Page 80 of Cillian

I felt like I had more of a voice now, even if it were just asking things of him. My own mother hadn't mastered that with my father, so in that instance, my parents had done me a favor. Pulling him into a kiss, he readjusted, hooking his muscular thigh between mine, just so we could be closer.

“Did you have a part that stood out to you tonight?” I reached for his hand to entwine our fingers, but it really ended up being him toying with my fingers, reveling in their size difference.

“I like when you talk to me. When you say specific things, and not just the…” He went onto mimic my moaning, teasing me with his feminine cries of ‘ohhs’ and ‘ahhs.’

“I know the dark stuff ain’t what good girls like you are used to. In fact, I’d understand if after trying it, you learned you didn't enjoy it. But frankly speaking, nothing convinces me more that you fancy acts than when you talk to me.”

Cillian always felt full of surprises but of all the things he could say, that definitely surprised me. Him desiring me to take the lead surprised me. And for a moment that should have left me the exposed one, I was the one getting the truest glimpse of who he was. At this point, there wasn’t a part of him I didn’t love to pieces.

“You still sore?” he asked, rubbing my shoulders. When I nodded, he convinced me he had just the thing for that, as he got up and disappeared, returning with baby oil.

“Turn around. On your stomach,” he said, countering my look of skepticism with a laugh and gentle smile. “No funny business. I just want to mellow you out a bit. It might help you sleep better.” He convinced me, as we rustled around until I was on my stomach and the squirt of the oil slowly slid down the small of my back.

Cillian had such strong hands. He anticipated my need for comfort and took no issue providing me indulgences that only pleased or served me. Kneading all my tired muscles from our previous acts, it wasn’t long before I was a puddle of calm and loose limbs.

“You like that, baby?”

“Mmmhmm,” I murmured, lazily.

“Good.” His magic digits working their way down to my calves as the urge hit to snatch my feet away when he reached the bottom of my soles.

“You always do that when I touch your feet,” he hummed a laugh.

“I guess I don't know what you like about them.”

“The only reason there has to be is that they’re yours. But I reckon men like feet more than women fancy them on men. Probably because you take better care of them,” he admitted with a tickle to my sole, contrasting and comparing his big pale foot to mine. He pulled me in close as we gained a rhythm of kissing again. Softer this time, lazy and sweet.

“Mmm.”

“You tired?” He asked, sleepy, as I pressed my lips into a line, not knowing where the current boldness came.

“Do you have any of those brownies?”

“Are you sure?” His eyes lit up when I nodded and he practically leaped off the cot to retrieve the tin he had them kept in. I didn't know how they were going to make me feel but I was in a chocolate mood, so I enthusiastically accepted when he handed me a napkin filled with one of the treats.

“Don't rush it, baby,” he said with a full mouth. “Give them a few minutes to work its effect on you.”

At first, I didn't feel any different, but I could feel Cillian’s fingers drawing light circles on my shoulders enjoying the gentle quiet. And then suddenly, I became hyper aware of the circles he was drawing on my skin, but instead of circles, it felt more like the alphabet searing into my back. Turning to face him, he embraced me, and I kissed him to see how different it’d feel to feel his lips on mine under the influence.

“Mmm,” I moaned into his lips, as he unwillingly pulled away from me to retrieve the lube and condoms. When he returned, I was relieved of how unnerved I was. I wasn't scared or nervous, and I trusted him completely with everything.

“I messed up your hair a little,” he said smiling, caressing the back of my neck.

“It's okay, we'll fix it later,” I replied, leaning in to feel his lips again, and with a round of tussling and fondling, he reached over to grab the lube. Guiding me on my stomach, Cillian squirted a generous amount on his fingers, massaging my hole with tenderness and care and opting to double stimulate me by working my pussy with his other hand.

He kissed me there, switching between licking and teasing until I relaxed my muscles. He continued to taste me, the firm swigs of his tongue feeling sinfully delicious as he played with my ass. It felt so good this time, so, so damn good. It was naughty and it was salacious, I didn’t want him to stop.

When he worked on the condom, he saturated his length, doing the same to my hole as he stretched my thighs wide apart to carefully enter me.

He inched in slower than last time, and I was amazed at how much easier it had been to take him being more relaxed. He rested my feet on his thighs, slowly thrusting and catching glances at me to ensure he wasn’t hurting me. He ground his teeth against every inch he worked inside me, his hips bucking at the feel of my stretching hole accepting him.

“You're so fucking beautiful baby,” he gasped, as I reached into rub my clit pleased with how it added to the fullness, a contrast of pain and pleasure.

“You look so fucking sexy playing with yourself,” he whispered. “Jesus Christ, I'm about to come.” Cillian’s torso flexed as he pulled the back of my legs to his chest and shoulders, biting the skin of my calves and ankles and let himself go. His moans were so sensual. A complete reflection of a hard man gone vulnerable. Before he lost his erection he helped me rub my sweet spot, just so I could orgasm with the pleasure of him still being inside me.

A crashing climax enveloped my entire body with pleasure, the tiny shattered pieces of me slowly coming back together. Cillian withdrew from me, disposing of the rubber and returning back to the cot with a modest comforter with his eyes looking more precious than a puppy.

“There ain't never gonna be another woman for me, Queenie. I don't know what our future holds, but I don’t want to imagine one day without you in it. Tá mo chroí istigh ionat.” His last words in a foreign tongue.

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