Ringer: A New Year's Romance: The Doyles, a Boston Irish Mafia Romance

by Sophie Austin

  With her turned away, it feels safe.

  Flirty.

  Simple.

  But then she straightens and slowly turns in my arms.

  It hits me then, how attracted I am to this woman and how much I’ve opened up to her in just a few days.

  How important it is to keep her safe.

  To make sure that she’s happy.

  Wide blue eyes meet mine, and I fight the urge to look away.

  Her eyes snap in the light, with lust, with challenge, with promise.

  Her fingers come up slowly, dragging a leisurely nail across my stomach and circling my nipples hard with the cold.

  My whole body shivers.

  “Do you like that?” she asks.

  It takes all I can do to grit out, “Yeah.”

  She touches my ears, my throat, the plane of my stomach and then slides a hand into my boxers. Her icy fingertips slide down the length of my cock, circling at the root and slowly dragging upwards.

  “How about that?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  I like anything you do to me, Alexandra.

  Every taste, every touch, every exploration.

  Her hand slides out of my boxers, and I grab her wrist.

  How can I say what I’m feeling?

  I don’t want a crazy stunt or to be touched in a certain way.

  It’s not bending her over this railing and taking her from behind until my balls empty out.

  It’s just that she asked.

  That she even bothered to ask.

  That she sees me – just sees the man – and thinks I’m worthy of her.

  And this feeling that I haven’t been right since the last time I held her in my arms.

  And that if we cross this line, I’m both praying and terrified that what I’m going to find is the place that feels most like home in the world.

  12

  Alix

  Whoever put this couch in the lighthouse for watching the view didn’t intend it for this.

  Or maybe they did.

  When we step back into the lighthouse, Jack closes and locks the balcony door firmly behind me.

  He steps up to me, right up to me, until I am against the windows of that lighthouse.

  And he slowly slides his hands up the length of my body, catching my wrists and pulling them up over my head.

  “Stay,” he growls.

  For some reason, the order is sexy as fuck and I do, splayed out against the window waiting for what he does next.

  He doesn’t disappoint.

  Jack sinks to his knees, and slowly kisses his way up my inner thigh.

  Waves of pleasure wash over me, and my hand accidentally drifts to his shoulder.

  “Over your head,” he commands again.

  It’s an effort to pull my arms back over my head.

  Most of the sex I’ve had has been fine, average sex in a bed. This is lifechanging sex, and there’s part of me that bristles against his commanding notes.

  And part of me that’s soaked at the words.

  I have to be at the helm in so many parts of my life.

  A man taking charge in the bedroom – or the lighthouse – and commanding my pleasure?

  Pretty fucking hot.

  He licks his way to my center, and then tasting, testing, runs his tongue the length of my seam.

  I cry out, and when I do, his eyes twinkle up at me with pleasure.

  I want to touch him, but he shakes his head, slowly tracing a hand up my inner thigh and then sliding a finger inside my wet core.

  One finger, then two, moving expertly in a rhythm that has me crying out. Again.

  It seems like I’m always calling for Jack, one way or another.

  He buries his face in my center, swirling his tongue around my clit and pounding into me relentlessly with fingers. It’s taking everything I have to stand and keep me arms above my head. The tension of that, combined with the ferocity of his attack on my pussy, sends me tumbling over an edge.

  Sheer relief washes over me when he lets my dress fall, stands up, and pulls me with him toward the sofa.

  He sits down and pulls me into his lap.

  My arms reach up around his neck, and he’s leaning down to kiss me. His lips are hot on mine, and damn, this man is a good kisser.

  Intense, claiming, hungry.

  His fingers run down my arms, down the sides of my body, and his hands stop on my hips. They grip me firmly, pulling me even closer into his body.

  Hot desire rises in my core, the warmth, and building anticipation coiling in my center. Jack’s hard cock presses against my leg.

  I lose myself in his kiss, as he tongues me deeper and run my hands up along his neck and into his hair. He slides a hand under my ass, and when I let out a moan against his lips, he growls with desire.

  We’re getting close to the point where there’s no going back.

  And I want it, want it on every level.

  I want to see this man completely naked, feel his skin against mine, feel the power of him as he takes me for his own.

  But then doubt slams into me.

  Is this what he wants?

  Is this right for where he is right now?

  I don’t know if he senses my concern or reaches the same conclusion. His hands linger on me, but he breaks the kiss and leans back.

  Slow and steady deep breaths, eyes on the ceiling, fighting to regain his composure.

  It’s taking every ounce of self-control to not lean back in and show him how much I want him. How much I need him.

  “Alexandra,” his voice is thick, heavy with desire.

  His eyes are on my face, intent, and intense, and I can’t look away.

  There’s so much that I want to say, but the words are twisted up with fear, with nerves, and with my physical reaction to his magnetic pull.

  Finally, I reach a hand up and just caress his face, tracing the hard line of his jaw below the stubble.

  He makes a masculine sound of pure pleasure and desire, deep and raw. But he tightens his lips, hardening that line, and with a tremendous amount of effort leans back, away from me.

