As my tongue moves to find the sensitive flesh behind her ear, she gasps and writhes on the kitchen chair, her hands clutching the edges until her knuckles turn white. A fireball of need grows within me until I’m unable to contain my baser urges another second. It flares brighter and hotter, soaring toward the point of no return.
The sunlight peeking through the panes of the kitchen window hits Savie’s raven hair, transforming it into a fiery auburn color. I grasp the back of her head like she’s mine. Like I’ve always wanted to do to her. Instead of slapping my face, she moans and leans into me. I search her face and don’t see fear. I see passion and wild abandon.
“I want to feck yer, Savie.”
There’s no hesitation. “Yes.”
Chapter Fourteen
Savannah
I’m vaguely aware that I should stop this…stop him. But I can’t control the rays of heat that pulse through my body at his feather soft touches to my lips and neck. I want this. I want Ronan. Nobody’s ever been able to make me feel so much like a woman.
Claimed.
Besides, I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m a flesh and blood woman, nearly thirty. I’m never in the tabloids for anything outside of my slightly outrageous shopping habits. I’ll be able to handle a one-night stand with my burly mountain man, surely.
If I want something, nothing’s going to stop me from taking it. Ronan sweeps everything off the kitchen table with one swat of his massive arm. The clanging of silverware and the crash of the metal bowls reach my ears, but I barely acknowledge them over the rush of blood that pounds through them.
He lifts me by the waist as if I weigh nothing and places me on the edge of the plank table, never breaking contact with my lips. I’m wearing a cotton t-shirt, and he takes a hold of the V-neck and rips it from my torso. I shiver at the barely restrained power coursing through his body. He could break me in half and that fact isn’t lost on me. But it’s raw and exciting. And so not what I’m used to from men who normally capitulate to my every desire.
“Yer wearin’ too many clothes,” he rasps, putting his fingers in the cups of my bra and yanking them down to free my breasts for his hungry gaze.
I don’t reply, just lean back on my elbows to grant him greater access. He growls and reaches for my nipples, capturing the erect peaks in between his fingers. His nostrils flair as he pinches and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger and a rush of wetness floods my panties. It’s a fine line that dances between pleasure and pain, and I want them off before my core overheats.
A puff of breath escapes my mouth and fans across my shoulder as I stare at him, wondering what he’ll do next. What he’s really capable of. A shiver travels up my spine, and my nipples become impossibly hard nubs aching with a newfound pleasure at his manhandling.
“Sit up and turn ‘round,” he demands.
That isn’t what I want. “No.”
He reaches down and jerks me up against his rock-solid chest. “Don’t ever say nay to me again. I know what yer need, Savannah Starr. Don’t deny me the lesson I’m about to teach yer.”
He grips the back of my neck but doesn’t pull me in for a kiss like I thought he would. Instead, Ronan flips me around and places me back on my feet, knees wobbling as my back becomes flush with his front. He unbuttons the fly of my jeans, and since he’s unable to tear them off due to the thickness of the denim, he heaves them down my legs until I can step out of them. But the panties…they’re gone in one rip of antique lace.
“Better,” he growls into my ear. “Yer want me to lead. And as much as yer goin’ to deny it, I can smell yer surrender on yer.”
My heart gallops as he gives me a slight push to the small of my back, and I’m bent over the table before I even realize what’s happening. I’ve never been taken from behind like this before, and the suspense makes me crazy, ratcheting up my arousal to an uncomfortable level. I want to see his eyes, and he’s denying me the thing I want most in order to do things his way. It’s annoying and crazy hot all at the same time. Ronan O’Farrell is a conundrum of a man.
He continues pushing me forward until my flushed cheek meets the cool smoothness of the plank table, and I can feel the head of his cock searching for my throbbing pussy.
Dammit, just fuck me already. Make me yours.
“Do yer remember the time on Mateo when we were ridin’ in to town?” he asks, teasing me with his massive cock along with his words. “The day yer squealed yer pleasure so only the birds and the bears could hear yer?”
