The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “Close your eyes, Ciara,” he whispered against my nape, and my breathing started to get hoarse, and deep.

  I closed my eyes and he ran his hands over the front of my waist, feeling the contours of my body, still wrapped in the lace. He pushed his groin against my rear and I felt how aroused he was already, without either of us having taken our clothes off.

  “What’s your underwear tonight?” he asked, his voice husky, his breathing so far controlled but slower than normal, demonstrating how being in control made him feel.

  “Only satin panties. The dress has built-in cups.”

  His hands moved, feeling around to discover whether it was a thong or full panties.

  It was a thong.

  “Let’s take you to the dressing table first.”

  He sat me down in front of the dressing table and in the mirror, I saw a vague, smudged vision of myself through bleary, lust-fuelled eyes. My cheeks were a hazy red, my mouth open and ready for a kiss.

  He stood behind me and unpinned my hair, letting it sit around my shoulders in waves. He brushed through my curls with soft strokes, adoring me.

  He turned me to the side so he could kneel between my legs and opening a packet of face wipes, he cleaned my make-up off. Holding his hard shoulders as he tended to me, I wanted absolutely nothing more than for him to rip my clothes off and do what he wanted with me.

  Instead he was going to torture me with longing.

  Even when I tried to reach forward and undo his tie, he backed away with a smile, his teeth shining so bright I couldn’t see anything but those. When I pouted, he pouted, and I saw a smile in his eyes so gorgeous and so happy, I felt love fill my body from my bottom to my top.

  Desperate to whisper I love you, I held back, knowing there would be a moment for that later when it would mean more.

  “Dante, what are you going to do with me?”

  “Love you,” he murmured, “very, very slowly.”

  He took out my earrings, slipped off my bracelet and my necklace.

  “Stand up for me, Ciara.”

  I did so and again, he stood behind my back. Glancing into the dressing-table mirror, I saw his reflection, fixated on my back.

  With slow, sure fingers he unbuttoned the top three buttons holding the lace together which met at the nape of my neck where the keyhole open-back dress looked most pretty.

  The top exposed, he opened the material and kissed along my shoulder, then the other. Pressing my hand against his thigh, I wriggled back into his groin and sighed, my eyes closing of their own accord.

  “You are so very beautiful, Ciara.”

  His lips travelled my upper back, kissing and stroking, his nose sliding across my skin. One of his hands held the side of my waist tight, where my hip met my midriff, and his other hand came up to my breast to squeeze the swell of flesh there. As his hands took me and I caught sight of the gold band flashing bright on his wedding finger, I decided no other part of him had ever seemed sexier than that part wearing my ring.

  Arching into his hold, I begged, “Dante, please.”

  “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. Be patient, my love.”

  I whimpered and was soothed at the same time.

  His hands moved to the buttons at my lower back and slowly, he undid the button loops, one at a time.

  When he got to the last one, just past the swell of my bottom, he dropped to his knees and slowly licked the dimples.

  “Uh,” I groaned, reaching for the chair in front of the dressing table to hold onto.

  His hands moved inside the dress and held my hips as he kissed my exposed buttocks and my lower back.

  I pulled the front of my dress down my arms and it began to slide off once he moved his hands out of the back.

  Pooled at my feet, the lace looked elegant and at rest, whereas I felt anything but. My senses heightened in every way possible, I wanted reassurance – just one word to signify I had the green light to love him back.

  “Step out,” he said, and I walked forward to step out of the dress.

  I watched over my shoulder as he gathered my gown, taking a deep inhale of it against his face before carefully placing it over the back of the dressing-table chair.

  “Turn around,” he said, standing before me, and I walked into his arms.

  He lifted my leg around his hip and before I knew it, he had me hoisted into his arms, my legs around him.

  His green eyes flickered and rove my near-naked body with dark desire. I tightened my legs around him as he walked me back against the same wall the headboard stood up against.

  Staring at my lips, he whispered, “Ask me, Ciara.”

