Page 169 of Godless Saints

Cillian’s forehead dropped to mine for a second, breath warm. “Good.” His voice was rough. “Shake your head if you want me to stop. Aye?”

I nodded, heart hammering.

Cillian leaned down and licked a slow stripe over my hole. I made a garbled sound around the gag, head falling back against the pillow. Fuck. He had never done that before. His tongue pushed inside me—wet, filthy.

My eyes rolled back. A broken, muffled moan tore out of me. Embarrassment slammed through me so hard my face burned. No one had ever—

I strained against the belt around my wrists, twisting hard. It didn’t give. My thighs shook. My cock leaked against my stomach.

I wanted to hide. I wanted more. Only when I was shaking did he pull back.

Cillian reached for the lube on the nightstand, poured it over my hole, and pushed two thick fingers inside, spreading it deep. My back arched hard off the bed.

Cillian peppered slow, open-mouthed kisses up my stomach, across my chest, while his fingers kept working me open.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, knowing exactly how much I hated that word.

I tried to kick him again. Cillian caught my thighs and shoved them out wide, pinning me open with bruising strength. A helpless whine escaped around the gag.

He kept kissing me, reverent presses along my ribs, my collarbone, the underside of my jaw. “So fucking beautiful.” Kiss. “Strong.” Kiss. “Brilliant.” Kiss. “Mine.”

He pulled his fingers out. Then he was pushing inside me, but he went agonizingly slow, just like he always did, letting me feel every inch, forcing me to take him.

“Beautiful. Perfect. The only thing I’ve ever wanted this badly.”

I was still tied and gagged, completely at his mercy. My cock leaked against my stomach with every slow thrust. Pleasure and need twisted so tight I couldn’t breathe.

Cillian’s pace stayed devastatingly slow, hips rolling deep. One hand braced beside my head. The other clamped around my throat, then slid down and wrapped around my cock, stroking once, rough.

“You’re mine, Moon. Every fucking piece of you. No more giving pieces away. No more leaving. Just you and me. I need you to remember that.” His hand kept stroking, matching every deep thrust.

I tried to speak around the gag. Tried to tell him how good it felt. How close I was. Only muffled, desperate sounds came out. My hips jerked helplessly.

Cillian squeezed harder, thumb dragging over the head. “Fuck. Just keep squeezing me, baby. Just like that. Take every fucking inch.”

I was shaking. So close it hurt. My cock throbbed in his fist.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come on my cock. Show me who you belong to.”

The tension snapped. I came hard, shaking apart around him, spilling over his fist and my stomach. Cillian followed right after, burying himself deep with a wrecked groan, hips stuttering as he filled me.

Cillian stayed buried deep inside me, chest pressed to mine, breathing hard. He reached up and pulled the tie from my mouth.

I sucked in a breath. “I’ve told you a million times. Don’t call me beautiful. You want me walking around telling people you’re beautiful?”

“Aww, Moonshine.” Cillian’s grin was soft, almost boyish. “You think I’m beautiful?” He stroked his thumb along my jaw, careful now.

He loosened the belt from the bedpost, freeing my wrists. The second my hands were free, I swung at him. He caught my wrist easily, then pulled me into his chest.

I grabbed the back of his hair with my other hand and yanked him down into a hard kiss. We broke apart just long enough for me to breathe.

“You’re beautiful, Cillian.”

He kissed me again, slower this time. I pulled back just enough to speak against his mouth. “But you belong on some Irish island far away from civilization.”

“Awh, thanks.” He huffed a laugh against my lips, then pulled back. The amusement faded. His expression turned serious.

I focused on him, concern cutting through the haze. “What’s going on, Cillian?”