  I’ve pushed too hard.

  I’ve gotten it wrong.

  My hands start to fly up, but he catches my right hand in his. Again, huge fingers wrap around mine, twining around and through to give a reassuring squeeze.

  “Alexandra,” he tries again.

  Clears his throat.

  “Before we go any further here, there’s something I need to say.”

  Go further?

  Maybe I’m not the only one feeling the pull, then, like I’m being drawn into a vortex of desire that will never let me go. I nod, not trusting my words.

  “I…. shit.” He exhales and then pulls me tighter against him.

  Through the thin fabric of my dress, I can feel how muscular his thighs are. His desire is straining against his pants.

  “You’re beautiful. So fucking sexy,” his eyes are on my lips. “Such an amazing human being. Good and kind and pure.”

  From desire? From a need to avoid contact? I don’t really know.

  “It has been a while,” his voice is hushed, and I feel like the air got sucked out the room. Everything that he goes through is brought back to that terrible lens. The one that finds him wanting.

  “I don’t know how good I’d be.”

  How good?

  I almost want to laugh, because I’m so wet to have this man inside me that I could lose my mind.

  But his eyes come up to meet mine, and there’s another layer of raw vulnerability there that plumbs a depth I haven’t seen.

  It shifts, taking on just an edge of the cocky good-natured guy that lurks below the surface.

  “But I will give you my best effort, if you’ll let me?” he asks.

  If I’ll have him?

  Oh, yes, I will.

  “Jack, I don’t know if you can tell, but I’d really, really like to fuck you.”

  It’s so direct, right on
the edge of vulgar, but I feel like it needs to be said.

  So much between us has been so careful, so polite, so mindful of the boundaries.

  The only way to close this distance is with some honesty.

  Some risk.

  This, if it happens, when it happens, has to come from a place of desire between two people who want each other’s bodies.

  And maybe their hearts.

  I’m not looking to fix anything here, and I don’t want him to feel like anything less than the whole, powerful, commanding man that’s making my heart pound. My throat goes dry, and I lick my lips.

  He hisses out a breath, grabbing me and pulling me to him, molding me to the hard muscles of his body.

  His lips move against mine, his tongue sliding inside to explore and command. A hand comes up and gently caresses my breast, fingers tracing the outline of my nipple. When a soft moan escapes me, he growls his pleasure, nodding his head gently in approval.

  At any other time, I’d rip our clothes off.

  But we’re in a lighthouse.

  Surrounded by a lot of windows.

  I don’t think anyone’s watching, but I’m not sure.

  And I’m not even sure if I care.

  “Jack,” I whisper breathlessly against his ear.

  His hand is cupping my breast now, his face nuzzling into my neck. The beard stubble scruffs at the soft skin of my neck, and all I can do is imagine it between my thighs again.

  “Mmmmm?” It’s a question, and I can see that a sex haze has already started to descend over him and drive his actions.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s a little…. exposed.”

  His eyes focus on mine, and I can see that he does, but also that he’s maybe feeling a little tentative.

  His eyes move toward the door.

  “Yes.”

  It’s a command, an imperative, a promise of things to come.

  I stand up, although it’s taking everything I’ve got to break contact with him.

  Our best option is an oversized leather couch, and I can’t think of a better place I’d love to fuck him.

  I run a hand down his arm and then bend down another quick kiss.

  “I’m going to take a few minutes in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

  There’s a tiny bathroom in the corner of the room, and I need a second to compose myself.

  Staring into the mirror, I wonder how to approach this.

  Undress? Do a striptease?

  I have to stop overthinking this and just go with my instincts.

  I pull my dress over my head, standing there in just my black lace bra and panties. Reaching up, I slide the elastic from my hair and let the bun slowly unwind and tumble down around my shoulders.

  The sounds of the movement have stopped in the room beyond, so I turn off the light and then step into the central area of the lighthouse.

  “Damn,” his deep voice rumbles as he catches sight of me.

  He’s on the couch, jacket off and shirt loosened.

  Even though his dark slacks, I can see the immense hard-on reacting to me.

  I don’t rush it.

  I hold his gaze, taking in the full force of his desire.

  It feels good to be so wanted by a man, especially a man like this.

  I bite my lip, release it, and trace the edge of my tongue across my lips.

  His eyes are riveted to me, and he’s leaning forward like he’s about to get on his feet and throw me onto that couch.

  Just the thought of it makes me wetter.

  Slowly I start to cross the room, taking my time, agonizing slow step after slow step, and then reaching a hand behind me to release the clasp on my bra. Just out of reach, I stop and let it fall to the ground at my feet.

  The soft melody of love songs play in the background.

  His eyes are immediately on my breasts, my nipples jutting out from them, hard as flint from the cooler air in the room and from desire. Yearning to be another point of connection between his body and mine.

  “Fuck, Alexandra,” Jack makes a growl of pure desire.

  He reaches for me, pulling me to him.

  I slide into his lap, straddling him and wrapping my arms around his neck. Our lips meet, his hand slides up my stomach to capture my breast, and I groan in pleasure when his finger makes contact with my nipple.

