My head falls back, a choked sound spilling out before I can catch it. His hands hold me steady—one on my hip, one sliding up my stomach, flattening beneath my breast like he needs the proof that I’m real.
“Siobhán,” he groans against my skin, voice wrecked. “Mo sholas… you’ll be the death of me.”
“Good,” I gasp, gripping his hair tighter. “Then die properly.”
He laughs into me—broken, obedient, utterly ruined—and does exactly what I command. His tongue slides through me, warm and insistent, and I can't help the moan that escapes my lips. I'm trying to maintain control, to keep playing this game whereI'm in charge, but God—when he does that thing with his tongue, circling and pressing just right—my thighs start trembling.
"Like that," I command, voice already breaking. "Right there, don't stop."
Cillian hums against me, the vibration sending sparks up my spine. His hands grip my thighs tighter, spreading me wider for his mouth. I try to focus, to keep giving orders, but my mind is dissolving into pure sensation.
"You taste like heaven," he murmurs against me, not lifting his head. "Like everything I've ever wanted."
I tug his hair, trying to reassert control. "I didn't say you could talk."
He chuckles, the sound dark and dangerous. "No?" And then his tongue flattens, making one long, slow pass that has my head falling back, a gasp torn from my throat.
"Oh God—"
"That's it," he whispers, and I can feel his smile against my inner thighs. "That's it, let go for me."
I moan, trying to maintain control, but the heat of his mouth is overwhelming. His tongue draws lazy circles around my clit, each pass bringing me closer to the edge. I'm supposed to becommanding him, but my thoughts scatter with every stroke of his tongue.
"Cillian—" My voice breaks as he sucks gently, the pressure perfect and maddening. "I can't—"
"Can't what,a stór?" he murmurs against me, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh. He looks up at me, green eyes dark with desire, lips glistening. "Can't think straight anymore? Can't remember who's supposed to be in charge?"
I try to glare at him, but he chooses that moment to slide two fingers inside me, curling them forward as his mouth returns to my clit. My back arches involuntarily, a strangled cry escaping my throat.
"That's it," he growls, voice vibrating against me. "Let me hear you, Siobhán. Let me hear how good I make you feel."
"Fuck," I breathe, my hips rocking against his mouth of their own accord. "Your tongue should be illegal."
He chuckles, the vibration making me whimper. "Only for you," he says, before diving back in with renewed purpose.
My body tightens suddenly around his fingers as pleasure explodes through me. I cry out his name, my hands gripping his hair as waves of ecstasy crash through me. I'm barely coherent, trembling and gasping as he works me through it, his tongue relentless until the last aftershock subsides.
Before I can catch my breath, Cillian rises in one fluid motion. He spins me around, his hands firm but not rough, and bends me over the desk. My palms flatten against the polished wood as he pushes my dress up, bunching the fabric around my waist.
"Is this what you want?" he growls against my ear, his body pressed against mine from behind. "To be taken right here, on top of all my work? On top of everything that isn't you?"
"Yes," I gasp, arching back against him. "Please, Cill—"
I hear the swift sound of his belt unbuckling, then his zipper. His hand slides up my spine, pressing gently between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned to the desk.
"You think you're in charge?" he murmurs, his voice dark velvet against my ear.
"You love it," I tease back, rolling my hips against him deliberately. The friction makes him hiss through his teeth, his hands tightening on my waist. "Don't pretend you don't."
His chuckle is dark and molten against my neck. "Careful,mo chroí.You're playing with fire."
"Maybe I want to get burned." I reach behind me to tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss over my shoulder. Our lips meet at an awkward angle, but it doesn't matter—the heat between us could incinerate the entire office.
When he pulls away, his eyes are nearly black with desire. I feel him position himself behind me, the blunt pressure making my breath catch. "Tell me again," he commands softly, his voice rough. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You," I breathe, arching my back. "Always you, Cillian."
He enters me in one smooth thrust, filling me completely. I gasp, fingers scrambling for purchase on the desk as he sets a rhythm that's both reverent and possessive. One of his hands splays across my lower back while the other reaches around to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric of my dress. Each thrust pushes me against the desk, papers crinkling beneath me.
