by Sybil Bartel
“No.” I’d already heard enough. She was placing my past before her safety, and I wasn’t having it.
“Ronan.” Stating my name with exasperation, she sighed. “I know you want to protect me, but if we don’t catch him, I’ll be living like this, we’ll be living like this for who knows how long.”
If living like this kept her alive, I didn’t give a fuck how long we did it.
Her eyes narrowed. Then her gorgeous accent came out. “No, you don’t get to be thinking that. I saw that thought pass through your head. Do you want to be fighting with Vance like this and getting under each other’s skin for eternity? Do you think I want to be at the center of that, hearing your bickering?”
Her mesmerizing voice, seeing the glimpse of the woman I knew she would become all those years ago, knowing she had nothing on underneath her dress, my cock hardened. “Are you sore?”
“I…” She blinked. “What?”
“Have you had sex since you lost your virginity?” She’d been so damn tight, and while she’d submitted to me beautifully, I’d tasted her inexperience.
She crossed her long, graceful arms, and her honeyed skin glowed against her off-white dress. With her thick, black hair in soft waves around her face, and her cheeks flushed, she’d never looked more beautiful. But she didn’t answer me.
I took a step toward her. “I asked you a question.”
“Oh, I heard you.” She stood her ground, but the confidence in her stance a moment ago gave way to unease. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“You don’t want to talk about fucking?” Choosing my exact wording because I knew exactly what it would do to her face, I pushed.
Her cheeks blushed stunningly. “The Ronan I knew didn’t speak this way.”
Not to a seventeen-year-old I didn’t. “Forget who you think I was. I’m here now, and this is who I am. I want to know if that sweet cunt of yours is sore, and I want to know exactly how many times you’ve had sex.”
Her face still beautifully flushed, she looked me directly in the eye. “Why?”
Because I wanted to fuck her again. Because I didn’t want to scare her off. Because I wanted to convince her I should be in her life. “So I know what I’m dealing with.”
“How many women have you been with besides me?” she challenged as if I wouldn’t answer.
“Thirteen.” My gaze not wavering, I didn’t sugarcoat. “Three before you, ten after.” Fully aware those ten women after her were a self-induced obsession that kept me from moving on, I didn’t tell her the significance of the number.
Hurt slashed across her face, and she turned away from me to stare out at the storm.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Sanaa.”
“I asked the question. I’m not blaming you for the answer.”
Yes, she was. “This isn’t a fairy tale, not for us.” Nothing about my life was. Hers, maybe. But she didn’t look happy. She hadn’t at any moment since I’d walked back into her life, with the exception of a moment ago when she’d looked at me while everyone was standing around us. The look in her eyes then, that’s what I was banking this whole conversation on.
“We could’ve been,” she quietly said to a view of the ocean neither of us would’ve been able to afford ten years ago.
“Could we have?” Fingering a strand of her soft hair, I wrapped it around my hand and stepped behind her. The top of her head fitting perfectly under my chin, she leaned back.
“Yes.” She shivered. “Maybe.”
I inhaled the exotic perfume she wore now. “You know what I think?” I missed how she used to smell, like innocence, hope and mine.
“No,” she whispered, naturally bending into my body.
Grasping her waist, still holding her hair, I pressed my hips into hers. My eyes closed, and I breathed in the fantasy of her being mine. “I think I don’t give a fuck about the past.” Opening my eyes, I scanned the empty beach. “I think I’ve got fifty minutes to sink inside your tight cunt and make you say my name.”
Her next breath came fast and sharp, and her knees trembled.
Turning her around, I braced my hands on either side of her head on the glass slider and leaned down until my mouth was almost touching hers. “Do you know what else I think?”
Her dark, sexy eyes intent on mine, she barely shook her head.
“I think you’re lucky the weather’s deteriorating, and there are no paparazzi on the beach.” As possessive as I was feeling, I almost wished there were.
“Why?” she asked, breathless.
I grabbed the hem of her dress. “Because they would’ve gotten a career-changing shot.”
“Ronan.” Her small hands landed on my biceps, and her eyes searched my face, but she didn’t say any more.
“Speak,” I ordered.
“What are you doing?” Her throat moved with a nervous swallow, and her voice quieted. “What are we doing?”
The silk of her dress already bunched in my hand, I dragged the material higher up her thigh. “I’m going to fuck you, then move you to a more secure location. Then I’m going to find Abernathy and end this.”
“And after?” she barely whispered.
“I’m going to take you for a ride.” On the Carver.
“When?”
I fought a smile. Not where or what kind of ride, just when. “After your concert.” Hitching her dress to her waist, I dragged the back of my hand across her smooth stomach and fished for information. “Are you stepping back from performing?” I traced an invisible line from one hip to the other, loving the soft swell of her stomach.
Her eyes fluttered shut. “I’m quitting.”
I dropped my hand lower. “Why?” I slid my fingers through her already wet folds and teased her clit. “You love singing.”
She moaned softly.
The sweet sound a straight hit to my cock, I pulsed painfully. “That’s not an answer.” I teased her clit again.
“I… oh God.” Her nails dug into my arms.
