Page 22 of When Kings Fall

Piece by piece, he removes the rest of his clothes, slow and purposeful. The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, and I feel the heat in my cheeks as my body reacts. When he’s finally naked, the sight of him sends a shiver down my spine. I want to look away, but I can’t.

Diarmuid steps into the water, his movements smooth, controlled, as he lowers himself into the pool. The cool water ripples around his body, but it does nothing to quench the fire building between us. He swims toward me, his gaze never wavering, and I can feel my pulse quicken with every stroke.

When he reaches me, his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him, our bodies pressed together under the water. His skin is warm, his grip firm yet gentle. I can feel his erection, hard and insistent against my stomach, and a soft gasp escapes my lips.

“Niamh,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, the sound of my name sending a jolt through me.

His lips brush against my neck, warm and soft. A shiver runs down my spine, and I tilt my head to give him more access. His breath is hot on my skin, and I can feel every inch of him—his chest rising and falling with each breath, his hands gripping my waist, holding me steady.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts, but all I can think about is him. The way his touch ignites something deep inside me, the way his presence makes me forget everything else. Nothing matters right now but this moment, here in the water with him.

“Diarmuid,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, as his lips move down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He pulls me even closer, his hands sliding up my back, and I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against my chest. There’s no hesitation in his touch, no uncertainty. He knows what he wants, and right now, I’m certain that it’s me.

Our kisses grow deeper, almost frantic. His lips crash into mine, hungry, demanding, as if we can’t get close enough, as if we’re trying to devour each other. I grip his shoulders, my fingers digging into his skin, pulling him tighter against me. The world fades around us—there’s only the heat between our bodies, the water swirling around us, and the desperate need building with every second.

Diarmuid’s hands slide down my back, and I feel a thrill of anticipation as he shifts us, guiding me toward the side of the pool. My breath catches as my back presses against the cool tiles, the contrast making me shiver. He’s still holding me, his body firm and warm against mine, his lips never leaving my skin.

I’ve never done this in water. The thought sends a rush of excitement through me, mixing with the tension that’s already spiraling out of control. His hand moves lower, slipping between my legs, and when his finger slides inside me, a groan of pleasure escapes my throat. The sensation is overwhelming—the cool water, the heat of his touch, the pressure of his body against mine.

"Diarmuid..." My voice is barely a whisper, but I know he hears it. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming faster, and for a moment, we just stay like this, lost in each other.

Steam rises from the pool, curling in the air around us, blurring the edges of the world. It feels like we’re suspended in time, like nothing else exists but the two of us. The heat flushes his cheeks, turning them a fresh, soft pink, and for a fleeting second, I think he looks like heaven—like something pure and beautiful, something I could lose myself in forever.

His gaze locks with mine, and I see the hunger, the need mirrored in his eyes. He leans in, kissing me again, and this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. Every stroke of his tongue, every press of his body against mine, drives me deeper into this feeling, this all-consuming connection.

"God, you’re beautiful," he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough, filled with raw need. His words send a jolt of electricity through me, making me tremble in his arms.

I wriggle enough that his finger exits from between my legs, and I take the opportunity to wrap my legs around him, pulling him even closer, desperate for more. The water ripples around us, the steam swirling, as I reach down and place his cock at my opening.

Without breaking the kiss, we spin, the water swirling around us as I push him back against the wall. His hands slide down my waist, guiding me into place, and I can feel the tension in his body as his back presses against the cool tiles. The shift in control sends a rush of power through me, and I move, positioning myself over him. The anticipation is electric, every inch of my body alive with need.

I grip the edge of the pool with one hand, using it to steady myself, and slowly lower onto him. A gasp escapes my lips as he fills me, the sensation overwhelming. His breath catches, and his hands tighten on my hips, pulling me down, deeper. For a moment, we just stay like this, connected, the heat between us rising with each breath.

Then I start to move.

My grip tightens on the pool’s edge as I lift myself up, then sink down again, the water helping me glide over him. The pressure of his cock, the way he stretches me, sends waves of pleasure through my body. I can feel every inch of him, every movement, as I pick up the pace, my thighs burning with the effort, but the pleasure far outweighs the strain.

“Niamh…” he groans, his voice rough, strained, and I can feel him struggling to keep control. His fingers dig into my hips, guiding me, but I’m the one driving now, the one in control. I move faster, sliding up and down, gripping the poolside to give me more leverage, more speed. Each movement sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me, the water splashing around us as we lose ourselves in the moment.

His head falls back against the tiles, his eyes half-closed, and the sight of him like this—flushed, panting, completely undone—sends a rush of heat through me. I lean in, pressing my lips to his neck, tasting the salt on his skin, feeling the way his pulse races under my lips.

“Fuck, Niamh,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His hands roam over my body, leaving trails of heat in their wake, and I can feel him straining beneath me, holding on, letting me take him higher.

I quicken my pace, the water splashing harder now, the sound of it mixing with our ragged breaths. I grip the side of the pool so tightly my knuckles turn white, but I don’t care. All I can think about is him, the way he feels inside me, the way his body responds to every movement.

The pleasure builds, higher and higher, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. I moan, the sound echoing off the walls, lost in the heat, the steam rising around us like a curtain of mist as I finally climax and scream out his name.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Selene

THERE’S A RESTLESS beast within me, pacing, growling, demanding to be set free. I don’t know where Niamh has gone. When did she leave? I hadn’t even noticed her slip out. Of course, she did—what sane person wouldn’t take the first chance to escape me? I don’t blame her. In fact, I admire her tact, her ability to read the room and slip away from my chaos without a word. It’s… kind. More than I deserve.

I sigh, leaning against the cold stone wall, trying to calm the storm that’s been brewing in me for days now. It’s not just Sophia’s murder—it’s everything. The way my life has been unfolding feels unbearable, like a tight rope pulling me in all directions, threatening to snap. My behavior has become obsessive, even to myself. Every thought spirals, every decision feels like a trap. I’m suffocating under the weight of it all.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips. God, I’m annoying even to myself lately.

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