I squirm, wiggling my ass against him so I can tease him as much as he’s teasing me. “I thought you said there weren’t any bears in Ireland.”
He doesn’t answer my smart aleck comment, instead, he takes his huge hand and places it between my legs but doesn’t move it. I try to grind against it, but he tugs my hair again, an unspoken command to remain still and obey. I instinctually know that he’s just going to continue denying me what I want most. But I won’t beg.
Yet.
“It turned yer on, didn’t it? My hand right where ‘tis now, touchin’ yer wet heat.”
My dry mouth can’t seem to function enough that I can answer him. Another yank produces only a nod of my head.
“But that wasn’t enough, was it, Savie? That didn’t satisfy yer at all.”
He’s killing me with these damn questions. My pussy clenches and tries to draw him deep inside me. Ronan clucks his tongue and gives my rear a stinging little pinch.
“No,” I finally manage to spit out between ragged breaths. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room to keep my inhales from making me lightheaded. Or is that just Ronan and his dirty mouth, thick with brogue and demands that make me want to cater to his every whim?
“Tell me what else yer want,” he says, sliding one finger into my wet folds and holding it there. My clit throbs and aches. The only thing that’s going to take the exquisite pain away is the strength of my release, the one he’s not letting me have. Well, two can play at this sexy game.
Using all my strength, I push back against him. “I want you to slide your cock inside me and fuck me hard and fast. The harder the better.”
My heart seems to leap from my chest as I wait to see what he’ll do in response to my request. “Soaking wet, yer are. I like it, ‘cause I know I caused it.”
I moan and shove my hips backward again, and yet, Ronan remains still. He must have the patience of Job or the body control of a combat veteran. A rustle of fabric moves behind me and I hear him divest himself of his pants. He reaches around and fondles my breasts, pulling and rolling my nipples until I struggle against him. When is he going to put out the raging fire that can only be extinguished by his dick?
He grabs the head and pulls it through my wet folds. As my muscles clench with pleasure, he leans his hips forward and pushes into me less than an inch. He’s bare, and I know I should insist on a condom. But I trust him. Stupidly, I trust him, and God, it feels so good.
He’s trying to kill me with pleasure.
It’s been so long that I can feel my own tightness as I pulse around him, my pussy trying to suck him inside me all the way. My fingernails scratch down the wood until I slap my palms flat, welcoming the sting of the pain. Anything to distract my raging blood from how badly I want him to split me wide open and thrust hard.
After several moments where I imagine hurting him for denying me, he pulls back on my hips and slams forward, lodging his cock in so deep I can feel it in my torso, his hips remaining flush against my ass. I wiggle against him and delight in the answering moan of pleasure that tumbles from his lips.
I deliberately contract around him, squeezing and drawing him in even further. His next thrust is faster and sloppier. I’m making him lose control. I smile. Now, who’s the teacher and who’s the student? He’d do well to remember that I’m not one of his Wintervale tarts, set to jump to his bidding in bed and out of it. I can give as good as I get.
I give a strangled moan of my own as he picks u
p the right rhythm, hitting me in a place I didn’t even know I had. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and simply feel.
Feel him.
Feel everything.
He may have started out trying to dominate me. Let’s see how he feels when the roles are reversed.
Chapter Fifteen
Ronan
I feel her surrender.
Feel her ease down on the table, offering her body for me to take as I want.
And do I take, plowing into her, leaning down to press my lips to her ear. “Yer—”
Whack.
Stars explode in front of my eyes as she rears back and connects her head with my nose. Stunned for a second, I let go of her hair, and the minx twists away. But not for long.
Grabbing her by the waist, I push her against the wall, then press my front into her back. “Yer like playin’ rough, do yer?”
Her breath pants in and out of her lungs. “I like playing by my own rules.”