I sank a finger inside her, but then I stilled my hand. “You what?”
She ground her hips.
Cupping her with my finger inside her, I squeezed hard. “That’s not an answer.”
“I like to sing,” she rushed to explain. “But I’m tired of performing.”
“Good girl,” I murmured, rewarding her answer with my thumb on her clit while I slid a second finger inside her. “What do you want to do instead?” She’d always been restless as a teen. As much as I selfishly wanted her to myself, I couldn’t imagine her being content with being retired at twenty-seven.
Her body arched, and her head fell back against the glass slider as I stroked her. “Ronan.”
Jesus, she was beautiful.
Grasping her nipple through her dress, I skimmed my mouth across her neck to her throat. “Tell me what you want, Songbird.”
“You.” Her hips moving, her chest heaving, she groaned. “I want you.”
“And?” I demanded, wanting more from her than I’d ever dreamed at twenty.
Her hands fisted in my hair, and my Songbird yanked to get my attention.
I lifted my head to meet her gaze.
“I want everything, Ronan. Everything.”
HE SURGED LIKE A RUSHING storm, and all at once, he was everywhere.
His lips on mine, his hands on my body, he lifted me up, and my back hit the glass.
I gripped two handfuls of his hair as my legs went around his waist, and I kissed him as desperately as he kissed me. All at once, a memory of our first kiss came back. He’d cupped my face like he was doing now, but the brush of his sweet kiss followed by the gentle stroke of his tongue to get me to open my mouth was nothing like this.
He wasn’t merely kissing me now, he was devouring me.
Making my stomach flutter and my body tremble for more, he stroked his tongue through my mouth as his hips surged, and I felt every inch of his hard length against my bare sex.
Moaning, kissing him ba
ck but needing to tell him what was in my heart, I pulled away just enough to speak. Except instead of the beautiful lyrics of the love songs I sang, inexperienced words came out. “No one makes me feel like you do.”
His mouth moved to my neck as his hips thrust again. “They better not.”
“I need more,” I pleaded as heat hit my cheeks. “Like before.”
The growl crawled up his throat, and his mouth slammed back over mine. His hand left my face, and he gripped the material of my dress where the spaghetti strap met the front. Then he yanked.
The dress ripped, and cold air touched my breast.
I gasped, and he thrust.
My back banged against the glass from the force of his hips, and he ripped his lips away from mine.
“No,” I protested, but a second later, his mouth was on my breast.
His teeth captured my aching nipple, and the heated sensation shot straight to my core. “Ronan.”
He ripped the other side of my dress. “You like it rough, Songbird?” His mouth found my other nipple.
Gripping his impossibly soft hair as his hard, wet mouth did things to my nipples I’d only ever heard about, I dug my heels into his back and spoke from the heart. “I love every way you touch me.”
His tongue swirled around my nipple, but then he pulled back and looked into my eyes with an almost stern expression. “Trust me?”
“With my life.” With my heart.
Nodding once, his intense gaze not wavering, he issued a command. “Arms around my neck.”
Reluctantly letting go of his hair, I did as he said.
“Good girl,” he murmured, snaking his arms under my legs, and taking my full weight as he stepped back from the window.
Ronan had always been strong. The muscles in his body had always been defined, but now, as a man, his arms, his thighs, they were much bigger than when he was twenty. And he wore his strength differently. Now he carried himself like a warrior.
His strides sure, his hold tight, his eyes never leaving mine, he walked us into the bedroom.
The erratic, frenzied beat of my heart turned into a double tap firing so quickly that it pulsed in my ears. I wanted to tell him I was nervous. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to tell him I hoped I was already carrying his child, but I said none of it.
I waited with bated anticipation as he carefully set me on my feet in front of the bed.
I kept my words as he stepped back only enough to lift his shirt over his head.
I held still as his gaze took in my bare breasts while he undid his belt and unzipped his pants.
But when he stroked himself through his fitted black boxers as he stepped out of his boots, I bit my bottom lip with heated eagerness.
“You waiting to see me, Songbird?”
I was. “I am.” I’d never seen him naked.
He stroked himself again as he kicked his pants away. Giving his hard length one more pass from base to tip, he slid his boxers off.
Instinctually and without thought, I dropped to my knees. My hands braced on his thighs, and my ripped dress pooled around my waist as I stared at the hard, huge length of him.
I licked my lips.
His palm landed on my throat in sheer dominance, then he slid his hand up and cupped my face. “Oh, Songbird, if you put your mouth on me, I’m not going to be able to make love to you.”
A drop glistened at the end of his penis, and I didn’t think.
I leaned forward, and my tongue swirled over the head as I captured his salty musk. I didn’t know what I expected, but once I tasted him, my core constricted painfully and I couldn’t stop myself. I put my mouth on him.
His deep groan filled the space around us as his hold on my face dropped to my jaw and tightened. He fisted himself, but then he abruptly pulled back. Before I could protest, he brushed the tip of himself across my lips. “I’ve fantasized about this moment more than you could possibly imagine.”
Insecurity suddenly seized my chest, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. “I’ve never done this.”
With his eyes dark and intense, and his gaze locked on me, he stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You don’t know how happy that makes me.”
