Page 65 of Godless Saints

He scissored his fingers deeper, curling hard against that spot that made white flash behind my eyes. I bit my lip until it bled, hips pushing back onto his hand. My body clenched around his fingers involuntarily. Cillian felt it. His hips jerked once against me, cock leaking against my ass.

“Slow,” I snapped. “Feels too fucking good. I’m gonna come like this.”

Cillian slowed instantly, but he didn’t stop. His fingers moved deeper, slower, curling deliberately against that spot inside me. The pleasure sharpened, rolling through me in heavy, overwhelming waves.

I was losing myself. Head dropped forward against the bark as another broken sound slipped out. I was supposed to be in control. Supposed to be better than this desperate, trembling mess.

His hips rolled again, grinding his thick cock between my cheeks. Teeth scraped my neck, then bit down hard enough to make me gasp.

“Fuck, Moonshine,” he rasped against my neck, voice wrecked and desperate. “You’re mine. I need to fuck you. I need this so fucking badly.”

I tensed, thighs shaking harder. The thought of him inside me, really inside me, sent a sharp spike of want and fear through my chest. God, I wanted it. But the idea of being that open, that exposed, that taken by him made something inside me recoil. If I gave him that kind of power once... would I ever want it back?

Cillian felt it immediately. He pressed a slow, hot kiss to the side of my neck, lips lingering, almost gentle, then pulled his two fingers out of me slowly, leaving me clenching around nothing.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby,” he murmured against my skin. “I’ve got you.” His free hand reached for his phone, thumb flying across the screen. The other stayed on my ass, squeezing hard, spreading me open while his thick cock dragged between my cheeks.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Texting Misha,” he rasped. “Clearing the back stairs to my room. I’m sneaking you into Thorn.”

My gut knotted hard. “To Thorn?” The words came out sharper than I meant. “Are you insane?”

“Yes.” His cock dragged against me again, teasing my entrance. “But I’m not letting you walk away now, love. Not after you finally begged me to fuck you because some girl put her hands on me.”

I tried to shove him off. Weakly. My body betrayed me, pushing back against his cock instead.

Cillian groaned. “Fuck, Moon… keep doing that and I won’t be able to stop myself.” He finished the text, shoved the phone away, then stepped back just enough to let me turn.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I fixed my clothes. I yanked my sweats up, the fabric torturing my aching, leaking cock. Cillian’s shirt hung open, blood and rain streaking his chest like war paint. He didn’t bother buttoning it. We moved fast, breathing ragged.

He reached out his hand. I pressed closer, saying nothing. Then I took it. His fingers locked around mine, warm and unrelenting, thumb brushing once over my knuckles like a silent claim.

I was walking into Thorn Court with Cillian’s blood still on my mouth and his fingerprints under my clothes. I should have turned back. I tightened my hand around his instead.

CHAPTER 16

MOON

I was inside Thorn Court. Approaching Briar House. Ah, fuck. My ribs slammed once. What if someone saw us? The Gallery was still buzzing. Thanks to Zara, most now believed we were bickering over the Blood Writ.

Either way, I had chosen this. Walked willingly into enemy territory like some lovesick fool. If someone saw us now, I had no explanation. Especially not the hand holding. But I didn’t want to let go. God, I was becoming exactly the kind of idiot I used to judge.

Gothic stone crouched against the Scottish rain. Gargoyles snarled along the roofline. I never came here. No one with a functioning sense of self-preservation did. Yet here I was.

Can’t believe I asked him to fuck me. He was so fucking normal about it. That pissed me off more than anything. I was a wreck, overthinking everything, while he paraded through life unbothered. Meanwhile I was arguing with myself twenty-four hours a day.

I glared up at the gargoyles. Fitting. Very Thorn.

Cillian looked over his shoulder, pulling me closer. “You good?”

“Don't ask me that while you’re sneaking me into a den of criminals,” I hissed.

His mouth curved into that half-feral smile that always made my insides scream. “We’re not just criminals, prince.”

“Criminal adjacent, then.”

“Call us whatever you want.” His grip tightened. “You still came with me.”