"Say it," he demands, his face inches from mine, eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light.
"Yes," I finally manage. "Please, Cillian."
He doesn't move. Instead, his lips curl into a wicked smile as he brushes the head of his cock against me, just enough pressure to make me arch, but not enough to satisfy.
"You think it'll be that easy?" he whispers, tracing the seam of my lips with his thumb. His touch is gentler now, the roughness melting into something more tender. "After all this time?"
I whimper, trying to shift my hips to take him inside, but his hand presses firmly on my stomach, holding me still. "Please," I breathe, my voice breaking. "I need you."
His eyes soften at the edges, something vulnerable flickering behind them. "Say it again," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips against mine. "I love hearing you beg for me."
"Please, Cillian," I whisper against his mouth. "Please, I need you inside me.Please."
A sound escapes him, something between a groan and a sigh, and then he's pushing into me—slow, deliberate, watching my face as I take him inch by inch. The stretch burns in the best way, my body yielding to him .
We both sigh as he fills me completely, a sound so intimate it sends a shiver down my spine. My body stretches to accommodate him, the sensation overwhelming in its perfection.
"Is breá liom do chorp1," he whispers against my ear, his Irish flowing like honey. "The way you take me,mo stór."
His hips begin a slow, measured rhythm, each thrust deliberate and deep. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.
"Cillian," I plead, need spilling from my lips. "Deeper.Le do thoil mo ghrá.2"
His eyes flash with heat at my words. "Listen to you," he murmurs, his pace still maddeningly slow. "Begging me in Irish. You know what that does to me."
He shifts slightly, changing the angle so that he hits that spot inside me with every thrust. I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. His pace suddenly quickens, his grip on my wrists tightening as his control begins to slip. Each thrust comes harder now, more desperate, the gentle lover from moments ago transforming into something wilder.
"Tá tú go hálainn3," he growls against my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "So beautiful when you take me like this."
I cry out when his teeth find my neck, not quite breaking skin but leaving marks I'll feel tomorrow. He moves to my ear, capturingthe lobe between his teeth, tugging just enough to send shivers racing down my spine.
"Cill—God—" My words dissolve into incoherent sounds as he releases my wrists to cup my breast, thumb circling my nipple before his mouth replaces his fingers. He sucks hard, the sensation shooting straight between my legs, making me clench around him.
"That's it," he praises, voice rough with exertion. "Just like that. Squeeze me tighter,darling."
His hips snap forward with renewed vigor, the sound of skin against skin filling the small room. My fingers tangle in his hair as he moves to my other breast, lavishing it. His hand slides up my body, fingers trailing along my collarbone before wrapping gently around my throat. My pulse quickens against his palm as his eyes find mine, searching for permission.
"Is this what you need?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.
I nod, unable to speak as his grip tightens—not enough to cut off my breath, just enough to make my head swim with pleasure. His other hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit with practiced precision.
"4Caillte," he whispers as his fingers circle faster. "Lost for me."
The dual sensations overwhelm me—the pressure at my throat increasing as his fingers work magic between my legs. The room spins as oxygen becomes precious, every nerve ending inmy body suddenly, painfully alive. His cock fills me completely, hitting deeper with each thrust as the pressure builds to something almost unbearable.
"Give it to me," he commands, his voice raw. "5Tar dom, a stór."
My vision blurs at the edges as the pressure in my body coalesces into something magnificent and terrible. When it finally breaks, it's unlike anything I've ever felt—except with him. Only ever with him. My body contracts around him, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me. I can't tell where I end and he begins, my throat raw from crying out his name.
"That's it," he praises, his voice strained as he fights his own release. "Just like that, dove. Perfect. You're so perfect for me."
His rhythm falters, becoming more erratic as he chases his own pleasure. I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"Is tú mo shaol,6" I whisper against his ear, and something in him breaks.
His body tenses, muscles rigid as he drives into me one last time. I feel him pulse inside me as he comes, his face buried in my neck. His teeth find that sensitive spot between my collarbone and neck, biting down just hard enough to mark me. The sweet sting sends aftershocks through my already oversensitive body.
Tears I didn’t realize I was holding back spill down my cheeks. Not from pain, but from something deeper—the betrayal, theunyielding little red ribbon that ties our souls together, to the simple fact that I will always love Cillian O’Dwyer until the day I die.
