Page 17 of Iron Bride

“Jesus!” he grunted. He pushed himself up by his arms, taking his weight off of me, so we were only connected in a single, primal place. “I need you to tell the fucking truth, Gia.”

“What?” I gasped, unsure why he’d ask me a question at this moment.

Why now? When I could barely think? When everything felt like a muddled haze of nothing but light and darkness. Even themeaning of words felt different now. Feelings were given shapes as solid as the flesh.

“Are you a virgin?”

Why would he be surprised?

“No,” I almost laughed. “Not anymore, at least.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he growled. “Will you never give me a straight answer, woman?”

“Your question is ridiculous,” I said between gasps. “You think I’d risk it? Risk the harm you serpents would bring on me? On my mother? If I came to you as anything less than pure? This is the Dark Ages, Mr. Green. Women are bought and sold to marriage, and I wouldn’t risk the life of someone I loved for a moment of… of…” I couldn’t put to words the action we were taking. We weren’t making love. But fucking wasn’t descriptive enough. “Just for a moment like this.”

His hands. His fucking hands. Why were they so warm and electric? Why did they land on my body so roughly, then gentle in a blink? And why did I respond to every bit of it?

“Look at me,” he whispered.

“Am I more precious now that you know I don’t have a lover?” Would he taste the bitterness of my words, as clearly as he would taste the salt of my tears?

He shook his head, not as a denial, but in frustration.

“You need to look at me Gia,” he whispered.

And my foolish body obeyed. I looked into his black eyes and waited for him to command me. To tell me what to do, as everything throbbed with need, and fear. Desire, and despair.

With one hand, he slipped it into the space between us, his palm landing on my shaved mound, his thumb circling on my clit.

My eyes fluttered shut, as I moaned beneath him, writhing against his touch, pushing against that delightful, happy thumb. But with the slow move of my hips, I felt his cock inside me move. Pushing further still, my eyes flew open at a flash of pain. He was watching me. He was as still as a statue, the only movements from that delightful thumb.

It took several more sways and thrusts before I realized that I was fucking myself on him. In my eagerness to chase my high, my hips had moved back and forth, undulating like a wave against his stiffened cock as he patiently waited…

Waited…for what?

“Cillian…”

“Shhh,” he said quietly. “It’s alright, love. You’re starting to relax. You’re opening for me. Just breathe.”

His black eyes were as hot as lava, and as deep as the ocean. I was lost in them. Lost in their hypnosis. Lost in the eyes of a snake.

“You’re alright, Wife,” he whispered, as he leaned down to bite the lobe of my ear. “My lovely bride,” he cooed, before he bit down on my throat, sucking the flesh into his teeth as I whimpered. “My darling Mrs. Green.”

He bit down hard on my shoulder, and I didn’t even pull away. I accepted the pain. I took it with eagerness and moaned against the forming bruise his teeth made on my flesh.

“You’re doing so well.” His praise made my nipples heat with need, my chest arching towards him, as though my breasts begged for his mouth.

He smirked, looking down as the little pink skin rose to his lips.

“Are you offering these to me?” he whispered, his lips grazing them lightly. “It’d be impolite to say no, I think.”

He latched on, biting down on them with the same aggression he had used everywhere else. Teeth scraped, then soothed the tender skin, and I wept with pleasure. My hips moved harder, bucking against him and his hand, until my thighs protested the exertion, but still, I couldn’t stop.

“Cillian, please,” I whined again.

He let my nipple go with a pop, smiled down at me—not smirked, but genuinely beamed with pride.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

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