Chapter 11

Eleven

C illian

Bloodstains washed away in pools of swirls down the drain. The warm water soothed my tense muscles and the soap washed away my initial guilt. Lathering my chest, I was reminded of the matching Celtic tattoo my brothers and I got when I was sixteen. It had hurt like hell, and I only got it because Paddy was set to ship out soon and I had just wanted a memory of him if he didn't come back.

Tadhg had gotten a bear. Bellamy had opted for the stag. Paddy, a raven, and myself? I had marked myself with the wolf.

The wolf. That was what I'd told Queenie I'd always be when I stepped outside this penthouse. The way she looked at me, I wondered if I had done the right thing. She looked terrified by what I'd done, but it was the way she clung to me before that made me sure that the decision I'd made was the right one.

Small hands lightly grazed my shoulders, as I turned, shock overtaking me, as I was joined by my wife. Swallowed up by my dress shirt, it clung to her skin as the water fell.

"Hi," she greeted me in a soft tone, her gaze settling between my chest and abdomen, too shy to look any lower.

"Hi." I stood there waiting for her to say something, anything to reveal the purpose of her visit.

"What did I do now?"

"Nothing, I just…" She lifted up, stretching on the tips of her toes. She pulled me down to meet her height, surprising me by merging her lips with mine.

"What are you doing?" I asked, withdrawing in a way I felt was polite.

"I don't know. I guess I just thought?—"

"That what? I kill man for you and just expect you to spread your legs for me?" Guilt and confusion stained her sweet deerlike features, as I took hold of her wrist, forcing her to meet my gaze.

"If you want me, I want you to want to. Not because you think you owe me your body. I want you to, because you desire me."

"I don't know how to do this. Cillian I've never…most things you've already experienced are all new for me."

"Well, you can start by using your words. Start with telling me you want me," I said, studying her dancing eyes filled with both trust and fear.

"I…I want you," she admitted, as I tilted her chin, my lips slowly parted hers. This time we were both ready for the kiss. A tender exchange, a joining between desperate lips and stolen breaths leaving a strong sense of craving when we both pulled away.

"You know I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Let anything close to you. Fucking scare you to the point you can't sleep. I told you, I'd protect you and maybe I could have asked you what you wanted. But you're my wife. The day I let something happen to you. I can't even think about it…" She pulled me back in for a deeper kiss, this time exploring, as she opened her mouth to mine, allowing me to access to her warmth and sweetness.

The shower-soaked dress shirt left nothing to the imagination, her curvy yet petite frame as visible as her nakedness. But we'd never been here before. I had to shift between wanting to devour her and respecting her boundaries.

" Mmm … I want you, Queenie. I want you so fucking much," I said, between the muffling of our pressed lips. She flinched at my touch when I attempted to slip my dress shirt down her shoulders, so I took that as a sign I was moving too fast.

"What's wrong?"

"It's not you. I just… can we do things without me taking my clothes off?"

"Queenie," I cooed, soothing her cheek with the back of my hand. "You don't have to hide from me."

"I know, I just," she hesitated. "I'm just as not comfortable with my body as much as you are with yours."

"C'mere," I commanded, guiding her by the waist as I unfastened the highest button to her top. I leaned in, pressing my lips to the exposed skin of her collarbone.

"Did that feel nice?" Shyly, she bit her lip offering me a soft nod. "Can I undress you?"

Another nod, as with each unfastened button her full breasts became exposed, her insecurities melting away with my patience. When I reached the button close to her belly, I asked if I could suck on her nipples. When I reached the bottom of the shirt, I received the consent to pepper her stomach in kisses. It wasn't long before our shower-soaked frames were skin to skin, with no barriers between us. Despite it being her instinct to cover herself, I took her hands and placed them behind my neck, once again drinking in her soft lips.

"You feel so nice," I whispered, easing the dress shirt onto the washroom floor, as I kneaded my wet fingers into her back and arse. "I want to show you how you're supposed to be touched. Can I do that for you?" I asked, meeting her gaze.

Pulling her in the direction of the washroom mirror, I demanded that she open her eyes while I worked a lather with my hands, massaging soap along the supple curves of her breasts, my lips meeting the back of her neck, provoking soft moans.

" Mmm …look at these pretty tits. Did you like when I put my mouth on them?" I whispered, as she whimpered and clasped on my forearm.

"Can I touch your pussy?" Her light hum gave me pause, as I assured that I'd only touch her, and that I'd only penetrate her with my fingers if she wanted me to. " Mmm …" I groaned with a bite to my lip as I watched her expression transform as I slid my fingers across her lips.

She kissed me, plunging her fingernails into my shoulders as she lifted one of her thighs, eager to make room for me.

"Now does that look like something to be ashamed of?" Her eyes danced, concentrating on me with trust and longing. I wanted so bad for her to come, but I didn't want to rush her release. I wanted to savor it. Consume it over, and over. Most of all, I wanted her to love it.

"Cillian."

"Hmmmm," I beckoned, praying to hear the words in her voice.

Instead, she closed her eyes, recoiled, clawing at my shoulder in a fit of modesty at the sight of her slick and wet arousal coating my fingers when I finally withdrew. Bringing the taste to my lips, I leaned in to kiss her so she could experience how delicious she tasted.

" Mmm … did that feel good?" Like a good girl, she nodded, too shy to say the words as I leaned back in to kiss her rougher this time, claiming what was mine.

"Good, because I'm not done with you yet."