Cillian pulled back, his white teeth stark against his red skin with the way he grinned. “Miss me already?”
He ran his fingers across the tender skin of my hole, careful with his claws, and a rush of his cum trickled out, some of it trailing down my thigh. A shudder rushed through me, of want, of desire. He smeared it around my hole, his movements surprisingly delicate with the wrecked skin.
“Fuck, I want to cover you in my cum,” he murmured, nipping at my lower lip. “Fill you up with it, spread it all over your skin.”
“Yes,” I rushed out, heat flooding my cheeks. I didn’t care how shameless I sounded—that was what I wanted.
“Another time,” he said. “Right now, let’s get you in the tub.”
I barely had time to blink before he rose off the bed and hoisted me in his arms. He carried me with an ease that reminded me how strong he was, and that sent a torrent of need through me all over again, even though I was depleted and wrecked from the way he’d claimed me. The trickle of his cum from my hole sent another flutter through me.
He strode into an attached bathroom, and I drank in the sight of it—black tiles and a massive clawfoot tub. The polished silver fixtures gleamed in the light, and the room smelled crisp, like lemon and ozone. Cillian set me down beside the tub and turned the taps on. Steam rose from the water that began to fill the tub.
“Get in,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re really not one for niceties, are you?” I arched a brow.
“I’ll use them when I see a point.” He smirked and lifted me off my feet again before lowering my body into the water. The heat surrounded me at once, the scalding water soothing my sore muscles, and a deep sigh escaped me. The tub was the biggest I’d ever seen, more like a hot tub than a bathtub, and big enough to fit us both, which felt like an impossibility.
“Are you getting in?” I asked. I didn’t want to seem needy, but I also wasn’t ready to have him out of sight yet. Besides, he was the one who’d shown up bloodied and beaten. Surely he needed this as much as I did.
“I will,” he said, slipping a towel around his waist. “I’ll be right back. Get comfortable.”
I settled my back against the porcelain and tipped my head up to stare at the glossy black tiles of the ceiling. The pale white grout glared from between each one, a pretty offset thatensnared my attention. Cillian’s footsteps were heavy enough I could hear him thumping around in the other room. The door creaked, and he must’ve headed out into another area of the West Wing. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the thunder of the water pouring from the faucet, and on the hot water caressing my tired and aching body. My hole would be beyond sore tomorrow, and my throat as well.
Still, in this moment, with my whole body relaxed, my world was calm and my mind remained quiet.
And I’d treasure every second of it.
Cillian’s footsteps returned, and he stepped in through the doorway. He’d brought a tray of fruit as well as a few bottles of water, and my heart skipped a beat. I never would’ve expected this level of attentiveness from the man who’d gained a reputation for his harshness, who’d been cold and callous when I’d first arrived. Who’d also ravaged me until I was incoherent. The hot water stung around the scratches on my thighs, and the bite on my shoulder ached, but I savored those marks as reminders.
“Are you just going to hover around the tub or get in?” I asked, pushing up from where I lay back.
Cillian shook his head and placed the plate and water by the side of the tub. “That mouth.”
“And you haven’t even felt it yet,” I challenged, my gaze traveling to his thick cock that hung limp between his thighs. Gods, how had I managed to fit all of that inside me? And already I could imagine taking it again and again.
Cillian gripped my chin and tilted it up. He pressed his lips to mine again in a claiming kiss, and I melted in his grasp.
When he let go, he climbed into the other side of the tub and turned off the stream from the faucet. Water sloshed, some over the sides, and his legs tangled with mine. The touch comforted me at once.
“Come here,” he said. “Onto my lap.”
As much as I was tempted to retort back, I wanted that too badly. I pushed up from my spot, which took far too much effort with how taxed my muscles were, and settled between Cillian’s thighs. How I’d gone from overwhelmed by his presence to somehow comforted by it mystified me, but the shift had been drastic and transformative. Cillian wrapped an arm around my chest, drawing me back to rest against his, and my eyes fluttered shut.
The heat from the water didn’t settle me as much as the heavy weight of his body, the firmness of his muscles. He made me feel protected, which was something I’d craved for longer than I could remember.
“Why me?” I asked the question that had been burning in my brain. “You mentioned not having an outlet with anyone, but you’re stunning, powerful. You could have whoever you want.”
Cillian reached to the side of the tub and grabbed one of the bottles of water and passed it to me. I took it and drank, grateful for the coolness against my parched and wrecked throat.
“What about me says inviting?” The rumble of his voice vibrated against my back. “I’m not a fan of letting people in.”
“And yet here we are,” I responded, closing my eyes again, as if that might allow him to open up further. Each hint I got of Cillian, each little scrap of the person behind his persona, had me craving more.
“I used to date,” he offered. “Once upon a time.”
“What happened?” I asked, trying not to hint at how badly I longed to know. Had it been Olivia? Had she soured him to relationships?
