Page 32 of Red Card (Prescott University #1)

Rory

I fear I might actually levitate off this couch.

Cillian hovers over me with his lips curved into a lazy, sexy grin that makes my toes curl along the cushions. He could have asked me just about anything and I would probably agree, if it meant “letting him make me feel good.”

Warmth floods my lower stomach as his gaze drops to the hard, pointed peaks of my nipples, which are practically breaking through the fabric of my T-shirt.

Hunger flares in his dark irises, and I swallow, feeling the heat of my flush creeping from my cheeks down to my neck and spreading throughout my body.

It can’t possibly be this hot in here, can it?

“Can I?” he rasps, asking for permission, his hand splayed along my stomach, along the edge of the thin fabric.

I nod.

Not trusting myself to speak, I keep my mouth shut, drawing my lip between my teeth as I watch him.

The tips of his fingers slip beneath the T-shirt, ghosting along my skin as he trails them higher, past my belly button, the rough pads lightly sweeping along my rib cage.

A featherlight touch that leaves a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.

I’m thanking past me for forgoing the bra.

I’m nearly panting with every languid inch that he caresses. His movements are controlled and unhurried. I’m honestly impressed by how unaffected he seems, determined not to rush things, almost as if he’s committing it all to memory.

The thought of a man like Cillian wanting to save this moment in his head makes my stomach flip.

It feels like an out-of-body experience, being beneath this man, his hungry gaze traveling over me.

Hence the levitate part.

I’m practically crawling out of my skin, needing him to go faster, to touch me where I’ve been aching for him since that afternoon on the pitch. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I could recall every moment in vivid detail, but it is nothing compared to the real thing.

Cillian inches the fabric higher until I feel cool air kiss the sensitive peaks of my nipples, and I hear his breath hitch. A low groan erupts from the back of his throat.

“How are you so fucking perfect?”

The whispered words wash over me, turning my insides molten. I’ve never felt as wanted or beautiful in my life as I do right now. I never knew it was possible to feel so revered.

“Touch me,” I beg.

His throat works, and he nods, never taking his eyes off my chest.

I feel his rough, calloused palms cup my breasts in each hand, squeezing gently as a thumb sweeps across my nipple, causing my back to arch off the couch and a breathy moan to slip from my lips.

“So responsive. I’ve barely touched you, baby,” he drawls, repeating the motion. His thumb and forefinger settle around my nipple and he rolls it, tugging gently, and I swear with each pull, my clit throbs in tandem.

Arousal tears down my spine, and my thighs close on their own accord, slamming shut around his hips.

Cillian continues to give attention to my nipples, tugging, rolling, flicking. I’m breathless, my chest heaving as I fight to keep my eyes open and not succumb to the pleasure.

“Christ, Rory, I think you could come, just like this,” he says.

But finally, fucking finally, he lowers his mouth to my chest, planting kisses around my nipple, until he closes his lips over it and sucks it roughly into his mouth.

His teeth scrape over the peak, and my hips squirm, attempting to grind my clit against his erection.

I think I’m going to lose my mind. This is the best form of torture, but I’m desperate. Needy. Aching.

“Patience, baby,” he says as my nipple slides out of his mouth with an erotic pop that fills the room.

When I try to slip my hand into the front of my panties for relief, he stops me, capturing my hand just before I make it there.

“That’s not patient.”

I groan, sagging back against the cushions. “Please, Cillian.”

“I fucking love to hear you beg.”

I open my mouth to sass him, but the words die on my tongue as he dips his head between my thighs and drags his nose up my slit, inhaling. “And I love how you smell as much as I love how you taste. So sweet.”

God. If it was anyone else, if this was any other moment, I might feel too embarrassed to let a guy this close to my crotch, but with Cillian, there’s none of the usual nerves or anxiousness.

Seeing the raw hunger and desire in his eyes is all I need to be 100 percent in this.

I’m not allowing my head to go anywhere but this moment.

In one swift movement, he gets off the couch.

His hands fist on my hips and move me until I’m hanging off the edge, and then he’s on his knees between my thighs.

Apparently, he’s had enough of driving me to the brink of insanity, because his long fingers slip beneath the lace of my panties, and he tugs them off, discarding them with a flick of his wrist.

