Page 50 of Sweet Vengeance
I do know that. There’s no doubt in my mind. “That’s not… I want…”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
“I want to do it again,” I admit, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Fuck, you’re so damned hot. I don’t think I can get it up again so soon.”
“That’s fine. I just…” God, what is wrong with me? Why am I even thinking about this? Why am I considering saying it? But this is Cillian, and I know that no matter what, I’m safe with him. And hadn’t I just been thinking about how free being with him makes me? How I want to explore these desires with him? How being close to him comforts me when my life feels like it’s falling apart? “I just want to put it in my mouth…to suck on you. To be between your legs.”
He doesn’t reply right away, but I feel his gaze on me, can see the shadows of him from the light outside the window.
“That’s going to be comfortable for you? With your injuries?”
“I think so.”
Cillian throws the blanket off both of us and to the floor. “Well, come on, then. You think I’m gonna say no to that? You can sleep between my legs every fucking night until this is over if you want. I like that you want to worship me.”
“I’m not! It’s not… Fuck you!”
Cillian laughs. “I’m corrupting you, and I fucking love it. That’s two fucks tonight.” He touches my arm. “Come on.Take what you need from me.”
The wording makes me flush with heat, but not in the way it should, not in the way that makes me think this is wrong, instead in a way that feels all too right.
I climb down between his legs, but he’s right. The bed is too short, and I’m cramped up.
“Hold on.” Cillian turns the light on, then pushes himself into a sitting position, the pillows against the wall, him with his back against it. “There. You have more room now.”
“You can’t sleep sitting up.”
“Are you fucking kidding? You want to sleep with your face in my balls. This is the best fucking night of my life.”
I roll my eyes but have to bite back my smile. I’ve never been wanted the way Cillian wants me.
I scootch up higher now that he’s given us more room, and it’s much more comfortable. I let my head rest on his thigh, smell him again, Cillian’s scent now mixed with his release. I take his soft cock into my mouth and just…suck on it a little. Hold it there, savor the feel of it on my tongue.
I wait for Cillian to make fun of me, but he doesn’t, instead running his fingers through my hair and saying softly, “You’re fucking with my head,” then turns out the light.
I don’t ask questions, don’t ask what he means. I know because he’s messing with my head too.
He keeps playing with my hair, and I suck him, sometimes just hold him in my mouth until I’ve almost drifted asleep, but even when I can’t taste him anymore, I don’t move, staying right there between his legs, head on his thigh and feeling more at home than I ever have.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cillian
When I wakeup in the morning, Ollie isn’t in bed with me. The bathroom door is closed, so I figure he’s in there. Last night was fuckingintense. I’ve had a lot of sex and started having it at a young age, but I’ve never experienced anything like what I shared with him. It was like…fuck. Like Ollie was showing me a part of himself no one had ever seen—hell, maybe that Ollie hadn’t even known was there. Yet something about me drew it out of him.
I’ve spent most of my life feeling powerful, but nothing has given me as much as watching the way he worshipped me, the way he craved me, the way he wanted to be between my legs to sleep with me.
Because I bring him comfort? I’m not sure anyone has ever thought that about me. Some might argue their case about Tiernan, Rory, and Aislin, but that’s different. They’re from my world, which, right or wrong, changes things in my head. Not that I think Ollie needs me. He’s stronger than he probably knows. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have run toward those men that night. But he wants me in a way I’m unfamiliar with. Not because of my name, or who my father or cousin is, but because ofme.
The door to the bathroom opens, and Ollie steps out.He’s already dressed, his hair wet from a shower, so clearly, he’s been up for a while.
He spots me naked on the bed, blushes, then his gaze darts away. “Can you like…cover up or something?” He waves his hand at me, and I laugh.
“Why? You saw all of me last night.” I don’t call him on the cock-warming thing because I don’t want him to feel insecure about that. I fucking loved it.
“That was different.” He lifts his arm, almost knocks his glasses off, then runs a hand through his wet hair, looking frazzled. It’s cute, but also not what I want for him. I want him to have loved what we did as much as me.
