Page 80 of The Call of Crimson (The Crimson & Shadows #2)

His hands grip my hips so hard I know I’ll see bruises in the morning. I whimper when he tilts my hips up slightly to hit that spot inside me that has me delirious with pleasure. I clench the sheet above my head, grasping for something to hold onto.

The pressure threatens to break me, my body still fighting to handle the size of him, combined with how brutal his thrusts are.

“Cillian, please,” I gasp as tears prick in my eyes. “It’s too much.”

“No,” he snarls, leaning down and biting the space where my neck meets my shoulder.

Something wet trickles down my throat, and I realize he’s broken skin. My blood runs down my neck, pooling on the pillow beneath me. Cillian runs his tongue along my throat, collecting every drop of blood on his tongue before taking my mouth in another bruising kiss.

The coppery taste mixed with his kiss sets my nerve endings aflame. A feral energy stirs inside me, driving me to bite down on his lip. I bite hard, eliciting a moan from him, until I taste the tang of his blood on my tongue.

“Vicious little thing,” he mumbles against my mouth before flipping me onto my stomach. He does it with such ease, like turning his pillow over to the cold side.

His thrusts resume, the new angle even more delicious, leaving me gasping for breath.

Just as I feel myself relaxing, he circles his finger around my puckered hole. Warning bells sound in my head as we enter unknown territory.

“Cillian, what?—”

“Shhh, Ophelia,” he says right before slipping his finger inside.

I scream again at the burn from the finger inside a place previously untouched.

“This isn’t what I agreed to,” I whimper, trying to crawl away from him.

He pulls me back to him, slamming his finger the rest of the way in.

“This is exactly what you agreed to, Ophelia,” he snarls. “But please do keep running from me. I love the chase.”

After several more thrusts of his hips and finger, I find myself actually enjoying the way I stretch and burn for him. The pain only heightens my pleasure, and I start thrusting my hips back to meet his.

He chuckles lowly and asks, “Should I replace this finger with my cock? I absolutely love the way you take me. I think you’d quite enjoy it.”

“Gods no,” I beg. As much as I enjoy this, I can’t imagine taking him there.

The sharp sting of his palm hitting my ass makes me gasp. “Tell me no one more time, Ophelia. I dare you.”

I keep my mouth shut as he continues thrusting into me, driving me closer and closer to release. My inner walls tremor as I dance closer to ruin.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tightly…” Cillian pants, the sound desperate and tortured. “Come for me, Ophelia.”

And just like that, I explode. But when I expect him to come with me, he continues fucking me, his pace increasing. He pushes me through my orgasm, never relenting.

I cry out, once again trying to pull away from him. My over-sensitized flesh screams at his continued thrusts, and tears flow freely at the overwhelming pleasure that borders on pain.

His hand grips my throat, pulling me up so my back is flush with him as he drives into me. Still caught in the waves of orgasm, I cry out again when his fingers find my clit and begin circling.

I reach for his hand, digging my nails into his flesh. “No more. I can’t take it.”

I’m trembling against him and know that it’s only his strength keeping me upright.

“You can, and you will.” He pinches my clit. “I’m not done until you come around my cock again.”

Without warning, a second orgasm hits me even stronger than the first.

This time, when I scream, it’s his name on my lips. A few thrusts later, he joins me, calling out my name in reverence as he fills me.

We’re both panting, fighting to catch our breath as the world slowly tilts back into focus.

Cillian pulls out and disappears for a moment, then returns with a damp washcloth.

Gently, he flips me onto my back and runs it up my thighs, wiping away the evidence of our sex.

He tosses the cloth aside and unfastens the belt binding my wrists.

His touches are tender, almost worshipful, as he rubs the red marks left on my skin. The soft kisses he places there serve as a beautiful juxtaposition to the brutal way he just took me.

Those kisses continue, slow and unhurried, traveling up my arms, over my shoulders, until they reach my jaw. His fingers trace the forming bruises on my hips, feather-light. He tugs gently at my hair, massaging my scalp.

“Why did I like that so much?” I whisper.

“I already told you, no one is truly innocent. There are dark parts to your soul, just as there are bright parts of mine. Your darkness is a part of you, and it’s beautiful.

Watching you embrace it? It’s intoxicating.

” His lips brush my jaw. “You crave control. But giving up control like that… that’s the most powerful act there is.

You held all the power tonight, little goddess.

If you’d said the word, I’d have stopped. No questions. You never did.”

His kisses continue along my jaw until he reaches my lips. He places a chaste kiss there, whispering, “But for the record, I’m really glad you didn’t. You’re so beautifully vicious.”

His fingers continue softly caressing my side.

“I’m a broken little thing,” I choke out the words.

“Broken doesn’t mean less than. There will come a day when you put yourself back together, and I pity anyone who stands in your way when that day comes.”

