To ruin an Omega - Chapter 464: Forever (M)

Chapter 464: Forever (M)

FIA

I followed him into the bathroom.

Steam already hung in the air from the Omega having helped me draw a bath that I did not take earlier. When I dipped my fingers into the massive porcelain tub, the water was still warm.

Cian moved past me to adjust the temperature. He turned the taps, and fresh water poured in with a rush that echoed off the tile walls. The sound filled the silence between us while we both pretended we weren’t acutely aware of each other’s presence.

I reached behind me for what remained of my dress zipper and pulled it the rest of the way down. The fabric slipped off my hips and fell to the floor in a heap of ruined silk and dried blood. My underwear followed.

When I looked up, Cian had stopped moving.

His hands were frozen on the edge of the tub. His eyes tracked over me with an intensity that made heat pool low in my belly all over again. The bond thrummed between us and carried his desire so clearly I could taste it.

“You’re staring,” I said.

“Can you blame me?”

I smiled and stepped into the tub. The water was hot enough to make my skin prickle but not unbearable. I sank down into it with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in my chest. The heat seeped into my muscles and loosened knots I hadn’t realized were there.

Cian stripped off his remaining clothes without ceremony. I watched him do it and made no attempt to hide the fact that I was looking. He was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with body aesthetics and everything to do with the fact that he was mine.

He climbed into the tub behind me. Water sloshed over the sides and splashed onto the tile floor. Neither of us cared.

His legs bracketed mine. His chest pressed against my back. His arms came around my waist and pulled me flush against him. I could feel every inch of him, including the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against my lower back.

“Comfortable?” he murmured against my ear.

“Very.”

His hands moved over my stomach in slow circles. Not sexual exactly. Just present. Grounding. Reminding me that we were here together and safe and whole.

I leaned my head back against his shoulder and closed my eyes, letting myself just exist in this moment without thinking about what came next or what we still had to deal with.

His lips found the curve of my neck. He pressed soft kisses there that made me shiver despite the heat of the water. One of his hands moved higher and cupped my breast. His thumb brushed over my nipple in lazy strokes that sent sparks of pleasure through me.

“I thought we were supposed to be cleaning up,” I said.

“We are.” His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Eventually.”

I turned my head and caught his mouth with mine. The angle was awkward but neither of us seemed to care.

When I pulled back, I shifted in the water until I was facing him. My legs wrapped around his waist and brought us impossibly closer. His hands immediately went to my hips and held me there.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.”

I reached for the bar of soap sitting on the edge of the tub. It smelled like cedar and mint. I worked it between my hands until lather formed, then set the bar aside.

“Turn around,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow but obeyed, shifting so his back was to me.

I ran my soapy hands over his shoulders and worked the lather into his skin with firm pressure that made him groan softly. My fingers traced the lines of muscle and still healing scar tissue, mapping every inch of him like I was trying to memorize it.

“That feels good,” he murmured.

“Good.”

I continued my exploration down his spine and over the planes of his back, along his sides, where I knew he was ticklish even though he’d never admit it. I took my time, made it thorough, made sure every bit of grime and dried blood was gone.

When I reached around to wash his chest, he caught my wrists.

“My turn.”

He turned back around and took the soap from me. His eyes held mine while he worked up a fresh lather. Then his hands were on me.

He started with my shoulders. His touch was firm but careful, like he was handling something precious. His fingers worked the soap into my skin and chased away the tension still lingering there.

He moved lower. Over my collarbone and down to my breasts. His hands cupped them and his thumbs brushed over my nipples in a way that was definitely not just about cleaning. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound.

“You’re not playing fair,” I said.

“Who said anything about fair?”

His hands continued their journey down my stomach and over my hips, along the outside of my thighs, before moving to the inside. Getting closer and closer to where I wanted him most but never quite touching.

“Cian.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Am I?”

His fingers finally slipped between my legs. Not inside. Just there. Gliding through my folds with maddening lightness. The soap made everything slippery and heightened every sensation until I was trembling.

“Please,” I breathed.

“Please what?”

I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand exactly where I wanted it. His fingers slipped inside me easily, two at once that stretched and filled me in the best possible way.

He groaned. “You’re so wet.”

“Your fault.”

He smiled and kissed me while his fingers worked inside me. His thumb found my clit and rubbed circles that had my hips moving against his hand, chasing the pleasure building low in my belly.

