⋆ Chapter 192

⋆ Chapter 192
Climbing back onto Cillian’s lap, I straddled him, bracketing his hips with my thighs, pressing down against the unyielding heat of him through the last barrier of silk between us. A quiet groan escaped him, guttural and low, his head tipping back against the headboard to reveal the elegant line of his throat, pale and perfect, as if daring me to take more.
And I did. Grinding slowly, feeling him respond beneath me, I clung to the one fleeting reprieve from grief his body offered me—just for tonight.
“Matilda,” he said, his composure slipping with every breath.
“Make me forget, Cillian,” I whispered against his ear, my lips brushing the delicate curve, my hips rolling again, feeding the fire in my blood. “Make it stop hurting.”
He was so hard now, straining and impossible to ignore, and I knew if I kept grinding against him like this, I’d be done far too soon. But that wasn’t enough. I didn’t just want release—I wanted to feel every inch of him, to drown in him.
I slid off his lap, my fingers catching on the waistband of his briefs as I tugged them down. His hand shot out suddenly, fingers circling my wrist—not roughly, but firmly enough to still me. His eyes flicked to the bracelet on my wrist.
“Your parents,” he said lowly, “are asleep in the next room at the end of the hall.” His tone carried no admonition—just a quiet reminder, as though daring me to care.
I met his gaze, my mouth curling into the faintest hint of defiance. “Then we’ll just have to make sure they don’t hear a thing.”
That earned me the smallest smirk before he let go of my wrist. Then, without another word, he stripped the last barrier between us away, his briefs and my pajama pants with my panties sliding to the floor. His erection sprang free, thick and rigid, and I barely had a moment to drink him in before his hands clamped around my hips and he turned the tables—lifting me effortlessly and laying me on my back.
He knelt between my thighs, leaning down as though to taste me, but I was faster—my legs hooked around him, and with a quick surge I pushed him back against the headboard and climbed into his lap again. The motion startled even him, a faint flicker of surprise crossing his features before it melted into a knowing, wicked smile.
“You do love to seize control when you can,” he murmured, his fingers splaying possessively over my thighs as I rose up over him.
Then, slowly, I lowered myself onto him.
A strangled gasp tore from my throat the moment I felt him stretching me, filling me. I froze halfway down, needing a moment to adjust, my hands braced on his shoulders as I struggled to catch my breath. His grip on my hips tightened—not rushing me, but steadying me, guiding me as though he owned every inch of me already.
When I finally took him to the hilt, a soft cry escaped my lips before his hand came up, pressing over my mouth to muffle me. His palm was cool, firm, a reminder of his inhuman stillness even as my body burned and trembled atop his.
My breath hitched beneath his hand, my thighs quivered, and he leaned in close enough that his fangs just grazed the curve of my shoulder.
And in his quiet, impossibly controlled voice, he murmured against my skin, “Now… show me how much you need me to take it all away.”
I started to move, finding a rhythm that sent waves of heat through my body, but right then and there, I couldn’t help but wish we were anywhere else—somewhere private, somewhere I could let go without thought or restraint.
Every time I rolled my hips down and felt him impossibly deep inside me, it became harder to hold back the sounds clawing at my throat. My teeth sank into my lower lip, hard enough to taste blood, just to keep from crying out.
Cillian’s hands gripped my hips tighter, fingers pressing into my flesh, guiding me, controlling me even as I rode him. His control only fueled me further. I moved faster, grinding, then bouncing against him, chasing that dizzying pleasure that drowned out everything else—the grief, the emptiness, the pain.
We found our rhythm, a punishing, perfect pace that made the bed creak faintly beneath us. His head fell back against the headboard, and then I saw it—his fangs, long and gleaming in the faint light, catching on his lower lip as his chest rose and fell.
The sight of him like that—so barely restrained, his animal side slipping through—made something primal in me tighten. It was, without question, the most dangerously beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
He let out a low, almost feral sound when my nails scraped down his chest. His arm coiled around my waist, pulling me in tighter as I moved on him, his other hand sliding beneath my shirt. Cool fingers deftly unhooked my bra, tugging it free, and then his palm caught the weight of my breast as it bounced with each movement. His thumb brushed over my nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure so strong I almost cried out before biting down on my lip again.
I was trembling now, my whole body taut and desperate for release. “Bite me,” I whispered, leaning close enough for my lips to brush his ear.
His eyes opened at that, black and glinting, his fangs bared fully now. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” I said again, firmer this time. “Do it. Now.”
Something flickered in his gaze—hunger, need, approval—and then his mouth was on my neck. The sharp, sudden sting of his fangs sinking in stole the breath from my lungs, but it only drove me higher. That exquisite pain mingled with the pleasure already tearing through me, and everything inside me snapped.
I came hard, gasping against his shoulder, my back arching as I pressed down on him, grinding him even deeper inside me. His hold on me turned almost punishing, dragging me against him as he erupted inside me, his hips driving up into mine in long, deep thrusts that matched my desperate movements.
His mouth stayed latched at my neck, drinking from me in slow, greedy pulls as his own release took him, muffling the guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. I clung to him, nails digging into his back, giving him everything he demanded because I didn’t care anymore.
When it was over, we stayed like that, our bodies trembling against each other, my blood still warm on his lips, his seed still hot inside me. He finally lifted his head, his eyes back to their blue now, his thumb brushing over the bite marks he’d left behind as though to soothe them.
And though I was breathless, sore, and utterly spent, for the first time in weeks, the pain in my chest felt just a little less crushing.