I fall silent, letting the weight of his words settle in my chest. I want to believe him. I hope he’s right.

“Thank you, Cillian,” I say softly.

“For what?”

“For embracing the part of myself that I fear.”

“I rather like that part of you,” he says with a wink. “You should let her out to play more often.”

“My friends wouldn’t understand,” I sigh.

He cocks his head at me. “Wouldn’t they?”

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“You’re wrong, just so you know.”

I don’t have the energy to argue, so I don’t. Instead, I begin to shift out of bed.

“Stay,” he demands softly, pulling me back toward him.

“I can’t. This can’t mean anything.”

“Then it won’t. It’s just sleeping.”

I push myself up and fight the tears forming behind my eyes. “I can’t, Cillian. I’ve only ever shared a bed with him. If I stay, it will mean something. It can’t mean anything because then it feels like everything I shared with him means nothing.”

The admission has pain creeping back in, and Cillian gives me a sad look. With one last kiss, he lets me go. “I don’t agree, but I understand. Good night, Ophelia.”

I dress quickly and wrap my cloak around me, stepping into the hallway as quietly as possible.

My shoulders fall as I fight the pain creeping further under my skin. As it turns out, Cillian’s room isn’t far from my own.

Looking down the hall, I startle when I notice a figure across from me. As they step away from the wall, I find Ayden staring at me. My cheeks flush at what he must have heard if he’d been outside the door for long.

“Good evening, Ophelia.”

“Good evening, Prince.” My voice is soft as I ask, “How long have you been standing there?”

His chest rises as he inhales a deep breath before answering, “Long enough.”

“Why?”

“I went to your room looking for you. I was going to offer to quiet your dreams. When you weren’t there, I went in search of you. It didn’t take long to find you.”

I’m not sure how to read the emotions on his face right now. His words are neutral, but he sounds uncomfortable or upset by something.

“You came to help me sleep?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Why would you do that?”

“I could say it’s because I gave my word to Elijah. But the truth?” He pauses. “I can’t stand to see you in this much pain. If I can help, even just a little, I want to.”

His explanation leaves me speechless.

Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. He holds me tightly for several long, quiet moments.

When I finally pull back, my cloak slips. The edge of the hood falls, baring my neck.

Ayden stiffens.

His amber eyes turn molten as he eyes the angry red mark left by Cillian’s teeth. I know it looks much worse than any love bites, but truthfully, I delighted in it.

“He did this to you,” Ayden hisses as his fingers trace over the mark.

I flinch slightly at the sting of having him touch the wound.

“Yes,” I say softly, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “But it wasn’t anything I didn’t want.”

His eyes turn from venomous to curious in an instant.

“Intriguing,” he says, dropping his hand from my neck.

We walk the rest of the way to my room in silence. But it’s not uncomfortable.

After I shut the door behind us and drop my cloak to the floor, I turn to him. “Ayden, I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“For whatever you overheard between Cillian and me. It seems to have upset you, and I just?— “

“Stop, Ophelia.” He places a hand over my mouth, silencing me. Once he’s satisfied I’m done talking, he lowers it.

“You are responsible for your own self-rescue,” he says. “How you decide to heal is up to you, and I don’t ever want to hear you apologize for it again. You are not responsible for my feelings.”

I nod, heart thudding in my chest.

“Now go get dressed for bed.”

I slip into the bathing chambers and quickly discard my dress and ruined shift in one swift motion. Pulling a nightdress over my chilled skin, I fight back the tears pressing behind my eyes.

I had worn Elijah’s shirt to bed every night since his death, soaking in the last remaining bits of his scent that lingered.

The faint scent of cinnamon and chocolate clinging to the fabric was all I had left of him, and it was nearly gone.

But it felt wrong wearing his shirt to bed when I was covered in Cillian’s scent.

A fresh wave of grief rolls through me as I realize I will never again be covered in the smell of cocoa and cinnamon. It would never again be his love marks that marred my skin. I would never wake up next to him again.

It was all… gone.

I sink to the floor, the weight of it pressing me down as the sobs take over, raw and unrelenting. I don’t know how long I sit there, knees drawn to my chest, tears soaking my nightdress.

When Ayden finds me, I barely hear the door open. But then his arms are around me, lifting me from the cold tile without a word. He carries me to my bed and lays me down gently, pulling the covers up to my shoulders like I’m something fragile.

My body still trembles, but the tears eventually slow. I feel the warmth of his magic press gently against my temple, soothing, quieting the edges of my mind.

Between his Gift and the exhaustion Cillian left in his wake, I know I’ll sleep deeply tonight.

A thought occurs as he pulls away. “Why do you have to kiss Breyla’s forehead for your Gift to work?”

A soft smile tugs at his lips. “I don’t. I just really enjoy pissing off Aurelius.”

“That sounds about right,” I mumble through a yawn.

“Sweet dreams, Ophelia.”

“Good night, Ayden.”