As if he needed to ask. The pub had walls of windows across the front. Of course Lyse had found a way to see him.
She took her hand back, curling it against her chest, away from him. Her face turned toward the pillow. Hiding. But her voice was firm this time. “I needed to watch your back.”
And he could accept that. “I know,” he said, pushing her hair back from her face. He needed to see her, read her. Understand her.
“You let her touch you,” she said again.
A grin pulled at his mouth. Was she jealous? Laura had only touched his hand, but Lyse was new to all this. Or maybe not so new. She’d been after watching him while in hiding. Had she watched him before that? He hadn’t been a saint. How many times had she seen him with another woman?
He turned her words over in his mind. The more he considered it, the more he watched her, he realized that the petty bite that usually came with jealousy was missing. This wasn’t jealousy; this was a woman pushing herself to do something she was obviously scared to do. Why?
“You could see us at the bar,” he said, propping his head on his hand, “and yes, she did take my hand. Nothing more.” He brought his mouth to her ear, letting his heat warm her body. “And do you know what I said at that moment?”
He heard Lyse take a breath, but she didn’t release it. Just waited, waited.
“I told her I was taken.”
Her head came up so fast she clipped his chin. Wide eyes pleaded with him to be confirming his words.
“It’s true,” he said, rubbing his chin.
Her gaze dropped to his hand. “Sorry.”
He winked. “I’m tough; I can take it.”
“I know you can.” But her smile was weak. She shifted away from him. “I guess you don’t want… I mean…” Even in the dim light he could see the color wash over her cheeks.
He tipped her chin up until she met his eyes again. “I’m not rejecting you, Lyse.” He had a feeling she’d lived with a lot of that, though how anyone could miss her need for affection, he didn’t know.
You did.
Yes, he’d already established that he’d been an asshole.
“I’m not rejecting you,” he said again. “I just want to make sure this is right for you, not something you’re doing to…because you think you have to.” He let his hand trail over her shoulder to the narrow ridge of her spine. “You’re scared.”
“Of course I’m scared. I’ve never done this before. And you have. A lot.” The words had bite, but before he could address them, Lyse was out of the bed, walking across the small room, then back. Pacing. Her fist dug into her breastbone, rubbing at the scar.
He sat up and scooted to the edge, trying to ignore the way her pale skin gleamed in the darkened room, how her legs looked below the hem of the T-shirt she wore. He did fine; his dick, not so much.
Lyse wasn’t needin’ his words; she was needin’ his ears. So he waited as she paced for a couple of minutes, back and forth, back and forth, before coming to a stop just out of reach. That hand kept rubbing, shouting more loudly than words the emotions churning inside her. He fisted his hands in the blankets, wanting to reach for her but not sure she’d let him touch.
“You know my mother gave me away.”
He took a careful breath. “I know.”
“My foster parents…they were good people. They did so much to get me better. Healthy. They paid so much.” The last word trailed off, and Lyse cleared her throat.
He barely held back from reaching for her.
“I always felt like I had to be the best for them, have the highest grades, be the model daughter. It wasn’t anything they said, but they’d done…so much. I felt like I had to live up to that, make up for it.”
Like she had to be earning their love.
Holy shit. Was she thinking she had to have sex or he wouldn’t be staying with her?
“I was never really normal—the heart thing, the nerd thing,” she said. A little laugh escaped. “I mean, I graduated high school at thirteen. That’s not normal.”
“But they had to be proud of you, Lyse.” Who wouldn’t be?
“They were. I knew they were. The problem wasn’t them; it was my own head.” Her arms crossed over her stomach, holding tight. “I didn’t want to risk them not wanting me.”
“And now you’re thinkin’, because of everything that’s happened, that sleeping with me will keep me wanting you?”
She sniffled. “That sounds stupid. Like the only reason I’d want to have sex with you is to force you to stay with me.”
It didn’t sound stupid; it sounded insecure. He hadn’t realized just how insecure she felt until that moment. So many wounds that needed healing.
