The Heartbreak Show (Bound By Ravens #3)

14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Glenna Lonan

He thought me . . . perfect?

A blush crept up my neck and warmed my cheeks.

“I’ve been so scared,” he continued, “that I might hurt you.”

While not his actual words, I understood what he feared—that his magic might one day suddenly manifest a darker side like Filena’s had and . . . become the violence shown him. Or become a dangerous drunk instead of a happy reveler.

But Cian was a lover. It wasn’t in his nature to harm others. Not even those who reviled him. He winked and blew kisses instead of returning their unkindness. Filena would fake-curse their arses and hoped they trembled in fear days after.

I brushed my nose along Cian’s, teasing his lips in lingering, yearning kisses. “Lady of Man, the gods gave you powerful gifts of magic because of who you are .” He started to speak and I lightly shook my head for him to wait. “Aye, you’re a shameless hussy”—I could feel a corner of his mouth lift a tiny fraction—"but never to draw attention to how you care for others. And sexy demi-god before me, do I swoon over your kind, giving soul.” The pad of my thumb caressed his cheek. “Cian Merrick, you are sunshine and laughter and chaos and cleverness and beauty and strength.” I softly kissed him again and whispered, “And I still think pink rouge is the wrong color for your complexion.”

“You promised to never break my heart, Glennie Lo.”

“For a demi-god who knows so much,” I quipped back, “your utter lack of cosmetic nuance is adorable.” I dropped my hands from his face and pointed to a small drawer by the bed. Cocking a brow, he opened it, well aware of the contents. “Be a good boy and pick out a tin.”

“Even pink?”

“Whatever color you stain my lips, will also stain yours.”

He quietly moaned.

I flashed him a flirty grin and leaned back on my hands.

He twisted to rummage around the drawer and began opening tins to consider each color in the low candlelight. I shook curls from my shoulders to fall down my back.

“Blood red.” He shut the drawer and repositioned himself across my middle.

His muscles flexed in an excited shiver. Removing the lid, he dipped the tip of his finger into the rouge. The breath pulsing on my skin quickened. He watched the stroke of his finger with a molten gaze that seared me.

“You’re every fantasy I possess.”

The hoarseness of his voice shot heat straight through me. I could orgasm just from the intensity of arousal softening his face.

He dipped his finger into the rouge again, then set the tin aside.

“Shouldn’t you remove an article of clothing with that confession?”

“I still have a bonus secret.”

Circling an arm around my waist, anchoring my hips to his, Cian dragged the last dip of rouge across my bottom lip to the slow rhythm of his grinding thrust. Fire exploded down my already flaming body. Dark skies, he was going to be merciless. Desperate for more friction, more of him, I rolled my hips as he lifted his, refusing me with a wicked smile.

Oh the bet was on. When he was done with this little game he was playing, I would play back.

“The Maiden,” he said, scooting down my legs, “shared that Cian’s soul would finally rest when he was reunited with his cow and . . .” Cian’s fingers caressed the contoured planes of my stomach in reverence. A soft, trembling sigh left me. He then grabbed my drawers and slipped them off to the floor.

“And?” I asked.

“And,” he repeated, lifting a leg to drape over his shoulder.

The seductive heat of his mouth kissed along the thigh pressed to his face. He really did plan to make me suffer. My hands curled into the covers in anticipation. The fingers sensually feathering across my stomach once more slid to my hipbone and gently dug into my flesh.

Just one curling flick of his tongue and, gods, I was ash and smoke. My fingers relaxed and clasped the covers again. Breath, hot and teasing, pulsed over my clit. I could feel his impish smile even though he wasn’t touching me anymore.

“And?” I prompted again, getting too worked up to remain patient.

“And . . .”

I clutched his disheveled strands and lifted my head to glare at his attempt to hear me beg. “Cian Merrick, I swear—"

Oh sweet goddess . . .

My head fell back to the pillow.

