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He nods. “Yes. And I’m about to break another one.”
Without warning, he tugs my thighs towards him, so that his head is firmly between them. With one hand gripping the curve of my ass, he uses the other to tug up my dress. I moan in anticipation, and then even harder when he brushes a finger over the thin lace of my panty gusset.
“Relax, my little angel,” he murmurs between my thighs, “when I taste you this time, I won’t stop until I make you come.”
His words melt me like butter, and I lay back on the bank. Fully thawed. He tugs on my panties, and I tilt my hips to let him slip them off. I hear the dull splash as he tosses them over his shoulder into the river. Then he bites the inside of my thigh gently, dragging his teeth up my skin until he meets my sex. I bite down on my bottom lip, staring up at the clouds swirling on the other side of the glass, rocking my hips in anticipation. Suddenly, he grabs my ankles, pulling them up out of the water and pushing them back towards my thighs, so I’m fully spread. My cheeks flush red at the thought of being so exposed to him.
“Look at you,” he groans, running his hands the seam of my thigh, stopping before he reaches my most sensitive spot. “You look incredible.” He punctuates his sentence with a gentle kiss on my throbbing clit, and I come undone like a cheap suit. His kiss turns into a suck, and as he grazes his tongue over my swollen nub, he slides a finger in and out of me.
I arch my back, my fingers curling over blades of grass. I don’t care if I break the rules and tear them out, I’ll take whatever punishment the Devil between my legs wants to dish out to me. Willingly.
“Cillian,” I moan, gripping the back of his head, “fuck.”
He responds by amping up the pace, turning his sucks into long, luscious strokes of his tongue up and down the length of me.
“Fuck yes,” I gasp, “Don’t stop,please.”
“You know I won’t, baby,” he growls, stretching me open with a second finger. “I won’t stop until you’re screaming my name.”
I melt into the grass, getting high off his mouth. Every nerve ending below my stomach is on fire, and I’m like an animal, frantically rocking my hips against his face, desperate to chase the orgasm. When he brings me over the edge, I don’t scream his name. It rolls around on my tongue instead, heavy and thick. Like I want to keep it all to myself.
I want to keephimall to myself.
With an animalistic growl, he rests his weight on his knuckles against the bank and pulls himself up, his bulging muscles working overtime as he balances on the edge of the river. I sit up to meet his mouth, claiming it just like he claimed my pussy. He kisses me hard, his tongue hungry and forceful.
“Maybe I like breaking the rules, angel,” he grunts into my ear.
I cup his jawline, smiling as I brush my lips over his nose. “Me too.”
In the hours that follow, we break all the rules. Multiple times. I steal his kisses and he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from me. By the time we’re lying in the bathtub in his ensuite, the back of my head resting against his chest, his quads locked around my thighs, the space between my legs is tender and swollen. Satisfied.
I gaze out of the glass walls into the field. The real world I’m not ready to be a part of. I watch the sun dip below the horizon. Cillian cups warm water in his hand and gently pours it over my nipples, making me moan with pleasure.
Absent-mindedly, I trace the muscle of his forearm with my finger. “There’s another rule I want to break,” I whisper.
His lips find the curve of my ear lobe. “Tell me.”
“The one about not asking questions.”
His chest sinks behind me, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “Since we’ve broken all of my other rules already, you might as well try me.”
I pause, chewing on my bottom lip. There’s no way to cushion what I want to ask him, so I let it slip off my tongue, naked and raw.
“When we first met, you said you didn’t have a heart. Why? What happened to it?”
He stiffens. “Next question.”
He’s not going to get away that easily. I twist myself around, nuzzling into the space below his jawline. “Tell me.”
He sighs deeply, making his Adam’s apple bob against my cheek.
“Short answer? My father was an asshole.”
“And the long answer?”
His nostrils flare. When I realize he’s going to tell me, I settle into his chest, making small circles against his breastbone.
“My father was from a small town in Ireland, called Granard. From what I’ve heard, he was a little shit. Terrorized his elderly neighbors, held up the town’s post office a few times. Everyone knew him as the local troublemaker. But when he turned twenty-one, he decided he didn’t want to be a big fish in a small pond anymore. He wanted bigger, better. So like many Irish folks at that time, he immigrated to Boston.” He pauses, running his fingers up the length of my spine. “The Irish rule Boston. Well, one Irish family does, anyway. The Quinns. My guess is that my father had heard of their power from across the Atlantic, and assumed he could get in with them. Spoiler alert, he couldn’t. At the time, the Quinns were notorious for only keeping business within the family, and despite being Irish, my father couldn’t get a look in, not even as the lowest-ranking foot soldier. So, he carved out his own path, one that didn’t rely on his ancestry. He set up bookies on the outskirts of the city, fixing fights and horse races, that type of thing. But he was a low-level gangster — he might have been top dog in his tiny Irish town, but he was nothing but a petty criminal in the big, bad streets of Boston. Fast-forward a few years, he met a girl on a night out and got her pregnant. She chose to marry him because she couldn’t afford to raise a child on her own. He grew increasingly frustrated with how pathetic his life was and decided to take matters into his own hands.” He swallows, hard. I stroke his chest and plant a small kiss on his cheek. “He decided that if the Quinns wouldn’t let him into their mob, he’d create his own. Rounded up a fistful of other low-lives in the area, all determined to pull themselves up from the gutter.” His tone darkens, and his grip tightens around my waist. “But if they were going to rival the Quinns, they’d have to learn how to fight.”
