Page 64 of Godless Saints

Cillian’s mouth brushed my ear. “Only when she wants everyone watching.”

“And you let her touch you.” His hand tightened on my wrist.

“Moonshine.”

“No.” I snarled. “You smell like her fucking perfume. Get your hands off me.”

Cillian’s forehead dropped against the back of my hood.

His laugh came out rough. Almost wrecked.

“Fuck.”

My pulse hit hard.

“Stop.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You are.”

“No.” His breath brushed my ear. “But you can parade around with Zara King for fucking optics, and I’m supposed to just take it?”

He rolled his hips once, pressing harder against me.

“I don’t have anyone for optics, prince. I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always fucking you.”

Heat slammed low.

Brutal.

Humiliating.

I spun and shoved Cillian against the tree. Bark scraped his shoulder. Surprise flashed across his face at my strength.

My fist twisted in his damp shirt. I yanked him down. Mouths crashed. I bit his lower lip until blood hit my tongue.

“Touch me,” I hissed against his mouth, voice cracking.

Cillian groaned. His hand shoved under my waistband, rough fingers wrapping around my cock in that perfect calloused grip.

“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead pressed to mine. “What the hell got into you? If I knew jealousy worked this well, I’d have found a girlfriend sooner.”

I rocked into his fist, thighs trembling. Cold air. Rough bark. His burning palm. Too much. Not enough.

“Forget those girls.” The word broke. “Fuck, let’s go somewhere else. I… Can you—”

Why the fuck was this so hard to say? Three weeks of his mouth on my cock. Three weeks of stopping just short of the one thing I still refused to give him. I still wore his ring. I still came back.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Cillian made a low, guttural sound, half groan, half curse, his whole body shuddering against mine. “Say that again,” he growled against my ear, “and I’ll show you exactly why that Zara bullshit was never fucking competition.”

Cillian spun me, slammed my chest against rough bark. His fingers slid lower, slick with spit, pressing against my hole. The stretch burned. My breath hitched. Thighs shook harder as one thick finger pushed inside me.

“Fuck,” I hissed, fingers digging into the bark. My own cock throbbed painfully against the tree, leaking steadily, making a mess of my sweats. I hated how good it felt. Hated more that I had asked for it. He added a second finger, pushing back inside me with wet, filthy sounds. The stretch burned sharper from this angle. My thighs shook. My hole clenched around his fingers.

“So fucking tight,” Cillian groaned behind me. “Fuck, Moon. You’re fighting me and taking me at the same time.”