His tongue dragged over my clit before pulling me into the warmth of his mouth. The hand just holding my hip wrapped around my thigh and pushed my legs wider. Then his tongue was on me again, licking in long, torturous sweeps.

Cian moaned. The carnal sound of his pleasure while pleasuring me bordered on animalistic.

I arched into him.

The fingers I wove through his disheveled strands gripped tighter.

Cian tugged me closer, adding more pressure to each swirling flick and savoring lap of his tongue.

Every part of me was electric.

“Cian . . .” I whispered in a plea—more, I craved more, more, more.

I swore he grinned at the sound of his name forming the breaths heaving from my lungs. I couldn’t stop, either. Songbirds were vocal during sex.

“More,” I begged. Aye, I begged . At this moment, I didn’t care about bets and games.

In answer, he rocked me against his mouth, faster, faster.

I writhed in the blankets.

My muscles were clenching. My skin tightening.

When I didn’t think I would last another second, he lowered my leg from his shoulder and began kissing up my stomach. I wanted to weep. But Cian had only just begun and he . . . fiery suns help me, he was an exceptional lover.

And a stars damned edging tease.

One who still hadn’t touched the breasts I kept putting on display for him.

Or kissed the lips he had painted.

Noticing my narrowed eyes, he slowly straightened, a flirty smirk on that far too pretty face of his. Oh aye, there would be paybacks.

“You didn’t finish telling me your bonus secret, pet.” I playfully huffed.

His gaze caressed the shape of my breasts, the dip of my waist. “I desire every line and curve of your body to know my surrender,” he confessed.

My eyes fluttered shut in a languid blink. The heat rippling through me with that one confession was a thousand suns setting in my pulse. Was that his magic possibly as a true Love-Talker?

Cian began unhooking my corset around his torso and I drank in the reveal of skin, inch-by-inch. The low candlelight traced the mesmerizing dance of his muscles with his graceful movements. He tossed the undergarment to the floor beside my discarded clothes.

I lifted a hand to his chest and trailed my fingers between his pectorals; down, along the ridges of his abdomen; lower, over the hem of the skirt, to the hardened cock slowly grinding into my palm. At my touch, he loosed a shaky breath, his eyelids lowered.

“I want to die between your thighs,” he confessed next, breathless.

Dark skies above, I wasn’t going to last.

If I weren’t turning into a puddle of desperation, I would ensure he didn’t last either—it was only fair. But as much as I wanted to stroke him until he unraveled, I wanted him to find the Otherworld while losing himself deep inside of me even more.

Cian twisted to climb off the bed. I was too enraptured by the play of muscles across his shoulders and down his back to question why at first.

A part of me started to panic that one of those awful, hideous cock-blocking cock boots magically appeared in the wagon. I would permanently ban George from desserts, if so, the wee bastard. Then I’d hunt down that fecking leprechaun—

“Glenna,” Cian murmured as he untied the old costume skirt at his waist, his eyes fastened to mine. The threadbare satin fell to the floor in ripples of blue. At the heady sight of him, a small canine softly dug into a corner of my bottom lip. He really was so infuriatingly beautiful. His fingers skimmed across the laces of his drawers, the ones hanging low on his hips, then down his straining cock, and I drank in each caress. “I ache to hear you call me your sex god in—”

Groaning, I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him before he could finish that sentence. Cian erupted into laughter. If he were closer, I would have flicked his forehead, the eejit.

“You haven’t won that bet, darlin’ ,” I scoffed.

He slipped out of my drawers, climbed onto the bed, and began crawling up my body with a boyish, up-to-no-good smile. “Oh, I’ve already won, darlin’ .”

“I’ve brought in more sacrifices each night but one.”

He cupped a breast, molding it to his hand, and brushed a thumb over my nipple. “I don’t need a bet to win, Glennie Lo.”

A shiver prickled across my skin. “What are you scheming, Cian Merrick?” The delivery was embarrassingly weak despite my demand and his grin widened.

“The sounds of pleasure confirming what you refuse to say aloud.”

