All he says is, "Good girl," before resuming his kiss and I am powerless to stop the fact that I'm sucked under a giant wave of lust and yearning that he's induced inside of me. His kiss is hard and unyielding. I try to participate but he's in complete control and I can do nothing but submit, so I just wrap my arms around his neck and hang on.
Cillian's hands grip my ass, kneading my flesh while he grinds himself into me, hitting me at that spot that is sure to have me screaming in a few moments. My breath starts hitching over the sensation and pleasure ricochets through my body.
I'm on the verge... ready to slip over the edge and completely yield to Cillian. It's almost on the edge of my tongue to beg him for something more, when he pulls his mouth away from me again. His breathing is ragged and he flexes his hips into me one more time, causing my body to shudder and my legs to squeeze him tighter.
He's looking at me with a mixture of desire and... anger?
Yes, that's anger in his eyes I see, and I can see it warring to take over the sexual heat that's still bubbling. I become still and on edge, my grip in his hair loosening.
Cillian then lowers me to the floor but he doesn't move his body away. His hand snakes into the back of my hair and grips it tightly, pulling my head back just a bit. It's another display of dominance, to show that my body will bend to his.
Oddly, I don't even think to fight against it.
"My band mate...Maeve... tried to kill herself two days ago. That night we kissed. That's where I've been... taking care of her."
I gasp. "My God. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you just tell me that? Why the display of male testosterone just now?"
He releases my hair and tenderly strokes his fingertips across my cheek. I have to fight not to close my eyes against the softness of his actions, even though his eyes have gone cold. His voice is deliberate when he says, "I didn't tell you because I don't take orders. And that display? That was so you never forget that your body responds to me, no matter what demands come out of that fuckable mouth of yours."
Ouch, those words hurt, even though I probably understand that he's being driven by stress over Maeve's suicide attempt. He has to be in a world of pain right now.
"Then why tell me about it at all? You made your point."
His hand drops from my face. "Because... you deserve to know there was an important reason that kept me away from you. But that's all you get from me, and I'm only giving it because I got what I wanted from you first."
Now I'm the one to get angry. "Is this some sort of game for you? Is that how you get your rocks off? Because if it is, I'm not playing."
"No game, Renner. This is who I am."
I'm beyond frustrated and want to slap him silly right now. "I don't get it. I don't understand what you want from me?"
Some of the ice melts from his eyes. He reaches down and takes my hand, bringing it to his mouth. He turns it around and places a gentle kiss on my palm, and just like that, I'm ready to melt back into him. "You're complete submission to me, Renner. That's all I want. And you just gave it to me."
"No," I insist, anger flaring hotly in me and I have the urge to stomp my foot like a child because he's making me crazy. "I did not give it to you. It doesn't work that way. There has to be something reciprocal."
His hands come up quickly, gripping my shoulders. He leans in, gives me a swift, hard kiss and pulls away just as abruptly. "There is reciprocity, babe. You got something out of it and you know it."
Gah. What did I get out of that exchange? Sexual frustration? Anger? Hurt feelings?
Before I can even think of anything to say, Cillian spins on his heel and walks to the door. "I'll catch you around," he says, and then he's gone.
CHAPTER 8
Cillian
"Dude... you need to get your head out of your ass."
Those words cut into my thoughts, which have been getting progressively darker and pissier as each day passes.
I look over at my best friend, Sean Lundie. He can be an absolute eyeful to behold. He's like a walking carnival, almost too bright and outrageous to comprehend. His head is shaved smooth but you know he's a ginger because he has a bright red goatee hugging his mouth. His face is covered in metal. Both eyebrows sport multiple rings and he has a barbell through the bridge of his nose. Each cheek is pierced with another barbell and he has labrets through his upper and lower lips. Huge, black ear gages frame his face.
Sean is also a fan of the ink and he has almost his entire body covered in a multitude of colors. He sports everything from Grim Reapers to fucking Tinker Bell and Snoopy on his body. Probably the most striking tat he has is a red dragon that covers his head. The head and snout of the dragon come down over his forehead, with the forked tongue coming down the center of his nose. The dragon's front claws come down over each temple, and they look like they are digging into his skin. The dragon's body runs down the back of his head, with the tail curling around the left side of his neck and coming to rest lovingly on his collarbone.
Yes, he is a sight to behold.
"How is my head up my ass?" My voice comes out edgy and defensive.