He angled his legs open, held out a hand to her. “C’mere, love.”
She did, slowly, easing closer like a wary animal. Afraid of rejection. Embarrassed to reveal her inadequacies. Every person had them, but talking about them…never easy.
When she got close enough, he took her hand and yanked her into him. He couldn’t wait another second to hold her against him, to smother this woman in warmth and acceptance and…caring, maybe. Not love—what the feck did he know about love?—but Christ, he cared about her, always had, even when he’d thought she’d tried to kill him. He wouldn’t have been so angry otherwise.
Her body was so small in his arms, petite, but with padding in all the right places. She didn’t feel like bones—her breasts mounded against his chest, and her ass… He groaned. Two handfuls of plump flesh he couldn’t wait to get in his grip. But for now he simply wound his arms around her like chains and refused to let go.
“I don’t think I’m going to be any good at this,” she said, the words muffled into his neck.
If she was any better at turning him on, he might have a problem with endurance. God’s truth. “Lyse, you breathe and I want you. Right now I’m having a time not pulling you under me and showing you exactly how good we could be together. All you have to do is show up, love. Everything else will happen as it’s supposed to.” He’d be making sure of it.
“Then why haven’t you…”
He eased back so he could see her face. “Why haven’t we had sex yet?”
She bit her bottom lip, the white of her teeth shining in the dark. Nodded.
He pulled the flesh from her bite and rubbed his thumb along the bruised curve of her lip. “I guess I wanted it to be perfect for you. Like you must’ve imagined it would be after all this time.”
A little laugh escaped her. “I don’t think we’re going to get more perfect than you inside me. And I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“You’re not just saying that because you feel obligated?”
She shook her head. “I know I’m screwed up, Fionn. I know the scars from the past couple of months won’t go away overnight, for either of us. But…if you want me…I desperately need you to show me.
“Take me. Right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lyse felt like she was standing there with her heart in her hands, begging him to love her. It didn’t matter if he loved her, not for this. He would take care of her; she knew that. And she desperately needed for this moment to finally come to pass. She’d deal with whether he returned her feelings or not later.
Much later.
Fionn sat on the tall bed in front of her, and she still had to look up to see his face. His chest was bare, all that creamy skin. He was a true redhead, his body pale where his shirt covered, lightly tanned where it didn’t, with a sprinkle of freckles across his shoulders that she wanted to explore with her tongue, if only she could get the courage.
Instead she stared into those bright green eyes and waited. She hadn’t taken a breath in forever, but she waited. Wanting him. Loving him.
Until his palms dropped to her thighs and skimmed up along the sensitive skin, taking her shirt with him. Up, up, up. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and she knew the minute his gaze landed on her breasts.
He groaned.
; Her back arched instinctively, offering herself to him. She watched from beneath heavy-lidded eyes as he moved in, his mouth coming closer, opening. He didn’t tease her, didn’t make her wait—there was no licking, no rubbing of his lips across the pink, flushed skin. No, he latched on to her hard, aching nipple and sucked immediately.
“Fionn!”
Oh God, she’d known this would be good, but she could never have imagined how good, as if her every thought sank into the tug on her breast until nothing existed but Fionn’s mouth, her breath, and the zing of pleasure shooting from nipple to core and back again. She squeezed her thighs together, whining with the ache in her clit, powerless to control the hunger rising so fast and furious inside her.
When he let go, he scraped his teeth along the too-sensitive skin, and Lyse had to fight to hold back a scream. “I knew you’d be like this. My pretty wan.” He blew a warm breath over the moisture he’d left behind, and she could feel her nipple crinkle up, harden even more. “So sensitive. Feck!” His hands tugged at the panties still hugging her hips. “I need to see you.”
Her heartbeat raced, her skin flushing, but she didn’t stop him. All she cared about was getting his mouth on her again, getting that heavenly sensation overtaking her body again. The silky cloth slid down her legs, and then the world tilted as Fionn picked her up and placed her on the bed.
