“It didn’t hurt.”
“It was too red for my liking.” He scrubs a hand across his jaw. “If you prefer me with a beard, I’ll let it grow out again.”
“You look handsome with it and without it. I’ve no preference.” When my thumb grazes his engorged tip, it comes away damp.
Cathal’s breath catches. “Actually. Change of plans, my Sweet Serpent,” he says in rapid-fire Crow, shackling my wrist and tugging it away.
I quirk a brow. “Why? Was I doing it wrong?”
“Daya, you could jab your fingernail into my cock, and I’d still come. You could never do anything wrong.”
“Then why are you pushing me away?”
“Because I want to last once I get inside of you.” He sucks on his fingers and then reaches between my legs and slicks his saliva over me.
I don’t know why he feels the need to dampen me considering how wet my core already is, but I don’t ask, getting lost in the sensation he kindles. My heart begins to palpitate as eagerly as the rest of my body, which leads me to climax against his skilled fingers in no time.
“To think I’m going to get to do this every single fucking day of my life,” he murmurs around a pleased smile.
As my body settles around the lazy strokes he now draws up and down my folds, he explains that it might hurt when he gets inside me, if the Mahananda revirginized me. At my quirked brow, he clarifies what that means. I suddenly hope that the Mahananda did revirginize me, so that it doesn’t feel like a recycled body to Cathal.
I smooth a black curl off his forehead. And then I scoot closer, still on my side, and seal my mouth against his. His lips part mine, and then his tongue surges in and caresses. For a moment, his hand stops moving over me and he loses himself in our kiss, but then he begins to caress again, targeting that hole he plans on stretching.
When he dips his finger inside, my body gives an involuntary jerk that makes me click my teeth around his tongue, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make me break the kiss and swing my gaze down our bodies to check that it was his hand and not his cock. And yes…it’s his hand.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, worry scoring his features.
“No. Do it again.”
His finger glides back in, a little farther this time. When I grit my teeth and clench around him, he sighs.
“What? Are you afraid my body won’t fit yours?”
A corner of his mouth tugs up. “No.”
“Then why did you sigh?”
“Because I’m worried that our first time will be uncomfortable for you.”
Relief floods me and I expel an almost violent breath. One that turns a little choppy when Cathal starts strumming my clitoris, all the while spearing me with his finger, going deeper with every flick of his wrist.
Predictably, I start to rattle. There isnopain. At least, none I can feel over the pleasure coursing through my veins, propelling heat low in my belly. Though the male doesn’t paint me with any sigils, I burn and shake. I seize his shoulder that pops with muscle and hold on as he thrusts and teases.
The pleasure that streaks through me is brighter, rougher, headier. It wrenches a scream from my lungs, one that’s so shrill, I worry it’ll fissure the ceiling tiles. I flop onto my back and just lay there, attempting to catch my breath as Cathal carries his hand to his face.
I think he’s about to lick my juices off like he did last night, but instead he just studies his fingers. “What?” When I notice a smear of black on his middle finger, I prop myself onto my forearm, almost toppling against him. “Where did that blood come from?” I frown, sweeping the covers fully off myself, because?—
“When a woman’s hymen tears, she bleeds.” Twin spots of red bloom over his cheekbones. “Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never deflowered a virgin.”
I’m inordinately glad to learn that this is going to be a first for him like it is for me. He wipes his finger down his muscled thigh, smearing my watery blood against the skin I once healed,which still bears a puckered scar, and then he flops onto his back. “Climb on top of me. I want you in control.”
I kneel, wrinkling my nose at the gray mess on my pristine sheets, then carefully swing one leg over him, keeping my hips high. The head of his cock is puffed and shiny, pointed upward, in the direction it wants to go.
He braces his large, callused palms under my backside. “When you’re ready, just guide me in.”
His chest grows still when I curl my fingers around the veined flesh and brush him across my folds, moistening him some more. And then I hold him at my entrance and lock my stare with his. Cathal’s eyes are dark with anticipation yet bright with an emotion that weaves itself around my ribs and swathes my heart.
“I love you,” he says suddenly. Though he doesn’t add, “Whatever happens next,” I hear the words. Or maybe I make them up. Perhaps I’m the only one inherently worried about what’s about to happen…ornothappen.
