Then he pushed all the way inside. Deep, just like he’d promised. He felt too thick, too long inside her—why were men’s hands so big?—but she clutched his head to her breast and raised her hips to meet him, wanting it, needing to get through this part so it could get even better. So much better. Eyes on the prize, Lyse.
When a third finger joined the rest, she flinched at the pinch of pain, sucking in a hard breath. “Fionn?”
“That’s it.” He pulled his fingers out and eased back in. “All good, love.” Straightening up, he brought his mouth to her ear. “I’m gonna come inside you, Lyse. So deep you’ll never get me out. I’m gonna ride you hard and make you scream, then come back for more.”
The words echoed in her head, created vivid, erotic pictures in her mind and sparks in her body. The pain became a distant memory. “Yes. Please. Now.”
And then his tip was against her again. Fionn straightened onto an elbow, his stare boring into her, green eyes glistening with determination and lust and a hunger so deep she couldn’t doubt that it was real. “Keep your eyes on me,” he told her.
She did. It was embarrassing and hot and the most intimate thing she could imagine two people doing, but she stared into his eyes and felt his cock slide inside her body. He filled her, and filled her, and filled her some more until she thought she would tear, the fit was so tight, but she didn’t. Fionn knew what he was doing. Her slick body welcomed him until he hilted deep inside, nudging her cervix in a way that both made her squirm and want to beg him to do it again. But he didn’t wait for her to beg; he slid out, then did it again.
“Fionn.” Pleasure tightened her throat, strangling his name. “Fionn.”
“I’ve got you.” His gaze held her, his hands gripped her tight, and his body invaded hers over and over, sending pleasure sizzling through her pelvis, up to her breasts, even down to her toes. And then came the moment when he shifted the slightest bit, thrust inside her—and something totally different sparked. Something breathtaking. Something very like what she’d felt when she’d made herself come in the past, but a thousand times brighter, a thousand times better. She clutched him to her and whimpered, and he did it again, a grin lighting his serious face.
“That’s it, Lyse. Come for me. Squeeze me tight and make me come with you. You feel so good, love. So good.” His breath was coming harder, faster, his thrusts too. “Get me wet and make me come, love.”
And when he thrust again, once, twice, and pressed a thumb hard against her clit, that’s exactly what she did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He’d been wrong.
His entire adult life, he’d thought he knew what sex was all about. He was “the Irish,” the man whose accent made panties drop and whose cock made women come the minute he gave it to them. He’d gotten his ride and he’d shot off too, just like his partners, but it had been all fun and games. Nothing serious, nothing involved beyond a few nights of pleasure, if that. Until this morning.
He stood just inside the closed door of their room, a damp cloth in his hand, and stared at the woman in his bed. She lay flat, sprawled without pillow or covers, a fan of dark, tangled hair spread out beneath her head. One arm at her side, one curled over her chest, palm flat on the silvery-pink scar that bisected her breastbone. Her knee was tilted to one side, allowing him a glimpse of pretty pink lips that still bore traces of blood he could see from where he stood—hence the cloth.
And yet he couldn’t seem to move from this spot. Couldn’t seem to do anything but stare at the woman who’d shattered every idea he’d had about what good sex could be.
She’d shattered him.
Even now, after she’d drained his balls of every drop they’d contained, he felt his cock stirring as his gaze traced her body. How he could have a semi after coming so hard he’d seen stars, he didn’t know, but… Lyse had always been special. It seemed that after so long denying it, his body wanted every last bit of sensation it could wring from her.
“Fionn?” She shifted onto her side, a wince hitting when she rolled over the wound along her ribs. That would be sore today, he knew. Though healing well, she’d just put a lot of effort into using those muscles. Her body would protest—and not just her ribs.
His name on her lips broke the spell holding him in place. “I’m right here, love.”
