Maeve
Ignify (v) to form into fire
“God, is she trying to kill us before we even get there?” I blurt loudly enough for everyone to hear us. Callum laughs, and Ronan shouts, “Damn straight!” Saoirse rolls her eyes. She looks at me through the rearview mirror, and I can see I hit a nerve. I raise my eyebrow, waiting to see if she will say anything to me, or if she respects me as much as she does the guys. Well, most of the guys. The jury is still out on Ronan.
“Well, if thispleidhce amadáin, would close hisgob, then I wouldn’t feel the need to drive us off a God-forsaken cliff,” Saoirse shoots back, making me giggle. I think we’re going to be friends.
Saoirse pulls into the lot at the train station, and we only have moments to spare. Once we are loaded onto the train, I make my way to the ladies' room to spruce up. I splash water on my face, run a brush through my hair, and apply some lip gloss. When I open the door, Callum is standing there. He looms over me, with one arm propped on the side of the frame. My heart skips a beat, and I feel the heat flushing across my face.
“Well, hello there,” I say casually, trying to steady my breath.
“Hi,” he says, his voice low as he gazes down at me with a smirk. I immediately feel heat pooling in my core. He steps forward and placesa hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me back into the bathroom. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he says, closing the door behind him, shutting us inside the tiny space. His mouth is so close now. I can feel his breath caress my lips as we lock eyes.
He turns me around to face the mirror. The smirk on his face is casual, but the gleam in his icy blue eyes is feral, hungry. He leans down and traces the edge of my ear with his tongue, never breaking our eye contact in the mirror.
“I want you to see what you do to me, Maeve. I want to watch you unravel.” I swallow, and any reply I might have made catches in my throat as he slides his hand into the front of my pants. “Hands on the counter. Don’t move until I tell you,” he whispers.
“Yes, sir,” I pant, and suddenly I feel his finger flick over my already throbbing clit.
“Mmmmm, good girl,” he says, his voice low. Then, he slides my pants down, pulling one leg out, pulling my shirt over my head, unclasping my bra, and letting it fall to the sink in front of me. He pauses to run his finger across my scar, leaving goose bumps behind. He seems lost in thought as he traces the sword, until he taps my foot lightly with his, silently ordering me to spread my legs. I oblige without contest, and his hands start to massage my bare ass. His eyes follow every inch of skin his fingers touch, then they find mine in the mirror before he lowers himself behind me.
His finger runs slowly from my tailbone, over my asshole, before sliding through the wetness pooling at my center. He groans as he slips a finger in.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he whispers as he slides another finger in, and I moan as I begin to rock my hips against his hand. Suddenly, he removes his fingers, and before I have time to react, I feel his mouth there, his tongue. His palms wrap around my thighs, gripping them tightly. I see his tattooed fingers flexing as he pulls me closer to his mouth. I reach back, wanting to grip something, anything, but he pulls away.
“Hands on the counter, Maeve,” he commands gruffly. I swallow hard and obey. “Good girl,” he whispers just before his mouth is back on me with so much force my body juts forward. I catch a glimpse of my reflection as Callum slides his tongue into my folds. Mouth parted, cheeks red, eyes hooded, hair mussed, legs parted. I’m unraveling. When he begins to tease my clit with his fingers, my knees wobble beneath me, and I feel his other hand grip my thigh tighter. Suddenly, he hooks two fingers inside me, finding that perfect pressure point as his thumb and pinky work my clit. My control snaps, and the moan that finally escapes me sounds animalistic. My knuckles turn white as I grip the counter harder, and my breath becomes uneven and choppy.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispers hoarsely, and I’m done for. Stars fill my vision, and my body trembles and shakes through the orgasm. But Callum doesn’t stop. No, he continues to devour me through it, leaving nothing behind.
Finally, his tongue slows, leaving me with one last, slow lick trailing back in the direction his fingers started. Only he doesn’t stop his trail when he makes it to the base of my spine. He continues trailing kisses up my back, his hands grazing my sides as he moves my hair over my shoulder.
Each kiss is deliberate as he slowly moves from the base of my scar all the way to the top, not an inch of it unmarked by his lips. As soonas he reaches my shoulder, I tilt my head, giving him full access to my neck. Small moans escape through my ragged breaths as his hands palm both of my breasts. He rolls my nipples between his finger and thumb, sending waves of electricity straight to my core.He kisses the tattoo behind my ear and groans.
“Look at me,” he commands. I open my eyes and stare at his reflection, right into those deep blue pools that I’d willingly drown in. I can feel his cock straining against his pants as he presses it into my back. I begin to lift my hand from the counter, but he shakes his headnoin silent command, tsking in my ear.
“Remember what I said?” he asks as he unbuttons his pants, holding my gaze in the mirror. “I said leave your hands on the counter.” And suddenly, I feel him enter me, and he begins to pump slowly, agonizingly. His hands slide down to my hips, and he pulls me back into him rhythmically, making each thrust deeper.
“This is what you do to me without even touching me,” he pants, his eyes hooded with desire.
“Please, Cal,” I beg, my breathing heavy with desire. I try to force a faster, harder pace by grinding my hips back into him, but he’s much stronger than I am. He grips my hips tightly, keeping control of the pace, keeping it slow. But the heat in his eyes flares so bright I think I might catch fire myself. He bends me at the waist so that my breasts are pressed against the counter, and he rocks into me hard and deep with a primal groan.
“You make me crazy, baby,” he rasps into my ear. “I don’t know if I can be gentle.”
I find his gaze in the mirror once more. “Then don’t be gentle,” I pant, and I swear his eyes dilate the moment the words leave my mouth. Wasting no time, he slides into me again, but not as fast as I was expecting. No, this is a slow, steady stretching without pausing, and he doesn’t stop until he has himself buried so deeply inside me that his muscles contract so intensely that he shudders. He pulls my hips back, deepening the contact, and I bite my lip so hard I taste blood. Suddenly, he hooks his hands under my arms so his palms are splayed over my shoulders, allowing him to pull me down further. I can’t take it. My eyes roll back as my muscles clench, and a ragged moan tears from my chest. This seems to undo him, too. He grunts with every thrust, his pace becoming faster, harder.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispers as his pace picks up, causing me to stand on my tiptoes. He slams into me harder, harder. One of my hands reaches up, but he doesn’t stop me this time, and I grab a fistful of his hair. Right as I begin to ascend, everything seems to slow down, like the universe wants me to remember every millisecond of this.
Thrust.
Eyes locked.
Thrust.
Breathing syncing.
Thrust.
Heartbeats matching.
