In a move that was hunter quick, he pulled out, got to his knees, and flipped me over on all fours. My ass was facing him, and after he ripped my underwear off, he entered me from behind. I was already soaking wet—all over—and it felt like he slid in all the way to the hilt.
We both stilled while the pleasure seemed to consume us whole.
He pushed my legs open a little wider, and it felt like he was touching my womb. My head hung some, my arms trembling, trying to adjust to the size of him and this position. We’d been having a lot of sex, but this was the first time I felt him this deep. Where there was a thin line between pain and pleasure.
He gathered my hair in his fist and pulled my head up. He leaned over me and breathed in my ear, “How does this feel, my darlin’?”
“So good,” I breathed out.
He started to move. Slow at first, where I felt each stroke along my sensitive inner walls, and when I started to sound like him, wild, he started to move faster, harder. His free hand gripped my hip, hard enough I knew he was going to leave a bruise.
I wanted him to bruise me down to the bone.
Pressure was building inside of me. It was so intense, I could feel myself cracking, about to shatter and let the light of the high flood in.
He reached over and started to touch me between the legs. My entire body seized before it rushed with scalding heat, and I cried out. My cries were met by his animalistic grunts as he spilled himself inside of me.
Once my heart calmed and real life returned, the woods around us almost seemed too silent. My eyes started to droop.
The atmosphere. The food. Our time reading. What we’d just done. It all seemed to slam into me at once.
Cian slid out of me and pulled me down with him on the blanket. He grabbed for his shirt and helped me put it on. He pulled his jeans on but didn’t bother buttoning or zipping them up. He set me close to his chest, and even though the weather was warm and muggy, a cool wind blew, and I basked in it. The branches rustled and sunlight broke through the leaves, softly falling on our faces.
“Maeve.”
It took a second for his voice to reach me. I blinked up at him.
“You are my love.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, my voice raspy.
I scooted even closer to him, as close as I could get, and his arms around me felt like reality, but at the same time, the exact opposite. They were an escape. All those characters and worlds and experiences—he was every one of them and even more to come.
He set his chin on my head and we both fell asleep.
Chapter17
Cian
Iripped the tarp from Da’s ancient off-road vehicle. I wasn’t even sure if it had a proper name. No one ever told me if it did. We always called the hunk of metal the “Thing,” because it looked like some kind of off-road vehicle but had no real title.
Keenan took care of it. Kept it in pristine condition. He’d told me years after my parents were killed that my Da had taken my Mam out on their first date in it. Da had left Keenan to take care of it after we’d left for Boston. He couldn’t wait to get it back so he could take Mam for rides around the countryside in it.
He’d said she was a much happier woman out in the country.
Keenan had showed me how it worked years ago, but I’d never wanted to drive it before. Somethin’ in the center of my chest hurt when I thought about ridin’ in it without Da. What Maeve had told me a couple of days ago weighed heavily on mind, though.
How I should be honorin’ my parents by livin’. All I’d done since I’d been exhumed from that small hole was live as a ghost. I was with them, but my mind and limbs worked in this reality. If I’d been disrespectin’ them all this time, I refused to do it any longer. They deserved peace. I’d give it to them by tastin’ all my breathsandby avengin’ their deaths.
The motor cranked over as soon as the key turned. I slowly backed out of the garage and took it for a spin, gettin’ used to how it handled. It was a bit odd sittin’ in my Da’s seat and handlin’ his wheels, but the longer I drove around, I started to feel more comfortable.
His throne was becomin’ mine.
Keenan stood on the side of the road when I pulled back into the castle’s drive. Right about where the old witch woman had cast the curse. His arms were crossed, and he had a pinched look on his face. I could read Keenan as well as he could read me. Nothin’ was wrong at the castle, but he had somethin’ on his mind.
I stopped, and he used the overhead bar to lift himself in and take a seat. When I pulled off, his head rammed the back of the headrest, and he gave me a dirty look as he placed a hand over his cap. I figured I’d practice my smile on him because he looked funny when his head bumped.
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m grimacin’ too at the way yer handlin’ her, lad. She’s not to be abused. Treat her like a beautiful mistress.”
