Page 44 of Kilted Sins

That morning, however, as she was taking her daily walk around the castle grounds, she passed by the forge and was surprised to find Cillian there, working alongside the blacksmith. For a moment, Enya paused her walk, watching him as he hammered a blade, bare-chested and sweating over the fire. His skin glistened with it, muscles bulging in his chest and arms with every movement, and Enya was mesmerized by it.

She didn’t realize she had been staring until Cillian noticed her, turning to wave at her with a smile. Even in the chill of the morning, her entire face heated uncomfortably when she was caught, and she was about to flee the scene when he beckoned her closer.

Enya weighed her options. She could either pretend she hadn’t seen him, which would seem very unlikely, and be on her way, or she could surrender to her fate and join him for a few moments.

She decided on the second option as she could stay away no longer.

“Good mornin’,” said Cillian when Enya approached. “Ye werenae there tae break yer fast with us today.”

“Nay,” said Enya shaking her head. “I overslept.”

The truth was that the longer she waited to tell Cillian the truth, the harder it was to face him. Even now, she could hardly meet his gaze and was staring instead at the sword he was making, wondering if he always made all his weapons.

“I didnae ken ye could dae this,” she said.

“I learned when I was young,” said Cillian with a shrug. “I saw our old blacksmith workin’ here when I was a wee laddie an’ I asked him tae teach me.”

Enya could imagine it, a young Cillian. The image brought a small smile to her lips in spite of herself, amusing as it was.

Behind Cillian, the blacksmith bowed to her before putting his tools down and rushing out, presumably to get something he needed. Suddenly, she and Cillian were alone and he wasted no time before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing a heated kiss to her lips.

Guilt bubbled up inside Enya as she allowed the kiss. Guilt, mixed with an inescapable need she could not ignore.

“Come here,” Cillian said as he shifted, guiding Enya to stand in front of him, her back pressed against his chest. Even with the heat of the raging flames right next to them, it was the heat of his body that she felt the most, the solid presence of him right behind her. “Here, hold this.”

As he spoke, Cillian handed her the mallet and then wrapped his hand around hers. The other came to rest on her hip, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

“Hold the handle with yer other hand,” he said and Enya obeyed, steadying the blade. “Now ye hit it like this.”

Slowly, Cillian brought their hands down along with the mallet, showing Enya how to do it. After a few hits, he placed his other hand on her other hip, steadying her as he allowed her to do it on her own a few times.

“Ye’re good at this,” he said. “Maybe I should let ye make me swords.”

“I dinnae think that is a good idea,” Enya said with a soft laugh as she disentangled herself from him, the guilt suddenly becoming too much to bear. Before she could get too far, though, Cillian grabbed her and pulled her close once more, pressing their bodies together.

Enya’s desire was undeniable and inescapable. Even her guilt could do nothing to dampen it, her need for Cillian so strong that even the slightest touch was enough to set her off. Now, in the heat of the forge, after seeing him laboring over the fire with the muscles of his arms and his chest bulging as he moved, his dark hair pushed back and his eyes so focused on his task, she had no choice but to surrender to that need.

The moment she had seen him in there, forging that sword, she had felt a jolt of desire so strong that her core throbbed with it, her heartbeat picking up.

Now, those very same hands that had manipulated the steel were on her, fingers digging into her hips as Cillian pressed his chest against her back, brushing his lips over the side of her neck.

“Where dae ye think ye’re goin’?” he asked in a light, teasing tone, and Enya didn’t know how to tell him that she was trying to flee from him, that she feared what would happen if she stayed.

But stay she did, her lips parting around a moan as Cillian’s hands slid up her torso, cupping her breasts. She arched into the touch, her hips pushing back with the movement to find that Cillian was already hard, his manhood pressing insistently against her rear.

“I want ye,” he whispered to her, his hips rolling once against her. It was a heady feeling and knowing she had such an effect on him only served to intensify her own arousal, wetness gathering between her legs already until she was soaking with need.

“Here?” Enya asked and Cillian chuckled in her ear. She could feel rather than see his nod and when one of his hands moved down her torso to tease her mound over her dress, his fingers caressing her most sensitive spot, she knew she would not refuse.

Besides, there was something intoxicating about letting Cillian bend her over the working bench and pull up her dress, baring her to his gaze in the middle of the forge. Anyone could walk in and see them; she knew that much, and though she hoped they wouldn’t be interrupted, the thrill of it was too good to resist.

“Look at ye,” Cillian said as he then brushed two fingers over her folds, soaking them in her wetness. Enya throbbed at the touch, her body burning with desire, her breath shallow and ragged. She needed Cillian to do something, anything; she couldn’t take the teasing, not when she wanted him so desperately.

“Take me,” she demanded, arching her back and looking at him over her shoulder as she spread her legs a little wider. “Show me how much ye want it.”

That was all Cillian needed to free himself with a groan, quickly lining up his manhood before pushing in to the hilt. As he entered her, they both groaned at the sensation, the slight stretch of the sudden intrusion only adding to Enya’s pleasure.

It was better like this, she thought. She only needed to satiate her lust, to have Cillian bring her to completion once more, to feel that all-encompassing pleasure. Cillian, though, didn’t seem to have the same ideas, as he began to move slowly, barely pulling back before he pushed back inside, careful and considerate.