Cool air hits my core, causing me to shiver.

Large palms run up my thighs, prying my thighs wider. Using his thumbs, he spreads my pussy open, eyes pinned on me.

“I’m going to eat this pretty little cunt every fucking day, and still never get enough,” he murmurs as my face heats, my nipples hardening impossibly. I’m delusional enough to think I could come with just his eyes on me.

He leans forward and flattens his tongue on my slit, trailing up its length. His groan vibrates my sensitive core, my clit throbbing painfully at the desperate need for release.

I’m ready to detonate.

My hands fly to his hair, tangling in the strands, partially holding him in place and partially holding on like my life depends on it.

Cillian laps at my pussy, swiping his tongue through my arousal at a torturously languid pace that makes me squirm and tug harder on his hair.

At this rate, I may just pull it all out, which would truly be a tragedy because he has the best hair. Dark, thick, shiny.

God, why am I focusing on his hair right now when he’s literally eating me like a man who’s been deprived and I’m his last meal?

“So bloody good,” he murmurs against my slick flesh before flicking the tip of his tongue over my clit in firm motions. Heat jolts through me as my back arches from the couch, a hoarse cry tumbling past my lips.

The pleasure is maddening as it pulses and throbs in my core, intensely unfurling low in my belly and blossoming.

All in a single breath, Cillian closes his lips around my clit, sucking it roughly into his mouth as he slides two fingers inside me, finding the spot that has my vision turning hazy. My eyes flutter shut.

It’s hopeless, trying to fight the orgasm that rips through my body.

It’s never been this… easy.

Never been so intense, so unrelenting.

My thighs tremble, shaking so violently that if it wasn’t for his mouth latched on to my clit, his fingers stroking deep inside me, I might end up on the floor.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good, taking my fingers like my good girl, soaking my tongue.”

The filthy praise only sends me tipping further into oblivion, my toes curling along his back as my muscles tighten and clench with each wave of my orgasm.

Cillian hums in satisfaction against my pussy, drawing slow, soft circles on my clit as I come down.

I’m completely boneless and spent as I sag deeper into the cushions, desperately trying to catch my breath, form words. To say something, but my heart is beating so fast that my head feels light, my vision swimming slightly.

Oh God, that is something that would happen to me… blacking out from the most powerful orgasm of my life.

Cillian slips my legs off his shoulders and rises to full height, the evidence of my orgasm still glistening on his lips. He lifts the back of his tattooed hand to his mouth, swiping it away, and I think I might come again, just from watching him.

“You good?”

Fantastic actually.

I nod, giving him a sated, cheeky smile. My gaze trails down to his erection that’s straining against his gray sweatpants, and I sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His head shakes. “Not tonight.”

“But you’re…”

“Yeah, because I just ate your pretty pussy, St. James.” My cheeks flush, and he chuckles wickedly. “But I told you tonight was about you .”

I don’t even have the chance to pout or argue, which I absolutely was planning to, because he leans forward and slides his hands along my jaw, cradling my face gently in his big hands. And then his lips are on me, kissing me until I’m breathless, the faint taste of me still lingering on his tongue.

I’m slightly dazed when he pulls back to stare down at me. “I’ll take my thank-you as you coming to dinner with Ais or I’ll never hear the bloody end of it.”

My head falls back as a giggle escapes me and I recall using the very same line earlier.

Cillian’s smile is contagious, and I can’t help but mirror it. He sits down beside me, gathering me in his arms. Realization hits me that I’m still completely naked, and he’s completely clothed.

I reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and pull it over me.

“Isn’t me meeting your sister kind of… not casual?” I ask, genuinely surprised that he would ask me this. He’s so fiercely closed off and doesn’t give very much of himself to anyone.

He shrugs. “My sister’s persistent, and she knows we’re friends. I think you’d like her. You remind me a lot of her.”

This comes as a shock, especially now that I’ve gathered how close they are.

“Okay. I’ll come,” I say. “But I think that I’m going to need some thank-yous for this. Lots of them actually— multiple in one night. You know what, actually maybe you should go back down to my…”

Fingers press into my side, tickling me until I’m squirming and thrashing.

“Brat,” he mumbles.

“All your fault.”