The water sloshed around us with each movement. Some of it spilled over the edge of the tub and onto the floor. I didn’t care. Couldn’t care about anything except the feeling of his fingers inside me and his mouth on mine and the heat coiling tighter and tighter.

“That’s it,” he murmured against my lips. “Take what you need.”

I rode his hand shamelessly, ground against his palm while his fingers curled inside me and hit that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. The pleasure built and built until I was right on the edge.

Then he pulled his hand away.

I made a frustrated sound and opened my eyes to glare at him. He was smiling. The bastard was actually smiling.

“Not yet,” he said.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Later.”

He stood and water cascaded off his body. He stepped out of the tub and held out his hand. I took it and let him help me out. My legs were unsteady but his grip was firm.

He grabbed one of the large towels hanging nearby and wrapped it around me, then took another and dried himself off with quick efficient movements. When he was done, he dropped the towel and turned his full attention back to me.

“Bed,” he said.

It wasn’t a request.

I let him lead me back into the bedroom. The sheets were cool against my overheated skin when I lay down. Cian followed immediately. His body covered mine and his weight pressed me into the mattress.

“I need you,” I said.

“I know.”

His hand slid between us and positioned itself at my entrance. Then he pushed inside in one slow deep thrust that made us both groan.

He filled me completely, stretched me in ways that were almost too much but somehow exactly right. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel perfect.”

He started to move with long slow strokes that dragged against every nerve ending and made my toes curl. His mouth found mine and swallowed the moans I couldn’t hold back.

The pace was deliberate. Controlled. Like he was determined to draw this out as long as possible, to savor every second.

I ran my hands down his back and felt his muscles flex with each thrust. I felt the power coiled beneath his skin that he was holding back for my sake. The bond pulsed between us and amplified everything until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

“Harder,” I said against his mouth.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He adjusted his angle and thrust deeper. The change sent pleasure racing up my spine. I cried out and my nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

He groaned and did it again, harder this time. The headboard hit the wall with each thrust and the sound echoed through the room. The bed frame creaked beneath us but held.

“Yes,” I gasped. “Just like that.”

His hand slid between us and found my clit. He rubbed it in tight circles that had me clenching around him. The pleasure built impossibly higher, coiled tighter and tighter until I thought I might shatter from the intensity.

“I’m close,” I warned.

“Me too.” His voice was strained, rough with the effort of holding back. “Come with me, Fia.”

His fingers pressed harder against my clit, and his next thrust hit exactly the right spot. The orgasm crashed over me like a wave. My whole body convulsed and I screamed his name.

He followed seconds later, buried himself as deep as he could go and came with a roar that I felt vibrate through his entire body. I felt him pulse inside me. Felt the warmth of his release filling me.

We stayed locked together while the aftershocks rolled through us, neither of us willing to move just yet. His forehead rested against mine and our breathing slowly evened out.

“That was…” I couldn’t find words.

“Yeah.”

He carefully pulled out and rolled onto his back. Immediately, he reached for me and pulled me against his side. I went willingly and draped myself across his chest. His arm came around me and held me close.

My hand rested over his heart. I could feel it beating steadily beneath my palm. Strong and alive and mine.

“I love you,” I said.

The words came easy now. Natural. Like they’d always been waiting right there ready to be spoken.

“I love you too.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I smiled against his chest.

We lay there in comfortable silence. Just existing together. Just being.

Eventually I felt sleep start to pull at me. My eyelids grew heavy and my body sank deeper into the mattress. Cian’s hand moved in slow circles on my back and the repetitive motion lulled me closer to unconsciousness.

“We should probably actually sleep,” he murmured. “We have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Mmm.”

I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to do anything except stay exactly where I was. Safe and warm and loved.

“Five more minutes,” I mumbled.

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled through his chest. “Alright. Five more minutes.”

But we both knew I’d be asleep long before then. Already my breathing was evening out. Already my grip on him was loosening as my muscles relaxed.

The last thing I felt before sleep claimed me was Cian pulling the blanket over us. The last thing I heard was him whispering something I couldn’t quite make out.

But I didn’t need to hear the words. I could feel the sentiment through the bond. I could feel the love and devotion and fierce protectiveness he felt for me.

And I let sleep take me, held in the quiet truth that I belonged right here, with him.

Forever.