“What if I do it wrong?”
“Open,” he quietly commanded as he brushed across my lips again, but with more pressure.
I did as he said.
He eased the entire head of his hard length into my mouth.
Opening wider to accommodate him, I swirled my tongue against the ridged underside and greedily sucked more of him in.
His hand grasped my face tight as he wordlessly commanded me to hold still.
For one heartbeat, with my eyes locked on his, I held my breath and my tongue.
His nostrils flared then with a controlled, clipped movement he nodded once. My heart leapt and his fingers slid into my hair, forcefully gripping the strands as he pushed in deeper.
Wetness flooded between my legs and I moaned.
“You’re already doing it right, Songbird.” Sliding back an inch, he pushed in again. “So fucking right.”
Bolstered with newfound confidence, I eagerly sucked as I swirled my tongue and marveled at the sheer size of him. I couldn’t believe that I was able to take him into my mouth, let alone fit him inside me.
But more than that, being on my knees, giving him pleasure, watching him as he watched me, something vast and consuming grew in my heart I couldn’t explain. More than love, more than belonging, I felt a sense of control I couldn’t explain, because I was anything but in control. His hand gripping my hair, holding me captive, guiding me as I kneeled submissively at his feet, I was completely at his mercy.
Except it felt like control.
A kind of control I’d never gotten from sparring or even being on stage. This was more intimate, more about me, not about the music or my fans or my voice—this was about us.
And him.
What he was giving me by letting me pleasure him.
It felt so right, my eyes welled and spilled over.
“That’s it, Songbird. Let go.” He gripped me even tighter, pulling my hair to the point of pain. “Feel me taking control, dominating you.” He shoved deeper than he had before and stilled.
No air, I gagged. Then I panicked and tried to push back on his thighs.
“Breathe through your nose,” he ordered, not backing off. “Take me deep and keep breathing. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You know that.” He shoved even deeper. “Open that throat.”
Tears spilled down my face, and my nails dug into his thighs. I shrank back on my heels, but he only followed, towering over me, keeping his hard length deep in my mouth.
“You’re scared, but you feel it.” He pushed at the back of my throat. “Take me all the way. You’re almost there. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice dropped to a dominant whisper, and his penis pulsed. “Submit, Songbird.”
A full-body rush shook my limbs and tingled across my naked flesh, and my throat opened.
He slid the last inch in, and I sobbed.
I sobbed so hard that he went even deeper.
“Fuck.” His head fell back, and he growled as his body shook once.
But then he didn’t do what I was expecting, what I was wet and aching between my legs hoping for.
In one swift move, he pulled his hard length from my mouth, lifted me off my feet and threw me on the bed. Coming down on top of me, he pushed my thighs wide, then just as he’d guided himself into my mouth, he thrust inside me.
My sob turned into a wail, my core exploded, and the orgasm came so fast and hard, I was crying.
He didn’t back off. He didn’t slow. He didn’t stop.
Hard and steady, but rhythmic and with veneration, he drove in and out of me. Bracing himself above me with one elbow, holding my face with his other hand, he looked down at me with such intensity, I wept harder.
“Do you know why you’re crying?” He didn’t wipe my tears, he spread the
m across my cheek with his thumb.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t control the shaking in my legs as the orgasm kept coming in waves.
“Because you feel it.” He thrust so deep it hurt. “You feel this between us. You feel my dominance. You feel the control of your surrender.”
I wanted to say yes, yes, yes. I wanted to cry harder. I wanted to never let him go. But I wanted him inside me as deep as the love and gratitude I felt for him.
“Please,” I begged. “Come inside me.”
My Ronan, my warrior, my beautiful, demanding, controlled man, he thrust hard one more time.
Then he filled me with his dominance.
I CAME SO DAMN HARD, for a split second I didn’t recognize the sound for what it was.
Then the deafening boom registered as the windows shook, glass shattered, and the fire alarms went off.
The explosion rocked the entire fucking floor.
With my cock still buried deep inside her, her entire body went rigid. “Ronan!”
“Easy.” My hand on her abdomen, forcing myself to stay calm, I gently pulled out.
A second explosion popped through the suite, and concrete groaned. Debris rained down on us.
“Ronan.”
I grabbed her arms. “Up, Songbird.” Fuck fuck FUCK. “Where’s your luggage?”
“Oh God,” she cried, scrambling off the bed in a panic.
I lifted the mattress. “Get underneath, right now.” The fucking ceiling over the living room caved in as buckling rebar echoed through suite. Hot air swept in from the yawning opening that was once the slider door to the balcony, and I feared the whole damn floor would collapse.
She clutched at me as I held the mattress. “I’m scared.”
The sound of fifteen tons of concrete dropping an entire story boomed around us, and the floor shook violently.
She lost her footing, and I swept her up with one arm. Dumping her under the mattress, I lowered it over her and barked orders. “Stay. Do not move until I tell you too. Where are your clothes?” I never should’ve ripped her dress.
“O-o-other suite.”
Goddamn it. “I’ll be right back. Do not move, you hear me?” Dust, debris, chunks of ceiling fell around me.