Sean pulls a No. 2 pencil out from behind his ear and starts twirling it in his fingers. It's a drummer thing, apparently. I suppose it's not practical for him to carry around his drumsticks, so he always has a pencil handy that he practices twirling. It's amazing to see him handle his sticks when we perform, but how he gets that little, tiny piece of wood to flip and roll so effortlessly among his fingers is beyond me.
"Seriously, Cillian... what's up? You drag me out here to the forsaken ends of the earth, telling me you want to write some music together, and all you've done since we got here is brood and pick at your guitar in anger."
Here would be my house in Oughterard. I bought it over a year ago, and haven't even stayed a night in it until this week. It's the first real thing I've bought with the money I've made but I've never had time to enjoy it. I didn't want to buy something in Dublin, because I was not there often enough and a small flat did me just fine. But I thought it would be nice to have a place to relax and unwind if I ever actually took a break from my work.
And I didn't really come here to enjoy it now. I really just wanted to get away from Dublin--and Renner--so I could get my head back on straight. I talked Sean into coming with me, because yeah, I thought we could use the time the flesh out some of the songs I had been writing. But he's right... I haven't done anything but scowl and mope for the past two days since we've been here.
"Hello... earth to Cillian... come in Cillian," Sean says as he waves his hand in front of my face.
Blinking away my thoughts, I give a sigh. "First, we are not at the forsaken ends of the earth. We're fucking two hours from Dublin. And second, if you don't like it here, leave."
"Man, you are all kinds of piss and vinegar. You need to get laid or something."
I just want to ignore him, but the minute he says the words "get laid", my thoughts immediately pull toward Renner. Which irritates the fuck out of me, because that's all I've been doing since we got here...thinking about her. I could be looking out over the lake, and I think about Renner. I could be popping open a beer, and I think of Renner. Fuck...I could probably see a stray dog gnawing on a bone and I'd think of Renner.
For fuck's sake, she does nothing but dominate my thoughts.
I thought leaving her apartment the other day and putting some distance between us would cool my desire for her. But if anything... it's heated to nuclear proportions. And not only am I apparently thinking with my dick all the time, but I have a small niggling of guilt burrowed into my chest. When I think back to that day... about the look of hurt that crossed her face over my words, my lungs seem to sink inward upon themselves and breathing doesn't seem to be an option.
I have no idea why I'm feeling this way. I've never catered to a woman's feelings before, not even when Maeve and I were together, and that was the longest relationship I've ever had. I speak my feelings true, and what I told her
was with complete honesty.
I don't take orders, because I need control. It is imperative that I be in control, because I spent so much of my life spinning out of it. I can't give it up to anyone.
And not only did I tell her that, but I apparently had to show her as well. No... correction. I had to shove it down her throat. When she gave me an ultimatum... to talk or leave, every fiber of my being rebelled. I had grown up with ultimatums, had choices unfairly laid before me, knowing that neither option was fair or kind. Knowing that choosing one would hurt just as much as the other.
So when she gave me two choices, I had no other option but to create a third. And that was to kiss her senseless and show her that she's playing by my rules.
I know I'm trying to justify my actions to myself, but it does nothing to ease the guilt that's starting to fester.
Sean and I are sitting on my front porch, enjoying the warm afternoon breeze. I reach over to my left and grab my guitar. I only brought my Gibson acoustical, because it's more soothing to me when I try to start matching up the music with my lyrics and it's obviously more portable than my piano.
Plucking a few strands, I glance at Sean. "How come you don't have a girlfriend?"
His red eyebrows rise up at my question, and the pencil in his hand twirls faster. He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess they're too much trouble to maintain when you're on the road all the time."
I consider this and accept it as true. Touring is brutal and exhausting, and it would be hell on a girlfriend to hit the road with us. Yet, it's not really fair to ask one to wait for you when you could be gone months at a time.
"Have you ever been in a relationship?" I ask, starting to pick out the melody that has been playing through my head. It has a quick tempo and it feels fiery to me, just like Renner.
"Yeah... back in secondary school. But she broke up with me just before I headed off to university. She didn't want a long distance relationship. Cracked my heart wide fucking open, man."
My hands freeze on the guitar and I look at Sean in surprise. He's never told me this before. "You're kidding me?"
"Now why would I joke around about something like that? I'm sharing my pain with you, dude."
"I don't know. It's just... you always seem to enjoy fucking around with a lot of different women. I didn't take you for the relationship type."
Sean stops twirling the pencil in his hand and sticks it behind his ear. He leans forward in the old wicker chair he's sitting in, and it creaks under the strain. "Cillian... I'd probably give up my music career if I could have a real chance at being with Aileen again."