He winked then sucked my breast into his mouth and I almost hummed a lilting note of satisfaction. Almost. I would not encourage his ego— Holy Mother of Stars ! He slipped two fingers inside me—not one to warm me up, no . . . two —and the thrumming charge in my body detonated in an explosion of sensation.

“You . . . arse . . .” I could barely get the words out.

He quietly laughed then softly caught the hardened peak of my nipple between his teeth.

I bit back a gasp.

Be strong, lass!

Cian pumped his fingers in and out to the seductive rhythm of his mouth and tongue while my fingers clawed into the bedding. Fire was crackling along my burning skin.

Be strong!

My songbird nature wanted to let out every fervent moan crescendoing in my body.

Those delectably cruel fingers of his thrusted deeper, curling inside of me like licking flames.

I turned my head and bit the pillow, refusing to prove him right. Because gods . . . demi-gods . . . whatever . . . I was . . . I was . . . I was . . .

No .

I wouldn’t let him win.

I gently pushed him away, ready to weep again at the edged torture.

Fear flashed across his eyes. “Glenna—"

“You didn’t finish your bonus secret,” I panted beneath him.

His shoulders relaxed. A baiting smile appeared not even half a heartbeat later. “And?”

“ And , if you don’t finish this secret before you finish me, I’ll make sure you don’t finish for an entire week.” I lifted my chin. “Or longer.”

He snorted, far too delighted with himself.

But when his eyes rested on the blood red lips he painted, a look of longing replaced the mischief. Longing and . . . shyness? Drawing in what sounded like a nervous breath, he wove his fingers with mine and tugged me up, moving me to straddle his hips while he stretched out his legs beneath me.

Cian tucked a strand of hair behind the point of my ear, then cradled my cheek. “To finally rest,” he began, “Cian must find his cow and ,” he repeated once more, lowering his voice to a husky whisper, “fall in love harder than he fell for his first. And, Glenna Lonan,” Cian murmured, “my heart is eternally undone by you.”

My mouth parted.

Love me . . . more?

Cian’s and Eithne’s fated love was legendary to the fae. My entire Folk kind existed because of Lugh, the son of their union.

My heart is eternally undone by you . . .

A son who was saved because of their heartbreak.

My trembling hands rested on his chest. We weren’t True Mates, not like Rhylen and Filena. Or like Sean and Braelin. But Cian, re-souled or not, was mine. Always and forever mine .

Cian buried his face in my neck and kissed my wildly beating pulse.

“I love you, my beautiful ruination,” he whispered along my jaw and tears crested my lashes. He was mine, mine, mine. “I love you, my soul’s obsession.” He seized my hips and slid inside of me in one, slow thrust and I moaned at the heady fullness of him. “I love you . . .” His mouth feathered across mine. “ Mate .”

I stopped breathing.

He called me his mate.

His mate.

I shattered into a million falling stars. Every wish my aching heart had made was now a glittering mess of tears and laughter at his feet.

He desired to be my mate .

Overcome, I slammed my lips onto his.

The firm grasp on my hips tightened.

Then our bodies were moving in a firestorm of emotion. His hips collided with mine. A lightning strike of ecstasy. My fingers dug into his pectorals, deep enough to leave marks. Sliding up the curves of his arms next to sink into his already disheveled hair.

“The tight feel of you,” he groaned into our kiss. “Feck, I’m ready to die.”

Moonless skies, so was I. This man really did kiss with his whole body and the poetic way he moved was beautiful agony.

A hand cupping my hip drifted lower to grasp my arse—guiding me against him deeper, deeper. His other hand massaged my breast. And I was completely lost in his touch. The slide of fingers on my flushing skin had never felt so divine and yet like torture.

Gentle and rough simultaneously.

A caress and a branding.

Possessive.

The moans leaving me with every powerful, grinding stroke of his cock . . . they were loud enough to be heard by anyone walking by. But no matter how much we clutched each other close, my soul still fought to be closer. Each beat of my heart demanded to entwine with every beat of his.

