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My deepest desire. My filthy little secret I never told anyone.
She looked up at me as her finger pressed against my perineum, and I fucking lost it. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as she rubbed her finger over that spot, but I needed more. My hips had a mind of their own, pushing against her, and without a question, she lifted her head, licking her finger before pressing it around the rim of my opening, pushing in, breaking through the barrier I'd only ever pushed through myself.
“Argh!” I bellowed, earning another chuckle from her. It was too much—the pressure of her finger slowly going in and out of me, the feeling of her lips around my dick leaking precum, and I knew I wouldn't last like this.
I could feel it. The pressure coiling in my balls. The need to erupt in her mouth. The muscles at my stomach strained from the need to erupt, and when her finger pressed against my prostate, I was ready.
“Ev,” I panted. “Eve—”
But as my orgasm rushed through me, she pulled away, leaving me hanging on the precipice of the shattering orgasm. My balls ached, my dick strained in the air, red and angry from the lack of release.
“What the fuck?” I moaned, my head hitting the pillow behind me, while the little minx laughed above me, her smile spread wide over her face. She dragged her body over mine, kissing a path over my sternum, my chest, and all the way toward my lips, where she lingered with that smile, keeping her lips hovering above mine.
“Did you like that?” she asked, her voice breathy, and I could see her rubbing her thighs together, seeking a release of her own. “You did, didn’t you?” she said when I kept on looking at her, trying to catch my breath.
“I-I did,” I answered finally, wrapping my hand around her neck, pulling her down to me. “Did you?”
“It was the hottest thing I have ever done.” She grinned. “And I want to do more.” She kissed the corner of my lips. “So much more.”
Fuck. Me.
I have spent years hiding my desires from everyone around me. I’ve spent years thinking that there was something wrong with me, something that shouldn’t exist, and she shattered those beliefs in just a couple of minutes.
“I have, uh,” I cleared my throat, “toys.” I could feel the blush spreading over my cheeks, burning me from the inside, and the familiar sting of shame threatened to erupt to the surface, but the desire in her eyes never disappeared, and as those words rolled off of my tongue, it only increased.
“Show me.”
8
EVELYN
Cillian lookedat me as if he was seeing me for the first time, his dick twitching between my legs as soon as the words left my mouth, and I soaked in the desire dripping from his eyes, while his hands held onto my upper arms. Drunk on power, on the trust he gave me, was enough to push me toward my own orgasm, but I held on, needing, no, wanting to satisfy him first.
The moment he lifted his hips, I knew, and I wanted it all. I wanted him to fall apart underneath me, to give me his all.
He didn’t waste a second as he scrambled up, pressing his lips to mine before he turned toward the nightstand on his left, his body trembling while his cock hung heavy between his legs.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice trembling, and I knew he hated being vulnerable. I could see it in his eyes when I stopped, when he told me about the toys, and I could only imagine how he must have felt revealing this to me. To a virtual stranger that could mock him and make fun of him for what he liked.
That was the problem with us, with humans—we mocked what we couldn’t understand, and just because not every single person liked the same things, it didn’t mean that there was something wrong with them. It didn’t mean that they weren’t normal, whatever normal was.
I lifted myself up, coming right behind him, stroking his back with slow, leisurely brushes over his clammy skin, feeling him shudder under my touch. My lips pressed to his shoulder, hoping it would reassure him, show him that I wasn’t one to judge.
And I needed this, maybe even more than him. I needed the feeling this evoked in me, and I yearned to make him feel good. It was fucked up, completely insane feeling like this toward a man that basically kidnapped me. Toward a man that most probably wanted to kill me, if only to keep his secrets, but I was done questioning this. Done questioning every single move I made in my life.
“Cillian,” I said sweetly, keeping my voice even while my hands went to his front, covering his pecs, his abs, skimming over his pelvis. “I need this.” The shuddering inhale that rocked through him almost threw me off my course, and something inside me snapped, demanding to soothe his wounds, to make him believe me. “I want this,” I murmured, adding, “with you, baby. I only want this with you.”
I had no idea if it was my words or my soft touch that spurred him on, but within seconds he opened the second drawer, and as I leaned over him, I could see what he'd hid there.
“Do you still want it?” he asked, keeping his face away from me, hiding once again, and I couldn’t have that. I placed my hand to his cheek, turning his face toward me, pressing our lips together, hoping it would tell him everything he needed to know. Everything I couldn’t voice out.
“I want to make you feel good,” I said between kisses. “I want to give this to you,” I added, palming his face. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know,” he shuddered. “It’s just—”
“No,” I shook my head, trying to reassure him. “There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.” I stopped to look at him, and I slowly realized that he had never done this with another person. “Have you ever allowed another person to see this?”
“No,” he answered immediately. “You’re the… Uh, you’re the first person to… You know.” He shrugged. “To do this,” he murmured, looking down at the bed instead of me.