The word was a habit, like saying dear or hon. Did she know her face softened when he called her that? As if every time the endearment came from his lips, he was saying I love you; that’s how she looked. He’d never told any woman but his mam I love you, didn’t think, after the life he’d lived, the things he’d done, that he had love in him. And yet the melting in her eyes when he said it…love. That was love staring back at him. It had been love in her eyes when she’d surrendered to him.
Making love, not sex. He understood the difference now. He just didn’t know if he had it in him to return the emotion Lyse gave so freely.
Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, he crawled onto the bed and hovered over her sprawled body. “Let me be taking care of ya real quick.”
Except there was nothing quick about touching her. From the back of her neck to her belly, he traced every inch, clearing away sweat and memorizing the lines of her body. Between her legs, he came to his knees and shifted her legs out, exposing her. Cleaning her. Taking care of her. Lyse hissed at the rasp of fabric against her clit, her lips, but also lifted into him, seeking more. A quick glance showed her nipples tight and straining against the air.
Feck. His cock hardened at the sight. She was fighting it, he could tell, forcing her breath to stay even, her stare fixed on the ceiling as she concentrated—but her body didn’t know how to lie, not yet. She was too new to sex for that.
She had to be sore. He shouldn’t do this. But even as he thought it, he was dropping the cloth to the floor and pressing his palm over her mound, resisting the urge to sift through the neatly trimmed brown curls there. The weight drew a moan from deep in Lyse’s throat.
“You want me again,” he said, hoarse surprise in the words.
Her eyes squeezed shut, her head turning to the side. Hiding. Lyse always hid when what she wanted seemed to be too much. But it wasn’t too much to demand pleasure; he’d teach her that.
“Lyse, look at me.”
She shook her head, eyes still closed—until his thumb pressed hard on her clit. Still so sensitive, her body pushed up on instinct, searching for more. And God, he wanted to give her more.
“Look at me,” he demanded, circling his thumb. Her eyes lost focus as they sought him out. “Do you want me again, love? Because I can give you what you need. I don’t have to be inside you to pleasure you.” The words rang in his ears, and he realized they weren’t quite true. He was already inside her, deep inside where he didn’t think she’d ever get him out. Where he never wanted to leave.
“I do,” she whispered hoarsely.
He did too.
“Touch those tits for me.” Grasping her inner thighs, he shifted them farther out, far enough to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. Pink lips peeled open, and his mouth began to water.
In slow motion he lowered his head, gaze fixed on Lyse’s hands as they cupped her firm tits. Her fingers were small compared to his, and when they grasped her nipples, pinching, he could still see the very tips, watch as they turned berry red. He wanted them in his mouth, wanted that primal connection between breast and man and sex, driving deep inside the wet warmth of her body. But right now something else would have to do.
He opened his lips, his breath coasting over her skin. The first lick along her labia brought a shriek from her lips.
He grinned against her opening.
Another lick. Another cry of need. The scent of Lyse’s arousal filtered into his nose, and he traced over her with his tongue, one side, then the other, sucked her between his lips, stabbed his tongue gently inside. She was rocking her hips to the rhythm of his mouth. He stared along the length of her body, fascinated
, as she pulled at her nipples harder than he would have dared, stretching them, bringing herself a sharp pleasure-pain to counter the softness of his mouth on her core.
Only when she was groaning deep in her throat, the sound almost continuous, did he surround her clit with his lips and suck. Gently at first, coaxing her higher, then more strongly as her hips bucked beneath him, her heels pressing into the mattress to lift her harder into his touch. She was gorgeous in her need, fighting for her pleasure. Lyse overwhelmed him, the sight of her, the scent, the taste—he realized he was pressing into the bed as well, trying to ease the ache in his cock, dragging himself against the covers in rhythm to his mouth. So close; how could he be so close when he’d just taken her, just come like he’d never even realized he was capable of?
But he was. If he kept on this way, he would beat Lyse to the finish. This wasn’t supposed to be about him, but his damn cock seemed to have other ideas.