  “Kiss me, Dante.”

  His smile was one of satisfaction and he leant down and nudged his lips into my open mouth, taking my top lip between his. Sucking gently, he groaned and I flicked out my tongue, trying to encourage him to give me more. My hands had naturally fallen on his shoulders but suddenly remembering I now had access to his hair, too – I reached my hands into his locks and tugged at his beautiful blond curls.

  Dante stole my mouth for a bruising kiss, pressing me hard into the wall. After he left an imprint on my mouth I wouldn’t forget easily, he slid down to find the most erotic points of my throat – my hollow, below my ear, where my neck met my shoulder, and back up to my jaw and all along my mouth, back and forth, little pecks across my cheeks too.

  Unwilling to play his servile woman forever, I caught his shirt in my hands and tore it apart, his buttons spiralling, his eyes furious so that I knew I’d bought access to him on the never-never.

  “Such a naughty virgin, Ciara.”

  “I’ve waited so long. I can’t wait any longer!”

  He undid his tie and shrugged off the shirt, his hand at his belt and zip next. After he was left in just his boxers, he walked me to the bed and lay me beneath him.

  His cock wedged between my legs beneath his boxers, my slip of a thong the only other barrier, he said to me, “Do you know what the sexiest thing about your body is?”

  “No?” I smiled.

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “My arms around it.”

  I had no time to think as he immediately pulled me close and slid his lips along mine, delivering me a shockingly sensual kiss, his tongue licking mine, then delving under my lips, his teeth nibbling and biting, seeking, his hands roving to my breasts and arse.

  “Want to know the sexiest thing about your body?” I gasped as he sucked my nipple into his face.

  “What?” he mumbled.

  “Your body can come inside mine.”

  He growled and slid down the bed, ripping the knickers in two. Tossing my legs open, he licked along the length of my sex without apology, without finesse. I spread my thighs wide and held his head to me, stroking his hair, stroking his hands as they moved around my thighs and belly.

  “Yes, Dante. Oh god, yes!”

  Euphoria bubbled from the centre of my stomach outwards and I came when he scissored his tongue up and around my clit. Fists in his hair, I made him drink it all as I became wetter than wet.

  Calm beyond compare, I lolled in the centre of the bed, eyes half-shut as I absorbed and enjoyed the aftermath of pleasure. He brought my ankle to his lips to kiss it and I opened my eyes further to find that he’d removed his boxers at some point and now sat naked on the bed beside me.

  Getting up, I lazily straddled his lap and stroked my fingers up and down his solid, pumping cock, so hard I could hardly bend it forward to put him inside me.

  “Wait,” he whispered, “I want to test a theory.”

  Pressing my lips together, I asked, “What?”

  “Come with me.”

  He walked me to the full-length mirror and stood me in front of it. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms all around me.

  “Sexy, yes?”

  Watching as his solid arms held me, protected me, his fine, downy hairs contrasting with the stark hairlessness of my own body, I had to admit the sexiest thing
about my body right then was having his arms around my body.

  “Your arms are fantastic, I love a man’s arms, especially yours,” I muttered, leaning back into him, “but I also love your smile, your hair, your voice, how you laugh, how you smell, how you hold me, how you bite me, taste me, hold me in the night, how you caress and stroke and whisper against my ear you’re going to have me…”

  Suddenly I was pulled back against him hard and his hand slid down to stroke my clit. He was holding me up, intent on pulling another orgasm from me.

  He sucked at my shoulder, making a love bite there, and I watched in the mirror as someone vaguely resembling me got off with the fingers of an Adonis stroking her clit like he was strumming the strings on a guitar. Coming hard around his finger, I turned my mouth into his neck as I breathed through it, my teeth against his skin as I seethed with pleasure.

  He took me to the bed, positioning me at the edge on all fours so he could stand on the floor behind me and still reach me.

  “Let’s see whose theory was better. Arms or cock?”

