Broad shoulders tapered down to bulging biceps. His chest was wide and just as hard, hills and planes of sinew and tendons, cut muscles a stark contrast underneath his golden skin. His abdomen had slabs and slabs that made up his six-pack.
But he also had scars, little ones, long ones, ones that looked deep, ones that were old and faded. I found myself pushing up until I was sitting, my hands going right to his chest as I let my fingers skate along those marks.
“I’ve been in many battles, mo ghràidh. And I’m sure I’ll be in more before I take my last breath.”
I felt like a vise was squeezing around my chest, tighter and tighter until my heart was painful and threatening to burst.
I looked once more at all the scars littering his chest and knew there was probably even more on his back. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. I didn’t like how I felt this sense of losing a part of myself, knowing that he was in pain.
I moved on the mattress so I was on my knees, slipped my hands over his chest, moving my fingers softly over the scars, lingering and nonverbally showing him they didn’t bother me. And then I cupped each side of his throat, my thumbs on his pulse points, the steady beat of his heart right under the digits.
I pulled his mouth down and kissed him slowly, thoroughly, showing him with the gentle motions I wasn’t doing this to be rash but because I wanted to give myself to him.
I was choosing him.
But as the seconds ticked by, the kiss that started off slow and easy turned more frantic as we both lost ourselves to the passion.
He pushed me back on the bed, and I felt like I was a live wire as he suddenly flipped me over so my belly was pressed to the mattress, his big hands pawing at the mounds of my ass.
I was too far gone in how much I wanted him to worry about what he planned. I clenched my hands in the sheets, steadying myself, my cheek pressed to the bed and my eyes closed.
“It’ll only ever be ye,” he groaned, and I moaned as he slowly parted the cheeks of my bottom, no embarrassment… only white-hot need.
Cool air brushed along my now-exposed pussy before he let the cheeks snap back in place. He groaned and palmed me again, squeezing the flesh before opening me up. I felt his gaze on my cleft, wondering if it turned him on seeing me soaked down there.
“I will no’ last, Evie. Fook, I’m too far gone in my need for ye.”
I couldn’t respond. I could only feel.
Smack!
My eyes snapped open, and a sharp sound left me as pleasure and pain coursed through me. He smoothed his hand over my ass, soothing the sting of his slap, his palm so big I felt like it covered the whole cheek.
He slapped my bottom again, harder this time so I felt my cheek jiggle from the force.
“Ah, my female… have fooking mercy.” He sounded like he said the words between clenched teeth.
Smack! Smack!
I felt my pussy drip for him, my inner muscles clenching with the need to be filled. My fingers ached as I tugged hard at the sheets. I knew if I spread my legs any wider right now, he’d see the glossiness of how primed I was along my inner thighs.
With one more soothing motion of his palm over my ass, he gripped my hips, lifted my lower body off the bed, and positioned me so I was on my knees with my legs obscenely spread. With a growl, he pulled my legs even farther out, unused muscles protesting, but that just made my arousal fiercer.
Facedown, ass up, the new position left nothing to the imagination and had every intimate part of me on clear display.
He was so still behind me, not moving or speaking, that I looked over my shoulder to see that he was staring at my pussy with an almost frightening intensity.
“Cian?” I whispered, suddenly feeling so damn bashful. What if he didn’t like what he saw?
His big chest heaved as he slowly lifted his gaze from between my thighs to look at my face. He ran a hand down his mouth, his eyes glossy, his chest still rising and falling as if he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs.
“Cian…?”
His hand shot out and slid down my slit. I moaned at that small touch that inflamed me so much. He flattened his palm on my pussy until he cupped the entire thing, adding pressure so I curled my toes and arched my back. And the entire time, he kept staring into my eyes.
He kept his hand there for a long second, and it made me feel like he was making a point… that I was his. My pussy was his.