He flattened his tongue and stroked over Lyse’s clit hard, over and over.
“Fionn!” Her hands came down, her fingers digging into his hair. “Inside me,” she begged, panting for breath. “Please.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her clit swelled as his breath washed over it. Lyse shivered, goose bumps racing along her thighs. “I don’t care if it hurts. I want you inside me.” Her fingernails clenched against his scalp. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Don’t make me do this alone. I need you.”
She’d raised her head to stare down at him, and in those eyes he could see the truth. The hunger. The fear of flying without him after what they’d shared.
He couldn’t deny her.
Coming up to his knees, he scooted close until his balls met the wet warmth of Lyse’s opening. Wet—that’s what they needed. “All right, love.” He leaned down, nudged her hand away with his nose. “Give me that tit.”
She didn’t just give it to him; she presented it to him, cupped in her hand, nipple raised to the sky like it could stretch just the slightest bit more and actually reach heaven. Instead he brought heaven to it—clamped on, forced her nipple against the roof of his mouth, and sucked.
Moisture flooded his balls.
That’s it, love. He wanted her dripping, so wet she was drowning him. One hand went beneath her, arching her back to give him more access, more flesh in his greedy mouth. The lift slid her core along his cock, and his eyes literally crossed at the pleasure, a gasp choking off in his throat. So fecking close. But Lyse had asked him for something specific, and he’d keep his promise to give it to her. He hoped. He was right at the edge when her hands clawed down his back to grab his ass, forcing him closer.
“Fionn, I swear to God…please!”
Thank feck. She was ready.
Pulling back, he wrangled on a condom, positioned his cock at her entrance, and pushed inside. A spasm of pain crossed Lyse’s face, but she didn’t stop pulling him closer, didn’t stop begging. Only when he hilted, his balls drawn up tight, ready to spill, did he stop.
“Look at me, love.” He didn’t know why, but he needed to see her face, to share that moment when she went over the edge and he could see all the way down into the depths of her soul.
Her eyes met his.
“Touch yourself,” he said, hoarse and low. “Let me see those nipples go red. You’ve got the prettiest tits, have I told you that? Did I tell you how they make my mouth water? How I spend half my time staring at your body and wishing I could tear the clothes you’re wearing off so I can be seeing those fecking gorgeous tits bounce and sway for me?” He took her clit between thumb and finger just as she did her nipple. “I could spend all day playing with them, sucking them, biting them.”
Lyse’s body clenched around his.
“Tell me, love,” he whispered. “Tell me what it feels like with me this deep inside. Tell me how I’m filling you up until you can’t breathe, until you think you’ll die if I don’t feck you. Tell me.” He wanted her voice, her eyes, her body, her breath—everything. He wanted her to belong to him.
“So full, Fionn.” Her voice rasped with need, with a touch of pain and an avalanche of hunger. “I need you to move. I need you deeper.” A flush of pink rose from her chest to her cheeks, but she kept talking, trying to obey, trying to please him. “Your cock is soft. And hard. You set off every nerve ending in my body, but when you hit the end of me, when you’re so deep inside I can’t feel anything but you… God.”
Not God. Master. He was her master in this moment, taking her over with the slightest pulses of his hips and the rubbing of her clit and the command of his gaze on her.
“I want…” She gasped as he twisted her clit lightly between his fingers. “I want more. I want—” This time her fingers were the ones that twisted, pinching her nipples hard. “More, damn it!”
His gut clenched, a shot of sensation racing down his spine to his sac. He couldn’t wait any longer.
