His throat dips.
“Choose me back, Cathal.”
His pupils dilate.
“Chooseus.”
His lids snap closed. When they reel open, gone is his shifty gaze. Gone is the anxious male. He palms my ass and lifts me. And then he kisses me. And oh, Mahananda, how I’ve missed his lips. My legs snap around his waist as he carries me down the wide hallway, moving with such determination, the wicks on every candle bow in his wake.
He sets me down on my mattress, then gets rid of his armor, boots, pants, shirt. Cathal Báeinach may feel ancient, but his body is that of a man in his prime—chiseled and padded to delectable perfection.
The sight of him unclothed floods my core. I begin to reach for my underwear when he drops onto his knees in front of me, cinches my thighs, and drags me to the edge of the bed. And then he’s hooking my legs over his broad shoulders and pressing his face against the scrap of silk. After licking and kissing around the soaking fabric, he tugs it aside and flattens his tongue against me. I rattle with such violence that it must shake my sunstone land.
Cathal suddenly spears one finger into me, all the while twirling his tongue over the little magical bead. My climax gushes out of me, literallygushes, splashing Cathal’s nose and mouth. I jerk onto my forearms and stare in shock and horror as he sits back on his heels. I expect a grimace to reshape his face, but I’m met with a smirk.
“What was that?” I ask.
“That, mo Sífair, was a sign that your body really enjoyed what I was doing to it.” He wipes his face on his forearm. “Fuck, that was hot.”
“It scalded you?”
He chuckles. “No. Not that sort of hot.” He gets back to his feet, then bends over me and hovers his mouth over mine. “Can I kiss you or would you prefer I go wash off?”
“I don’t know.”
He touches his lips tentatively to mine. When I don’t pick up on any unpleasant smell, I slant my mouth to deepen the kiss. He reaches between my legs for my underwear and snaps it off with a hard tug, and then he’s pulling back, lifting my legs, and positioning his cock at my entrance.
“Ready?” he murmurs, solemn again.
“Yes, Cathal.”
His chest lifts with a deep breath as he uses one hand to guide himself inside of me. He goes slow, hunting my face for any sign of pain.
There’s none.
When he stretches me, it’s all pleasure and I start to rattle. He gapes at my vibrating body, the tension receding from his face because he knows what it means.
He sighs as he pulls back and thrusts into me anew. But then his sigh turns into labored pants, and he curses a blue streak. “Fucking underworld, woman, if you don’t get that rattling under control, I will blow.”
It’s cute that he thinks I have any control over my body’s physiological reaction to his. My stomach tightens like a fist and pools heat into my core. I think I’m about to release another burst of wetness and worry it will carry him out. I try to warn him but end up gasping from the intensity.
His fingers clench like his jaw as he rocks his hips back, then slams into my drenched core with a feral growl. With a groan, his head falls back and he paints my quivering center with ribbons of heat.
My throat bobs and my heart catches as I watch him. How could he doubt for a second that I’d look anywhere but at him?
Even my core is pulsating with love, hugging his softening shaft, which snaps his neck straight and makes his eyes bore into mine.
I don’t dare hope that this is anything more than a spasm. Until it happens again. Not so much a twitch as a tightening. A gripping.
“Cathal?” I whisper.
Daya,he whispers back. Except…
Except his lips don’t part, only bend, while mine…they tremble. He hinges forward as my core swells around him and clinches so tight I worry it must hurt.
Nothing has ever felt so extraordinary.He scrapes his lips over mine, tracing their quivering contour before filling them in with a kiss that trickles down to my very soul.
As he sweeps away the salt of my tears, I murmur through our mind link,I love you, my Crow.