  “Cock,” I breathed, almost begged.

  I looked to the side and saw him slide into me, our reflection in the mirror heightening my arousal even more. I could barely breathe with the feeling of fullness in my belly. Dante had never been this hard.

  A couple of thrusts had him almost buried fully inside me, his tight balls pushing up against my arse. He dared me to ask for more when he moved his hips slowly into mine.

  He held my bum cheeks open and pushed deeper, goading me to beg for more. I no longer needed to beg, though. I had him inside me and that was always enough.

  “What’s sexier, Ciara?”

  “You inside me… always.”

  “I agree.”

  “You always come round to my way of thinking.”

  “So what do you want now, Ciara?”

  “Passion… and fire. I want it all. I’m not a virgin. I’m your queen. I’d die for you. I love you more than any woman has ever loved a man. I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  He turned me over and gathered me in his arms, carrying me further up the bed, into the cushions, my body no longer hanging off the edge – our reflection in the mirror gone from view.

  Dante pulled my legs around his back and put my hands on his arse, instructing me how to be, how to hold him. I knew it made him harder having my hands on his arse.

  “Tell me again, Ciara. Our eyes are inches from one another’s. My mouth is ready to capture yours. Tell me again, like this. I need to hear it, I need it more than anything.”

  “I love you, Dante Sinclair.”

  “Mrs Sinclair,” he murmured, before sealing our vows with a kiss, his hips rocking into my belly at the same time.

  He did that thing I loved where he thrust into me at only a shallow depth until he felt himself connect with my G-spot, then he’d push as deep as he could to halt my orgasm. He repeated the process over and over, edging me all the time. My hands remained clutched around his arse, digging into the solid steel muscles of his body, feeling the power and drive he possessed as he moved over me.

  I didn’t want it to be over already so I held out on coming even though I desperately wanted to. The build-up of pressure inside me had me panting and sweating, my face stinging with heat, my lower back and thighs straining to contain my need.

  “I know what you need,” he said, “a different position.”

  He pulled me with him until we sat in the middle of the bed, me across his lap.

  “Take some deep breaths, Ciara. I want your biggest orgasm to be with me… together.”

  My eyes closed, I took some deep breaths and nodded, calming myself. I wanted nothing more right then than to come screaming his name, come screaming around his cock, come… and come… and come.

  It hurt not to come.

  “I’m so close, baby,” he whispered, kissing and touching my breasts, whispering against them, “I want us to come together, properly. Emotionally.”

  “Yes, I want to as well.” I held my hands in his hair, eyes still closed, constantly trying to control myself. Just a slight nudge against my clit would have made me come.

  He let his legs go flat and the change from them being slightly raised to flat made him sink deeper inside me. I moaned and panted fast, trying to control my need.

  Stroking his hands along my arms, he told me, “I love the way you look at me, the way you smile, the look you give me when you’re mad, the look you give me when you’re happy, the look you give me when you’re in need like you are now.”

  He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips and I let my guard down, showing him how much in need I was. A tear fell from my eye, his love so strong, I could hardly bear it.

  “I love the sound of your voice and your hearty laugh, I love the way you love and the way you dream, and most especially, I love you enclosed and surrounded by me, because it makes me feel safe… and it makes me feel free to love, like I was never free before you.”

  My arms around his neck and my hands around his head, I moved closer and rolled slowly over his cock, slowly and carefully. Our eyes glued to one another’s, I felt a fire rise inside me, a love so strong I couldn’t contain it. I bit his top lip and sucked it, flicked at his tongue like he flicked at mine, and kissed repeatedly the cupid’s bow of his beautiful mouth which stubble had begun to decorate, since the last time he shaved was hours and hours ago.

  One hand pressed against the bed, he used it to lever himself slowly into me for a deeper angle and the pressure built like that, slowly and in sync, his other hand gently guiding my lower back.

  I kissed his shut eyes and his sharp cheekbones, kissed his forehead and his brow.