Breaking our kiss, he leaned back to drink in my pleasure while slowing his rhythm. Red stained his mouth in a delicious mess. There was something so utterly erotic about smearing the rouge off a man's painted lips. Especially full, swollen lips painted by mine.

“I love you,” I whispered to the fevered space between us. My words seemed so plain compared to his honeyed confessions. But I couldn’t think straight.

Cian grinned before nipping at my bottom lip. “On your knees.”

I didn’t hesitate and crawled off him to turn around. He pulled my hips up and . . . holy gods , that first thrust would have brought me to my knees if I weren’t already on them. He gathered my loose curls in his hands and tugged the strands taut, the rhythm of his hips increasing. A long, deep, throaty sound left him and my body caught fire.

“You are my addiction, Glenna. I hunger endlessly for you.”

The arcing strike of his hips was obliterating me.

“Feck, your body . . .”

He circled an arm around my waist, my long, black locks still wrapped around his other hand. He nudged me upright and those skilled fingers of his found my clit. He kissed my shoulder, up the back of my neck. His breath hot along my burning skin.

“I’m yours,” he whispered into my ear.

The fingers rubbing me increased their tempo and my head fell back against his. The hold on my tresses relaxed to grasp my waist instead, pressing me flush against him. I could barely drag in air. Goddess save me, he felt so damn good. The throbbing ache for release was building, building, building. The only sound I could form was his name. A fevered prayer my lips pleasured in lifting.

“My body, my heart, my soul,” he murmured into kisses along my neck. “All yours.”

The gravelly, breathless sound of his voice was my undoing.

A wildfire ripped through me in a gasping cry. I didn’t care who heard.

At my unraveling, the rhythm of Cian’s thrusts bordered on feral. I reached behind me and gripped his hair while turning my mouth to his. Our kiss was a thunderclap of drunken bliss—slow, deep, heady.

“You’re mine,” I panted, enraptured by his earthy scent, his possessive touch, his everything. “I choose you, Cian Merrick.”

I bit down on his bottom lip with the tip of my canine and tugged.

His body stiffened and he sucked in a shuddering breath.

I released his lip.

“Feeeck,” he moaned, long and slow.

Muscles down his body flexed. Fingers splayed across my stomach. In one final stroking thrust, Cian drove deep inside of me and stilled. A soft growl rumbled from his chest. I released his hair and his forehead fell against my back.

For several long seconds, perhaps minutes—maybe a whole eternity—we didn’t move. A rhapsodic rush dizzied my head. That same extravagant, intoxicating feeling trickled down each of my limbs too. Cian’s ragged breathing stirred strands of my hair in between the gentlest of kisses. The calloused tips of his fingers skimmed along the curves of my waist.

My body was going limp in his strong arms. Instead of collapsing, though, I grabbed Cian’s arm and pulled him down to the blankets and pillows beneath me. My gaze locked with his and stars . . . he was so sinful, I was on the verge of fainting at the arresting sight of his swollen, red-stained lips, his blushed skin and messy, just-bedded golden hair, the pleasure still tightening his muscles into definition.

Gods , I could worship him until the end of time.

A corner of his mouth kicked up.

My eyes narrowed. “Did you just read me?”

Cian snorted. “Darlin’, the cock struck awe on your face reveals everything .”

Riddling eejit. “You did read me!”

“I heard you pray in bed, Glenna. Cian, Cian, Cian . . . ” I froze. A delighted smile flirted across his lips. “While on your knees, before me.”

His smile widened.

“I win.”

Before I could roll my eyes, make a sound of disgust, crawl off his lap, he tugged me to him and . . . captured my mouth in a sultry kiss that liquefied my racing pulse. And I didn’t protest. Not even one fraction of a second.

Not when he rolled me over to lie beneath him.

Not when his tongue and lips kissed his surrender across every inch of my body.

And especially not when he worshiped me and I worshiped him, again and again.

Cian Merrick chose me as his mate.

He desired me above all others and the wings of my heart refused to stop flying into the silky moonlight of his affection.