Page 72 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

“You’re insufferable,” I bite back, but do as he says. His palm flattens to my chest, guiding me back until I’m flat against the feathery duvet beneath me. I swallow when that same hand roams down my body, touching me with the tips of his fingers. Down my stomach, over my navel, until he traces along the waistband of my pants, toying with me.

“Breathe. Don’t think about what comes next. Breathe. Feel.” His words are like a caress.

My chest rises and falls without rhythm when he inches my pants down to my knees, taking my boots at the heel to remove them.

I’m completely bare before him, stripped of all clothing save for the band of shadows wrapped around my wrists. Looking down at my body, I see him kneeling before me. The sight alone is my undoing. Odhran, a prince, an immortal heir to the throne, kneels at my feet, at my disposal. Or maybe I’m the one at his disposal. Who fucking cares.

“I’ve got you.” His eyes flare as he pulls me farther down the bed, draping my thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders.

His mouth is fire against my skin, his tongue like magic, circling my clit. Sucking and licking, he pushes me to the edge of a precipice I want to jump from. My heart pounds in my ears. I want to fall. I want to fall with him.

“Breathe, Mo Stóirín.” Plunging his tongue into me, he groans, the vibration pushing me further toward that ledge.

“Oh gods, Odhran! Don’t stop,” I cry out, fisting the duvet above my head as my back arches from the bed. “Please, please don’t stop.” But he does, climbing his way up my body, replacing his mouth with his fingers as he rubs his thumb over my clit. Over and over.

“My name sounds good on your lips.” He smiles.

“Odhran Cian Delaney…” I breathe, rolling my head against the bed. His lips trail up and down my throat, nipping and kissing.

His voice is like silk, soft and sensual. “Look at me. I want to see those eyes of yours when you let go.” Biting into my lip, I fear I might draw blood, but I do as he says.

“Breathe in…” His fingers find my entrance.

My back arches off the bed, straining against the soft sheets. My hips buck against his hand, my pleas escaping in a desperate whisper, “More. Please…”

“You’re so beautiful. So perfect. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.” That mouth of his. Those words. Oh, gods, save me.

“Breathe in…” He slides one finger inside me, curling it against my inner walls, and I think I might burst into flames. An invisible coil tightens inside of my core, begging for release.

“Breathe out.” He withdraws his finger at the same time.

His lips seal over mine, and my body becomes liquid in his hands. His tongue moves against mine, in perfect rhythm with his hand. The ledge draws closer.

“Odhran!” I cry out as my body tightens around him.

“So fucking perfect.” His voice is so deep, so smooth. Ice-cold shadows surround us, grazing every exposed inch of me, worshipping me. My skin tightens with goosebumps.

“Breathe in.” He whispers against my lips, inserting a second finger, spreading me open, pushing me off that cliff.

I scream his name as I fall, but I don’t hit the ground. I soar, riding his hand and grabbing handfuls of feathers and torn silk from the ripped duvet above my head. My walls close around him as my pulse surges into a sprint. His mouth is on mine, drinking in my moans as if for his own survival. He doesn’t stop moving, not even when I do. He only slows. Thrusts become caresses. Stimulation becomes praise. He’ll be the end of me.

I slowly open my eyes, and the sight of him smiling down at me fills my vision. A shiver runs through my body as he withdraws his fingers. They glisten in the dim light as he brings them to his mouth, savouring the taste. My cheeks heat watching him, and every nerve ending in my body sparks to life.

“You’re my favourite meal.” He winks at me, bringing me back to our conversation in the woods.

“I want to touch you,” I tell him. “Please.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His eyes search mine as I speak.

Reluctantly, he relaxes the shadows around my wrists.

Finally, my hands are free to explore his body. I reach for his pants, and this time, he lets me. My stomach flutters, my core tightens, and my skin burns with desire as if I hadn’t had an orgasm moments ago.

He helps me by pushing his leathers down, freeing his cock. My fingers wrap around him, feeling that he’s rock hard, yet his skin is so soft at the same time. Exploring the length of him, I run my fingers over the broad head to find a bead of moisture at the end. His groan is guttural when I pump my fist down his thick shaft.

“Come here,” he rasps, grabbing my knee to draw me closer, draping my leg over his hip so we lay face to face. I study the lines forming and fading on his brow with every movement of my hand, relishing in the power I have over him.