He didn’t join her, though. When the lamp on the bedside table clicked on, she fisted the covers beneath her, fighting not to cover herself. Fionn wanted to see her. She’d give him anything he wanted, no matter how self-conscious it made her. He was her master in this; he wouldn’t lead her astray.
A string of curses lilted across his lips as he stared at her bare body. Praise, that’s what they were. His words caressed her, his gaze sensitizing her body until she thought she’d go insane. “I want to see you too, Fionn,” she whispered. Then more boldly, “Show me.”
He didn’t take his time with his clothes; he jerked his zipper open so fast she was surprised it didn’t break. His pants were on the floor and kicked away seconds later. The tight boxers he wore molded to his body, doing nothing to hide the thick length of his erection from her gaze.
Holy shit. A hard swallow nearly choked her. That body, that penis was about to be hers. She was giving herself to Fionn “Irish” McCullough.
He palmed himself, gripping tight as his eyes roamed her body. When he licked his lips, she had the insane desire to get up on her knees, crawl across the bed to him, and beg for his erection in her mouth.
“This cock is so hard for you, love.”
Holy shit was right.
“Take them off.” Her voice was hoarse, her breathing ragged, but he understood. Hooking the waistband of his boxers, he shoved them down his body. His…cock, he’d called it—she filed that away in her store of Fionn knowledge—bobbed against his lower belly, thick and red, the tip wet. It was her turn to lick her lips.
“Lyse.” Her name was more growl than anything. “Keep looking at my cock like that and this isn’t going to last.”
She wanted it to last forever, but she couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling herself up, she came to her hands and knees and began a slow stalk across the bed. Where this temptress came from, she didn’t know and didn’t care; all she knew was that the heat rising inside her couldn’t wait a second longer.
“Feckin’ hell.” Fionn angled his cock out as if he knew exactly what she wanted. And he did. It took seconds to get close enough, and then she was leaning forward, the male, musky scent of him filling her nose, the salty taste of him settling on her tongue as she licked the broad head.
A rough groan left Fionn’s lips, so she did it again, lingering this time. When he widened his stance, bringing his hips in line with her mouth, she stopped taking her time and sucked him in just as he had her.
Fionn’s shout was barely muffled. He was trying to protect her, she knew, to keep their privacy in a house full of adults who knew exactly what those sounds meant. But oh, she wished he’d let go, that he didn’t have to hold back. She wanted to hear him shout his pleasure, shout her name. As it was, the constant low growl escaping him as she bobbed carefully on his cock made her feel ten feet tall—and wet. So wet.
Fionn’s hands slid into her hair to grip her head, tilting her to a different angle. His cock slid farther along her tongue to her throat. “Lyse…God, that’s it. Right there. Your mouth…” He eased back, pushed in again. The silken skin she sucked seemed so soft, but the weight of him was heavy between her lips, making her jaw ache. She nursed him anyway, wanting to give him pleasure, wanting everything she could get, including his come in her mouth. Controlling him like this, seeing his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tight in what looked like agony—she could climax just like this, just from watching him, touching him, loving him.
Her heart clenched hard.
“You’ve got to stop, love,” he choked as the head pushed against her throat once more. Slowly, holding her still with his fists in her hair, he slid back until his cock fell from her lips. When she whined, he smiled. “Keep that up and this’ll end real soon.”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t look like we’re getting closer to the end.”
“One of us is.” A ragged laugh left him. “C’mere.”
Pulling her up onto her knees, he settled her hands on his chest. “Touch me, Lyse.”
He asked her to touch him so he could have free reign to do the same, she realized a second later when rough hands palmed her breasts. She could barely concentrate on the hills and valleys of masculine muscles in front of her, the sheer power beneath her palms and fingertips, when he was plucking her nipples, pinching, milking. One hand roamed along her scar, down the valley between her breasts, her ribs, up her back and then down. His grip on her ass cheek sent a thrill of excitement through her—the first time a man had touched her there, that anyone had touched her there. She hadn’t realized how sensitive it would be. Or how agonizingly close to the center of her torture it was. She wanted him between her legs, wanted him to lick her like she had him, to touch her, but most of all she wanted the hard length of him pushing inside her, giving her the ultimate pleasure a woman could find.
