Page 52 of Heart Cradle
Her gaze flicked up to his, sharp and sure. “I’d rather stay in our room.”
That word ‘our’ did something to him. Made him feel unravelled and stitched together in the same moment. He didn’t speak, just watched as she stepped in closer and gently rose up onto her toes and kissed him, soft and lingering, but with that undertone of challenge that she always carried. Her lips brushed his, again, and again, until he couldn’t help himself. He deepened the kiss and pulled her close, one arm locking around her waist. The other slid lower, down over her hips until his palms found her curves. She gasped softly as he lifted her effortlessly, and once again her legs wrapped around his waist in answer, arms around his neck. Eiran carried her towards the bed,paused at the edge and looked up into her eyes.
“Are you sure?” Eiran asked.
She stroked her thumb across his jaw, voice sultry and wicked. “I’ve never been more sure.”
He smiled and lowered her to the bed, the world narrowing down to the woman in his arms and the taste of her lips. Eiran stood above her, still fully dressed, but somehow more bare than if he weren’t. His tunic clung to him, damp at the collar from the heat of him, and the open laces at his throat revealed a glimpse of the chest she already knew by heart. He looked like a man barely holding himself back, every inch of him taut, coiled and watching her. Maeve sat up slowly, feeling the air shift between them and she brushed her fingers against the stubble along his jaw, letting them linger. She liked the way he leaned into her touch.
“Now what, Your Highness?” she asked, teasing. “You going to peel me out of these like a gentleman, or…?”
His eyes flared, just for a second, but enough to knock the breath from her chest. He didn’t speak, just lifted one hand, slowly, and the magicrose like a thread between them. Not forceful, just sure as her clothes began to loosen, the fabric shifted and slid like it had been waiting for this moment. She stayed perfectly still, bare inch by bare inch revealed under him. The last of her tunic fell away and she let it, she wanted him to see, she wanted to be seen. “You’re a fucking cheat,” she murmured, smirking despite the breathlessness creeping in.
Eiran’s lips twitched. “Would you prefer I undress myself the same way?”
She let her eyes drag down his body, then back up with slow deliberation. “Absolutely. Fair’s fair.”
Eiran held her gaze as he stepped back slightly and exhaled. His magic shimmered again, faint gold lacing through the air, and then, slowly, the laces of his tunic loosened, parting inch by inch to reveal warm, sun-darkened skin stretched taut over muscle. Muscle shaped not by vanity, but by decades of battle and burden. His chest was broad, solid with strength earned rather than honed, the kind carved by weaponry, wear, and weather. A trail of dark hair curled lightly from the hollow of his sternum, drawing her gaze downward as it disappeared beneath his waistband, tempting her with the promise of more. Maeve swallowed hard, heat pulsing low in her centre. He let the shirt fall away, and then, his trousers vanished with a flick of his will.
He was magnificent and Maeve didn’t look away, she couldn’t look away. The next breathe she took was shaky. He stood bare and unapologetic, every line of him was tension and purpose, forged and ready, but not just made for war, she thought.
Made for me.
Made to hold, protect and want. His stomach was ridged with lean muscle, his thighs powerful, braced like he’d never once doubted his place in the world, but it was the way he looked at her, naked now under his gaze, that undid her. Her eyes trailed downward, heartbeat hammering, and there he was. Hard, heavy and mouth-watering. Not just because of size or shape, but because it was him.
My mate.
Maeve let her smile curl slowly, newly found confidence blooming in the centre of her chest. “Well,” she said, blinking slowly. “Your magic’s clearly not compensating for anything.”
Eiran grinned, wicked and unrepentant. “You flatter me, love.”
He stayed where he was, letting her take him in, and she did. Lying back on the bed, naked, eyes raking over every inch of him, Maeve felt her arousal build like fire licking at her skin. The soft flicker of flames cast a golden sheen across her curves, every inch of her glowing, every part of her calling to him. Her nipples tightened, tender and sensitive, her thighs shifted, she was already wet, already aching and he hadn’t even touched her.
