Page 14 of The Wild Hunt

The question catches me off guard, and I jerk backward, tripping over the tangled blanket around my feet. I stumble and fall, landing on the warm marble floor, my back against the end of the bed, naked and exposed. The blanket is now a messy heap around my ankles.

Cianán’s eyes darken as he steps toward me, his movements fluid and purposeful. The intensity of his gaze makes my pulse quicken, and I feel a mixture of fear and exhilaration.His presence is overpowering, filling the space with an almost palpable force.

As he closes the distance, I scramble to gather the blanket up to cover me. I struggle to maintain some semblance of modesty, but my sense of vulnerability is overwhelming. The room, with its shifting shadows and creeping vines, seems to pulse with the rhythm of my racing heart.

Cianán kneels in front of me, his eyes locked on mine with a mix of predatory focus and intrigue. I have the blanket drawn up the center of my body, and his position makes me suddenly conscious of the leg left uncovered in my panic. He reaches out, his fingers grazing my leg and I feel the tingling heat where they trail.

The sensation of his fingers against my exposed skin sends a shiver up my spine. It's a touch that is both electrifying and unsettling, heightening my awareness of every nerve ending in my body. I try to pull the blanket tighter against me, but it feels like a flimsy barrier between us.

He moves closer, his breath warm against my skin as he leans in, his face inches from mine. The room's ethereal glow seems to accentuate every subtle shift in his expression, every nuance of his touch.

“Why do you look so afraid, little songbird?” he murmurs, his voice soft but laced with a dark edge. His fingers continue their exploration, trailing up my leg with a deliberate slowness that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. “You invited me to touch you. You wanted this, didn’t you?”

I can’t help but tremble at his words, a mixture of fear and desire swirling inside me. His touch is gentle yet firm, and despite the fear, there’s a part of me that yearns for more, that is drawn to the allure of his presence. I try to steady my breathing.

“Tell me,” he presses, his fingers grazing the edge of the blanket as he starts to bunch it up, teasingly. “Do you want me to stop?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. My mind races, trying to reconcile the fear with the undeniable pull I feel toward him. Nothing about this man reminds me of Nathan, the reminder of him asking for permission to touch me has me relaxing slightly. And this is nothing but a dream, afterall.

“No,” I whisper, barely able to find my voice. “I don’t want you to stop.”

A slow, almost wicked smile spreads across Cianán’s face, his eyes flashing with satisfaction. He leans over me, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “Then show me what else your song can do.”

As he shifts the blanket higher, his fingernails scraping against my sensitive skin, I notice movement and my eyes widen in shock as I see vines creeping across the floor towards us. Before I can react, the vines wrap around my ankles and start pulling forcefully, stretching my legs out on either side of Cianán.

More vines suddenly wrap around my wrists, spreading them across the end of the bed, away from the protective blanket I was clutching onto moments before. At the same time, Cianán fingers find my pussy, teasing as my arousal drips onto them, drawing a surprised cry from my lips.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let me hear you sing."

The vines tighten around my wrists and ankles, holding me spread-eagle at the foot of the bed. I gasp, my body arching involuntarily as Cianán's fingers slowly push inside me, stretching me.

His touch is burning, igniting sensations I've never felt before. Every stroke, every caress seems to awaken something primalwithin me. I bite my lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but Cianán's eyes flash with disapproval.

"No, little songbird," he chides softly, his free hand cupping my face. "I want to hear every note of your melody." His thumb brushes across my lower lip, coaxing my mouth open. "Don't hold back."

As if to emphasize his point, he curls his fingers inside me, finding a spot that makes me cry out in pleasure. The sound echoes off the marble walls and Cianán's smile grows wider, more savage. "Such a pretty sound," he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Will you let me play with you while you’re sleeping every night?”

I whimper as my pussy tightens around his fingers. “Y-Yes,” I stutter out when he pauses at my lack of response. This is all a dream, what harm could it do?

He leans down, his lips brushing against my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone. His tongue darts out, tasting my skin, and I shudder at the sensation. All the while, his fingers go back to their relentless movement, building a pressure inside me that threatens to overflow.

I gasp and writhe against the vines holding me in place, my body aflame with a pleasure I've never experienced before.

His lips move lower, trailing kisses down my chest until they reach my breast. When his mouth closes around my nipple, I cry out, arching into him.

Cianán’s thumb finds my clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, and I feel myself spiraling higher and higher.

The coiling tension in my core grows more intense with each passing second. I'm panting now, small whimpers and moans escaping me with every breath while he praises each one.

Cianán lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, filled with hunger and something darker. His free hand circles my throat, hisfingers pressing into the skin as though he wants to feel every sound that leaves it.

"Sing for me," Cianán commands, his voice low and hypnotic.

His words, combined with the relentless pleasure he's inflicting, push me over the edge. The tension inside me snaps, and I cry out, my body arching as waves of ecstasy wash over me. The vines tighten painfully, holding me in place as I writhe and tremble. Yet, the pain only makes it more intense.

Cianán watches me intently, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light as he drinks in every sound, every movement. His fingers continue their movement, drawing out my climax until I'm gasping and shaking. Darkness starts to creep into the edge of my vision, and my body feels weighed down like a heavy blanket is pressing down on me.

As the last tremors subside, he slowly withdraws his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting me, and a low growl of satisfaction rumbles in his chest.

---