Page 235 of The Call of Crimson
“Cillian, please,” I gasp as tears prick in my eyes. “It’s too much.”
“No,” he snarls, leaning down and biting the space where my neck meets my shoulder.
Something wet trickles down my throat, and I realize he’s broken skin. My blood runs down my neck, pooling on the pillow beneath me. Cillian runs his tongue along my throat, collecting every drop of blood on his tongue before taking my mouth in another bruising kiss.
The coppery taste mixed with his kiss sets my nerve endings aflame. A feral energy stirs inside me, driving me to bite down on his lip. I bite hard, eliciting a moan from him, until I taste the tang of his blood on my tongue.
“Vicious little thing,” he mumbles against my mouth before flipping me onto my stomach. He does it with such ease, like turning his pillow over to the cold side.
His thrusts resume, the new angle even more delicious, leaving me gasping for breath.
Just as I feel myself relaxing, he circles his finger around my puckered hole. Warning bells sound in my head as we enter unknown territory.
“Cillian, what?—”
“Shhh, Ophelia,” he says right before slipping his finger inside.
I scream again at the burn from the finger inside a place previously untouched.
“This isn’t what I agreed to,” I whimper, trying to crawl away from him.
He pulls me back to him, slamming his finger the rest of the way in.
“This isexactlywhat you agreed to, Ophelia,” he snarls. “But please do keep running from me. I love the chase.”
After several more thrusts of his hips and finger, I find myself actually enjoying the way I stretch and burn for him. The pain only heightens my pleasure, and I start thrusting my hips back to meet his.
He chuckles lowly and asks, “Should I replace this finger with my cock? I absolutely love the way you take me. I think you’d quite enjoy it.”
“Gods no,” I beg. As much as I enjoy this, I can’t imagine taking himthere.
The sharp sting of his palm hitting my ass makes me gasp. “Tell me no one more time, Ophelia. I dare you.”
I keep my mouth shut as he continues thrusting into me, driving me closer and closer to release. My inner walls tremor as I dance closer to ruin.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tightly…” Cillian pants, the sound desperate and tortured. “Come for me, Ophelia.”
And just like that, I explode. But when I expect him to come with me, he continues fucking me, his pace increasing. He pushes me through my orgasm, never relenting.
I cry out, once again trying to pull away from him. My over-sensitized flesh screams at his continued thrusts, and tears flow freely at the overwhelming pleasure that borders on pain.
His hand grips my throat, pulling me up so my back is flush with him as he drives into me. Still caught in the waves of orgasm, I cry out again when his fingers find my clit and begin circling.
I reach for his hand, digging my nails into his flesh. “No more. I can’t take it.”
I’m trembling against him and know that it’s only his strength keeping me upright.
“You can, and you will.” He pinches my clit. “I’m not done until you come around my cock again.”
Without warning, a second orgasm hits me even stronger than the first.
This time, when I scream, it’s his name on my lips. A few thrusts later, he joins me, calling out my name in reverence as he fills me.
We’re both panting, fighting to catch our breath as the world slowly tilts back into focus. Cillian pulls out and disappears for a moment, then returns with a damp washcloth. Gently, he flips me onto my back and runs it up my thighs, wiping away the evidence of our sex. He tosses the cloth aside and unfastens the belt binding my wrists.
His touches are tender, almost worshipful, as he rubs the red marks left on my skin. The soft kisses he places there serve as a beautiful juxtaposition to the brutal way he just took me.
Those kisses continue, slow and unhurried, traveling up my arms, over my shoulders, until they reach my jaw. His fingers trace the forming bruises on my hips, feather-light. He tugs gently at my hair, massaging my scalp.
