue, continuing to circle. I relaxed into him, welcoming the feel of him inside me.
“And this?” Another finger joined the first. I nodded.
“Uh huh.” The stretch finally helped to satiate that relentless ache as he pulsed his fingers in time with the rhythm of his mouth, curling them upwards to stroke at a deliciously sensitive spot inside of me.Goddess. Release was building, down my spine, over my skin, more, more, more. I wanted it all…
“Don’t. Stop. Never. Stop,” I said—propriety and control were things long lost to me. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more friction, more pressure, just more— And I found release then: a kaleidoscope of colour bursting behind my eyelids, legs trembling. Ciaran took my directions well. Maybe too well. He did not stop, stroking and flicking andcircling as I barrelled into oblivion, my hips arching off the bed. And when I stilled, he did not.
“Ciaran.” A desperate groan. It was too much. I was going to combust. But his name on my lips did nothing to discourage him as he sent me over the edge again, as another climax came crashing over me, chasing the first. Wave after wave, pleasure that I had never known before, lightning skittering over my skin. And only then, when I was almost sobbing, did Ciaran stop.
He looked up at me, his tongue running over his bottom lip, savouring the taste of me, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I have been wanting to make you sound like that since the first time I heard you sing on the roof.”
I whimpered in response, scrambling to my elbows as he raised himself onto the bed beside me.
“Ciaran…” I whispered, reaching toward him. He pressed a kiss to my lips, tasting ofhim, and nowmetoo. My blood heated inexplicably at the thought of it.
“Shhhh, love… there will be time for more later,” he breathed, “and honestly, you deserve so much more than a threadbare bed in this shitty tavern.” He gestured to the room around us. I had barely looked at it, I was so distracted when we arrived. The paint on the walls was faded and peeling. The wooden headboard on the bed was chipped, the blankets and pillows rough and lumpy. The single window was covered with a thin tattered curtain. There wasn’t even a bathroom. And yet…
“I don’t care where we are. All I want is you.” I tried to push against his chest, but he was immovable as granite and smirking at me with smug satisfaction. It was as if he had been planning this for a long, long time. Maybe since the day we met. The inevitable path we’d been on from the start.
“Sleep, Seraphina. I promise you can have your turn with me when we are safely Beneath Lutesse.” He hovered over me, kissed my eyelids, pulling the thin blankets up around us. Hetucked me into his side, curling around my back. I sighed. Even though we were currently fugitives, running from a dangerous and deadly group of people who wanted to kill us, even though I had just dug a bullet out of Ciaran’s chest less than an hour ago, I had never felt safer. And exhaustion took its toll, the stress of the masquerade and our wild chase through the streets of Lutesse catching up with me. Sleep had been elusive since leaving my old life behind. But here, tucked in beside Ciaran, brain and body addled by untold pleasure, it came swiftly. I drifted off peacefully, despite the situation we’d found ourselves in.
I must have slept onlya few hours, because it was still dark when I awoke. I found myself in a strange place, naked, curled up next to Ciaran. I knew I should have felt all kinds of things after the complete and unmitigated disaster that was the masquerade and everything that had happened after, but I couldn’t help but smile.
I was naked and curled up next to Ciaran. Finally.
He had wrung pleasure from me that was so all-consuming, so exquisite, that I had never felt anything like it. And he had stopped me. Stopped me from reciprocating. And that just wasn’t fair.
I shifted to see him better in the dark room, his features softened by sleep. He looked younger, more innocent. Carefree. One muscled arm was raised over his head, tucked behind the pillow on the threadbare bed. His chest rose and fell gently. A sprinkling of dark hair curled on that golden chest and in the indents under his arms. And he smelled… intoxicating. Like salt and sweat and rosemary, and justhim.
I squeezed my legs together beneath the thin blankets. That quickly I was slick and ready for him again. I wanted that body pressed up against every inch of me—wanted it inside me. I could inhale that intoxicating scent of him every day for the rest of my life. It felt so, so right. It had never felt this way with Seff. Never with anyone. Like it was always supposed to be Ciaran. He had played my body like an instrument—one he knew intimately—and I had responded with such sweet music…
As if he could somehow hear my delightfully sinful thoughts, Ciaran’s eyes blinked open. He sat up. “Is everything okay?”