Eiran watched her face, his stare searing and dark, as though he could feel what she was feeling, maybe he could. “Maeve,” he said, voice low and reverent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Eiran’s gaze dropped lower, and a groan rumbled in his throat. Her pussy glistened, swollen and slick, the soft pink folds glinting in the low light like the most sacred offering he’d ever been given. The faintest twitch of her hips as he looked was enough to make his cock throb with need. Her arousal clung to her inner thighs, glimmering like dew, and he could smell it, rich, heady and devastating. The scent of her filled the chamber and lit something primal inside him. He wanted to taste her, to bury himself between her thighs until she sobbed his name. He needed to possess her.
He let his eyes trail up again, slowly over her stomach, to the round curve of her breasts. Her nipples begging for his mouth as they rose and fell with every shallow breath she took, and Eiran could see the tremble on her lips. Her hair spilled around her like a halo, messy from his hands earlier, and her eyes, gods, those hazel eyes, were locked on his, full of challenge, fire and something softer. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Lying there dripping for me, so ready I can see it from here.”
Maeve didn’t look away, daring him. “Are you going to keep staring, Prince,” she said, voice husky, “or are you going to come claim what’s yours?”
“Oh, love,” he growled, climbing onto the bed like a predator closing in. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”
Eiran’s mouth was on her before she could take another breath. Warm, commanding, and utterly unrelenting. His tongue licked a slow, devastating stripe up her centre, and her spine arched off the bed as if drawn by a wire. The first touch alone had her gasping, but he didn’t stop, didn’t pause. He moaned against her, deep and guttural, like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.
“Fuck, Eiran,” she gasped, her hands flying to his hair, tangling, clutching.
He licked her again, slower this time, savouring. His tongue was firm, practiced, and maddening. And when he reached her clit, he sucked it gently into his mouth, her thighs clamped tight around his head and herwhole body clenched. She was already too close and he knew it. She could feel it in the way he moved, sliding two fingers into her in one smooth thrust. They curled, stroking that perfect spot deep inside her, and she cried out, half sob, half plea. “Please, gods, don’t stop!”
He didn’t, if anything, he grew more intense. His tongue flicked her in quick, skilled strokes while his fingers thrust deeper, harder, curling and pressing in rhythm. The pressure built like a storm rising in her chest and her body bucked off the mattress, hips rolling helplessly to meet him. But he was stronger, with a low growl, he planted one hand on her lower stomach and pinned her to the bed, holding her down as he devoured her like he was starving. She thrashed beneath him, eyes screwed shut, every muscle shaking. “Eiran. Eiran. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, love,” he murmured against her, and the vibration of his voice against her most sensitive flesh tipped her over the edge and she shattered. Her orgasm tore through her like wildfire, blinding and raw. She screamed his name, fists locking, legs trembling around his shoulders. Her body convulsed, wave after wave rolling through her, and still he didn’t stop. He licked and sucked her through it, like he couldn’t get enough of the way she tasted, of the way she fell apart for him, because of him.
When she finally went limp, broken and wrecked, he kissed the inside of her thigh with something that felt like worship. She opened her eyes slowly to find him watching her from between her legs, lips slick, eyes dark with hunger. “Divine,” he said hoarsely. “You’re fucking divine when you come for me.”
Maeve swallowed hard, chest heaving. She reached for him with a shaky hand. “I’m not done.” She said, voice thick.
Maeve was spread before him like something sacrificial and wicked, her skin flushed, her breaths uneven, her thighs glistening from the pleasure he’d already wrung from her. When he touched her, when he kissed her, when he tasted her, it felt like being struck by lightning and set alight all at once. And still, it wasn’t enough. He lifted her effortlessly, her body pliant in his hands. She let out a soft gasp as he turned her onto her stomach, her cheek brushing the cool bedding. He dragged his palms along the backs of her thighs, then gripped beneath her hips and drew her up onto her knees.