That’s funny, and I chuckle into her ear before taking the lobe between my teeth. Her hands clench into fists on the wall. Taking her wrists in my hand, I hold them over her head. With my free hand, I reach down and begin to touch her again. My fingers sink into her wetness, her body clamping down as I stroke. She tries to fight back but I stroke her harder, deeper. Faster.
“What are yer rules, Savie? What is this savage game yer play?”
She moans, and I feel the sound vibrate into my fingers. “I want you to kiss me. My breasts. My stomach. There.”
I freeze for a second. There? There where?
Unable to comprehend her words, I pull her from the wall, turning her until I can look into her eyes. “Yer are a strange woman, Savie Starr.”
She lifts her chin. “Are you going to talk all day, or are you going to make me come?”
The challenge in her eyes is interesting, exciting. “Mayhap I’ll do both.” She squeals as I take her back to the table. Bending her over it, I pin her upper torso down with my hand. “Here, there are nay rules but me own. Do yer understand?”
With a growl, I kick her feet farther apart, then wipe some of her hot wetness onto my cock. I wait for her to answer, and smile when she doesn’t. I’m a patient man, but from the sound of her breathing, patience isn’t one of her virtues.
I close my eyes when she finally submits again. “Please.”
Twist my hand in her hair again, I demand, “Please what?”
“Fuck me.” The words are low, raw. They make me smile.
“By whose rules?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yours. Only yours.”
Savie Starr wails as I slam into her, and I watch her pussy devour me as I enter her again in one smooth motion, my hips smacking her smooth arse cheeks.
Her gasp echoes through the room, and my heart hammers in my skull, pounding in my temples. God, she feels good, those tight muscles tightening around me like a fist.
I began to move in earnest, watching my cock slide in and out of her. I surge forward, my core and arse clenching and releasing with each profound stroke. Pulling her head back, my mouth finds hers.
This is strange. Kissing comes before fucking but not during the act. Never during. But I seem to be pulled to her lips, twisting her body until our mouths meet more fully.
Disconnecting our bodies, I flip her over until we’re face to face. Then we re-connect. Our mouths re-connect, our tongues dancing together. And I realize the rules have fallen away.
A loud groan fills the room, and I realize it came from me. Or maybe her. I don’t care, and it doesn’t matter. All that matters are her lips and eyes, and the way she’s looking at me as I pleasure us both.
“Ronan…” My name on her lips nearly pushes me to the edge, but I hang on with the tightest control of my will. Her legs begin to tremble, her core pulsing all around me…and she comes. Funny, seems I’ve never really noticed a woman’s clenching before this moment.
As she leaps into the depth of pleasure, she drags me with her, my body slamming then fusing to hers as my legs, balls, and gut are seized by my own climax.
Through my own release, I feel her coming. Hear her coming. Watch her coming.
Nothing has ever been so explosive in my life.
Finally, still panting, I ease down on top of her, supporting my weight with my elbows. Our lips touch, but we don’t kiss. Not exactly. We just stay together as close as two people are able.
“I like yer rules,” I whisper against her lips.
She smiles. “Oh Ronan, I haven’t even begun to bend you to my rules.”
I laugh and pull her up off the table to carry her to the bed. “Tis good ‘tis early yet. Yer can show me some of yers while I show yer some of mine.”
* * *
I’d rather have my fingernails pulled out with a pliers than do fecking laundry.
So, she better damn well appreciate it.
I rummage through my bedroom collecting items for a load when a flash of something sparkly peeks out from the opened zipper of Savie’s suitcase. Damn thing is made of leather and has some kind of symbol etched into it over and over again. Never seen the like. A warped curiosity drives me forward. After our night together, my mind lies in shambles and it’s like I can’t know enough about her and her strange ways.
What kind of man licks a woman’s pussy because he wants to? I’ve never even heard the like. Around here, my cock is worshiped as if it’s a statue of the virgin mother. I’m confused by her view of sexual relationships, and it’s not that I’m completely opposed. I just don’t understand it and want to know more. At least I think I do.