The next thing he knew, he was pumping into her hard, in and out, his fingers busy on her clit, his gaze latched on to the rising crest of hunger and fear and wonder in her eyes. He watched until her breath stopped, until she bore down against him. Until the tiny nub beneath his touch pulsed, her body clenched around his, and he knew she’d gone straight to the heavens between one moment and the next. Only then did he follow her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The water hit her square in the face, shocking her dazed brain awake in an instant. She stood beneath the shower and shivered, waiting, repeating every curse she’d ever heard her coworkers say, until the water slowly warmed to an acceptable temperature. Until her body stopped shivering and the heat began to seep into muscles that ached like she hadn’t known they could ache before. Hell, if she’d had a handheld, she’d have that sucker between her legs in a minute, right where the ache was worst.
But she’d asked for it, right?
The thought brought a grin to her face. A big, wide, sloppy, stupid grin. She’d done a lot more than ask—she’d demanded. And she’d gotten everything she demanded, plus so much more.
Fionn hadn’t let her sleep for a long time this morning. Between the lack of sleep and the sex, she felt like a zombie, but there was work to do. Fionn and Mack were scouting a possible location for Ferrina tonight, and she was launching the new program she’d written, one that would sift through the mounds of financial records she’d collected faster than she could, find the patterns buried there. Hopefully find the money Robert had hidden.
Without warning the door to the shower opened, letting in a wash of cool air and one very big Irishman. A shot of adrenaline hit Lyse before her brain registered who her guest was. “Fionn?”
As if it would be anyone else, but…zombie. She sagged against the wall, then let out a yelp when the cold tile chilled her skin. “What are you doing in here?”
His grin offered no apologies. “Joining you.”
Joining her. Of course he was. Stupid question.
She hadn’t realized her hands were covering her breasts till Fionn grasped her wrists and dragged them down. “You’re spoilin’ the view.” Holding her hands to either side, out of his way, he bent to run his stubbled cheek along her nipples, which came to hard points just for him.
A wave of heat rose up her neck, her cheeks. Fionn chuckled, the vibration sending a tingle through her breast and down between her legs.
Before he could see just how much his touch affected her—though wasn’t it a bit late for that?—Lyse moved back into the stream of water, closing her eyes as it poured over her head, trying to ignore Fionn’s hands as they began to roam. Except he didn’t go for the obvious spots; he went for her hips, her butt, her thighs. All the places he’d made ache throughout the day, he was massaging. As if he knew…
Well, of course he knew. He’d done this often enough.
Stop thinking about it, Lyse.
She couldn’t hold things he’d done before he was with her against him. Well, she could, but that wasn�
��t who she wanted to be. Who she wanted them to be. She had a past too, albeit nothing to do with sex—much worse, she’d almost gotten him blown up. She didn’t want him holding that against her, and she needed to do the same.
But right now she needed to hurry. There were things to do. Important things.
The scent of her shampoo hit her at the same time as the click of the lid on the bottle. “Tilt your head back for me,” Fionn said. His voice was rough after sleep, gravelly, like he’d used it all night—or like he’d been growling and groaning and calling her name. And he had. She shivered at the memories even as she obeyed him.
No one had ever washed her hair but the corner hairdresser, and since she had straight, long hair, she didn’t even do that very often. Fionn’s thick fingers massaged the soap along her scalp, just like he’d massaged her hips and thighs, working the soap through her hair. When he took the weight of her head in his hands and dug his fingers in, she couldn’t hold back a moan.
“Feels good, yeah?” he asked. “One day I’ll let you wash mine.”
Her heart skipped a beat. One day… One day was in the future. She’d known he enjoyed last night, but he was talking about a future. For them. Holy—
Breathe, Lyse. Breathe.
Turning her around, Fionn began to rinse the soap from her hair. She kept her eyes tightly closed for protection…and to hide the sheer giddy excitement rising inside her. A future. She and Fionn, together.
“Now what’s that grin about?”
She wiped the water from her eyes, then looked up at him. Were there hearts in her eyes? She felt like there must be. “Nothing.” Moving close, she dared to place a kiss on his pec, right next to a taut nipple. “I’ll wash your hair anytime.”
Destroy Me (Southern Nights: Enigma Book 3) Page 15