  “I love you so much, Dante. My heart could burst.”

  Our sweaty bodies continued like that, circling, feeding off one another, slowly taking and giving. I was enjoying something I felt sure was tantric, a constant feeling of being on the cusp, on the edge… but something unreal would have to happen to bring me to the explosion my body craved.

  He lay down on his back and instructed, “Ride me hard, Ciara. I’m so ready for you.”

  Placing my hands on his chest, I began to roll over his cock, feeling the pressure build inside me immediately. Closing my eyes, I gave myself over to the feeling of warm wetness and need… and necessity. Growing braver by the moment, I took him in long, deep strokes and slammed down on him every time. He held my hips but not to guide me, just to show he was with me.

  “I’m going to come so hard inside you, tell me when to come, Ciara.”

  “I’m so close.”

  His body slaved under mine, his head hitting the pillow each time I fucked him, drove myself over him.

  His eyes squeezed shut, his fingers dug harder into my body and I knew he was on the cusp of exploding inside me. Now our time was finally here, I could barely find it in myself to come. My nerves on overdrive, I needed a little something soft, a little something gentle to bring me to finishing.

  I kept holding off because I consciously or subconsciously knew that coming this hard was going to break me and shatter me into a million pieces.

  “Fucking hell, Ciara. Harder.”

  I smashed down on him harder and harder, taking him deeper and deeper, my pelvis hot and heavy around him, all the spare space in my belly used up.

  The art of the female orgasm wasn’t easy and a part of me began to think I shouldn’t have held off for so long earlier, because now I only wanted to come – and I couldn’t.

  “I need you to fuck me,” I whispered, and he shot up into my arms, throwing me over onto my back, hearing my call – my prayer. I wanted him to show me how much he wanted me and my body.

  He tossed my legs over his shoulders and pinned me down. I felt his cock thicken and his balls bulge against my arse and I saw blackness and stars and no colour whatsoever as I spaced out, and died, in that moment. Something about his control of me made me come instantly and I saw for the first time ho
w it was in giving up that control that we both found peace and serenity, exactly like this. In giving ourselves up to one another.

  “Ah, Ciara,” he growled, his cries pouring into my ears, his chest puffing and panting as he howled his pleasure from deep within.

  I clutched onto him and he broke out into a dripping sweat as he came shooting so hard inside me, I felt him flood my belly, a volcanic warmth pouring into me and filtering through the rest of my soul.

  He continued emptying into me and I trembled and contracted around him over and over, drawing him into me, his love all around me as he finished coming and gathered me to him, rolling us both over onto our sides.

  He kissed my lips and stroked strands of wet hair off my face. He pulled me onto his body and into his chest, cradling me tight. I wrapped my hands around his solid arms and melted into his touch, like nothing evil existed in the world, and nothing could ever be wrong at times like this. I kissed his arms while he kissed my hair and we caught our breath eventually.

  “I’m bone-deep exhausted now,” I groaned, and he wiped tears of joy from my eyes.

  “Then I did my job,” he chuckled, and wrapped me in his arms and legs.

  ***

  I shot up in bed, gasping, my skin slaked with sweat – my groin burning. My heart pounded. My blurry vision cleared and I saw I was nowhere near any sort of cottage, nor was I married… nor was I in Ireland. I was in another country entirely, not even England. It was the surroundings of an alien room I woke up to, not my marital bed, not anything familiar or calming. Just a room. A place to hide.

  I’d had the same recurring dream three nights in a row now and it always made me reluctant to fall asleep – knowing that for a time I’d believe the dream, but then wake to find it was impossible.

  It was the same hope I’d always had – dashed – whenever I woke to realise that a life of peace and quiet with Dante was impossible.

  Throwing off the sheets, I walked to the bathroom, splashed my face and drew myself a glass of water – all without the light on. I couldn’t stand to look at myself, not right now, not when all I did all day was cry and beat myself up about finally having done it…