  I don’t want to rush; I want to give him time to explore.

  But I also want him inside me.

  I need it.

  I need him.

  Leaning toward his ear, I whisper, “Do you want me to take my panties off, Jack?”

  As much as I think I know how this is going to go, I’ll keep them on if that’s what he wants.

  “Hell, yes.”

  His voice can’t possibly get any deeper.

  His hands come up to my hips, and then before I can say anything, he tears the panties from my body. Just a pull and a rip, and I am hovering over him with nothing between us but the cool air.

  His belt is next, and he slides down his pants and boxers.

  Oh yes.

  Hell yes.

  Fuck yes.

  I give a startled laugh, but it’s so fucking hot I don’t even care.

  His cock springs free.

  When I see it, I gasp in amazement at how large it really is. I take a breath. His cock is huge, and it’s hard, and the head of it promises to fill me up completely.

  And then some.

  Christ.

  But I don’t care. I’m completely aroused and the only thing I want in this moment is to bring him pleasure.

  Remind him that we’re both alive – and with that, comes tremendous possibilities.

  My hand reaches out and I trace my index finger along it. It jerks, and he utters groan of pleasure that literally makes me ache with need. I want him to make that sound inside of me.

  “Fuck, let me go down on you first. I don’t think I can last,” he grunts out.

  While I very much want him to go down on me, that’s not my first objective of the night.

  “Condom?” I ask, sounding more confident than I feel.

  He reaches into a pocket and pulls out several.

  I like it.

  He’s an optimist.

  Or, God help me, a realist...

  Grabbing one, I tear the package and then slowly roll the condom down the length of his massive cock, enjoying every sigh and moan.

  Then I climb into his lap, straddling him, and position him at the entrance to my pussy.

  His eyes are locked on mine, wide and hungry.

  “Are you sure, Jack?”

  “I have never wanted anything more than I want you right now, Alexandra,” he manages to get out.

  Then, his hands are tangled in my hair, incredibly gentle despite the urgency that I can see on his face.

  The head of his cock presses into my opening, and I can feel him pressing his hips down into the coach, trying not to push up. I settle, making sure we’re at a proper angle and letting my wet lips surround his cock. Then inch by delicious inch, I lower myself down on him.

  He’s enormous, and the steel of his cock pushes my walls apart even though I’m so wet.

  I gasp, and just keep sliding down until he’s as deep in me as he can go. He’s breathing hard, his eyes unfocused, but he looks into my eyes and tenderly rests his forehead against mine.

  “Oh my God,” he whispers.

  It’s like exultation, a prayer, the way he utters those words.

  He’s so big that he’s pushing at my cervix, and normally that’s not a feeling that excites me.

  But I want to pull him in, all of him in, and just feeling the perfect way his cock molds itself to me, how tightly it fits – how it gives me that combination of pain and pleasure – tips me right to the edge.

  I move my hips a little, testing the pressure, trying to find the best movement, unable to stop from crying out a little as I feel him begin to pulsate. He’s not coming, but he’s res
ponding to even the slightest gyrations of my hips.

  This is so good.

  It’s like he’s completely aware of every shift, every moment, every anticipation before I am.

  His arms come around me, and he’s pulling me to him, kissing me.

  He’s such a skilled kisser, his tongue and lips work mine in a rhythm that communicates exactly what he wants me to do to his cock.

  Slowly, I begin to rock my hips, moving, teasing, grinding.

  Bearing down, pulling up.

  Squeezing.

  He starts to lean like he’s going to flip me onto my back, but I catch his shoulders and whisper, “Wait. Let me.”

  And I pull back, not kissing, leaving my arms looped around his neck.

  One of his hands is protectively splayed across my lower back. The other comes up and caresses my breast, plays with my nipple gently at first, and then begins to pinch.

  Our eyes meet, and I watch the waves of emotion and desire move across his face as we fuck.

  Together, at last.

  I set the pace, and he thrusts up to meet me, gentle at first, and with more urgency.

  There’s something in this that reminds me of being claimed.

  Marked.

  Declared his.

  Some line has been crossed.

  I opened myself to him, and that’s not just my body.

  It’s my soul.

  Some part of my part.

  And from the way he’s looking at me, with wide and gentle eyes, an even bigger part of his.

  I love the way that he sounds, masculine, raw, and commanding. My own cries of pleasure are soft at first, and then more urgent as he drives deeper and deeper into me, demanding everything.

  Still, our eyes never break, and when I feel the heat of my own release washing over me, I say his name.

  “Yes, fuck, Jack. Oh god Jack,” I moan.

  I catch a glimpse of his surprise before his orgasm overtakes him.

  He’s roaring with the release of it, driving himself into me again and again, burying his face in my shoulder.

  We stay like that, together and not moving, letting the last waves of pleasure claim us for the longest time.

  13

  Jack

  My brain is back in my body, finally.

  Breathing regulated.

  We managed to get out of the lighthouse, locking it up behind us, and make it back to her farm where we tumbled into her bed.