And if he didn’t do it soon, she really just might scream, audience or no audience.
She shifted, trying to get his hand closer to where she wanted it. “Fionn, please.” They’d just started, hadn’t they? So why did she feel like she couldn’t take much more without going insane?
His hand left her breast to cup her cheek, tilting her up for his mouth to meet hers. “What do you need?”
She couldn’t help a strangled laugh. “Is that even a question?” She dug her fingers into his lean hips, wishing she had the courage to slide around and explore his backside the way he had hers. “You know what I need.” He had to. Because if he didn’t, she was going to do it herself, and her fingers would be a poor substitute for his cock; she knew that from experience.
He put one knee on the mattress and used the weight of his body to push her backward until she collapsed onto the bed. “I’ll tell you what I need,” he said.
She might not live through that, but she didn’t argue, merely scrambled toward the head of the bed, her mouth going dry. “What’s that?”
This time it was Fionn doing the stalking, his eyes dark and intent, his body overwhelming, his cock thick and rock-hard where it dangled between his thighs. “I need to feck you. I need to push inside that body until you glove me tighter than anyone has before; I know you will. I know you’ll feel so good I’ll be breakin’ a sweat tryin’ to hold back, tryin’ to take it slow.” His accent thickened as he crawled over her legs. “I want to suck those pretty tits and feel you clench around me, feel you flood me with your pleasure, feel how slick and hot and tight you’ll get right as you’re about to come on my cock.”
He was above her chest now, his knees planting between hers, forcing them apart. Forcing her to give him access, to show him the most intim
ate part of herself. To trust him not to hurt her, to take care of her. And she wanted the same, no matter how hard her heart was beating or how tight her stomach suddenly was.
“I need to shove myself deep right as you let go, feel those muscles milk me.” He leaned right over her, his mouth coming to brush hers ever so gently. “And then I need to do it all over again.”
God, yes.
She couldn’t wait for him—she grabbed his head and brought it to hers. Her mouth opened to just the right angle, fitting to his, allowing his tongue inside like she’d kissed him a thousand times. In her dreams she had, but nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared her for the reality of Fionn’s gravelly voice in her ears, his tongue in her mouth, his stubble rasping her sensitive skin. His body coming down over hers. His weight was the best thing she’d ever felt in her life—until the head of his cock grazed her clit. She cried out into his mouth, her eyes going wide.
Fionn’s smile was the slightest bit strained. “I’ve got you, love. Don’t you be worryin’.”
He shifted to one side and reached for the nightstand. Inside the drawer he grabbed a small foil packet—a condom. The thought of birth control hadn’t even entered her mind. Stupid. But Fionn was taking care of her, just like she’d known he would.
A few seconds of fiddling and he got the condom on. She sucked in a breath, preparing for pain when he entered her, but not yet. Instead he leveraged a bit off her and brought his mouth to her breast again. Nipping and sucking. Biting. Exploring. Her eyes rolled back in her head—he was so good at that, it made her want to cry. And beg. And scream in pleasure. She couldn’t believe it could possibly get better.
Until his fingers slid along her slit, opening her up.
“Oh!”
Sharp teeth scraped her nipple. Two fingers began a slow massage around her clit.
“Fionn!” Her legs fell open without her command, opening her body even more, exposing herself to anything he wanted to do. Anything, if he just kept making her feel this way. “More, please. Please.”
“There’s always more where that came from, pretty wan. Always.” His fingers slipped inside her, just barely, pulled back out, circled her clit. Over and over and over, deeper and deeper each time. When she tensed in discomfort, he moved to her other breast and sucked her in, hard, until she moaned and arched her hips into his touch. Till she begged.
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 14