I lean against my bedroom wall and take a deep inhale. What I’m about to do is probably frowned upon, because I’m invading her privacy. But she’s a woman who walks around with sparkled knickers in her suitcase. That bears investigation. And furthermore, why does she have case upon case of them laying on my bedroom floor?
I nudge the suitcase with my foot, hoping that the top will dislodge more than an inch, and I can assuage my warped curiosity without moving anything and being accused of acting like a thief. Acting like a fecking chancer, I reach down and flip the leather over, exposing the colorful wardrobe of Savie Starr to my fascinated view. I’ve heard of sunglasses from my much more modern sister, and if I believed in them, I’d slap a pair over my aching eyes. There isn’t one thing in the fecking suitcase that isn’t bedazzled in some way. I’ve heard of that word from my worldly sister too.
“Savie!” I roar.
After a few tortured moments, I hear her booted feet trotting toward me.
“What is it, Ronan?” she asks, out of breath. “Is that damn bear in the house?”
The moment her gorgeous and flushed face pokes itself into the room, I point at the offending luggage. “What is that?”
She looks at me as if I’ve gone mad. “That’s my suitcase.”
I shake my head. “Nay. Not the suitcase. What’s inside it? What the feck is inside that thing?”
She rears back and purses those damn lips. I almost demand that she sink to her knees but first, I want to find out why clothes could possibly require shiny stones sewn in to every available surface.
“Those are my performance costumes,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m a singer/songwriter, Ronan. I perform for a living. You know that.”
“What is wrong with more conservative kit, woman?”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Her eyes flash fire, but before her feisty side rips free, I see a single moment of pain. I don’t own her. And yet…I feel like I own her. I want to own her. Body and soul.
But I’ll never admit it, even to myself. Doing so would show weakness.
Savie bends down and tenderly opens the suitcase, withdrawing one of the blinding items. It’s so full of flash, I can’t even tell what it is. She clutches the clothing to her ample chest and says something so muffled, her answer is lost within the blinding folds of fabric.
“This is my fa
vorite costume,” she says, eyes welling up with tears as she lifts her chin to face me. “I wore it two years ago when I won a Grammy for Best New Artist. My mom helped me pick it out. We don’t see each other enough since I moved to L.A. It’s why I named my guitar after her. Helen.”
I stand there, a complete fool, clutching my load of laundry to my own chest. I want to kneel down next to her and push that wayward strand of silky hair away from her face. I want to capture her lips in a searing kiss. This soft and vulnerable version of Savie is my favorite, compelling every cell in my body to protect her and keep her safe. Even if the threat to her health and happiness is me.
“What’s a Grammy?” I ask, never having heard of it before now. I’ve never owned a television, and try not to partake in the one at the inn. I’m assuming it’s some kind of award since she indicated that she won it.
“Only the most prestigious award in the entire music industry. Even people from your country covet them and want to win one. It will go down in history as the most epic moment of my life.”
I sigh and crinkle my brow in consternation. Her best moments have not yet come to pass. Of that, I’m certain.
“But yer ‘av not wed yet, Savie. Yer ‘av not birthed yer first child. Only then will yer truly know what epic moments really mean. Life is not about what a person obtains, ‘tis about experiences. Special moments where the passage of time seems to stand still.”
She places each hand on a saucy hip and gives me a stink eye that could rival Caris when she’s about to go all bleedin’ weapon on my arse. “You’re not married or a father, either.”
I puff out my chest because that ridiculous statement requires no further defense, and I’m not going to argue with her. “I’m nay woman.”
She huffs a breath from her mouth that causes her bangs to point toward the ceiling, mumbling something that sounds like “Chauvinist pig,” but I’m not sure. She goes back to re-arranging her outfits inside the case. I look around my bedroom, currently serving as Savie’s room, and realize she’s not the tidiest of house guests.
Solstice Song (Pagan Passion Book 1) Page 13
