My Irish Mafia King

Chapter 21

Twenty-One

LUCY

A s I carry Clover toward the guestroom where Anna has been sleeping, I take a moment to identify the feeling fluttering through me. Is it happiness? Killian held me during the ride to this apartment the night of the ball, but then he became distant, as if he knew he had to make himself cold for what he had to do.

Now he’s home, and it’s like he’s melted all the agony away. When I knock on the door, Anna calls for me to come in. She’s lying in bed, a book in her hand.

“Hey,” she says, sitting up. “It’s nice to see you smiling. Is he home?”

I nod. “Clover was whining to come in here… and I was wondering, maybe, if you could take care of her for a while?”

“Wait, is it headphone time?” Anna says with a raised eyebrow.

When I laugh, it feels like a relief. ‘Headphone time’ is what Anna has been referring to me and Killian being together as… because she’s promised to wear headphones.

“I think it might be,” I murmur.

Anna walks over and scoops Clover up, then puts her hand on my arm. “Remember, you want this. You’ve wanted it for a long time. I’ll be listening to heavy metal, by the way.”

Meaning… we can make all the noise we want.

When I leave the room and walk down the hallway of Killian’s minimalist apartment, he’s waiting for me at the bedroom door. He’s wearing a pale green shirt, the top two buttons undone, his muscles heaving, the light glimmering in his light blonde hair.

I love how he looks at me, his gaze moving to my thighs, my breasts, then my face. He stares longingly as he approaches, his hands shaking.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says fiercely. “What you did…”

“I was scared,” I admit. “But I won’t let that stop me. With anything.”

“You don’t need to be scared now,” he groans, leaning down for another kiss.

I lose myself in it, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of him picking me up, how weightless I become, how effortless he makes it. He carries me into the bedroom, kicking the door closed.

I wrap my legs around his waist as he moves to the bed and then gently lays me down.

“I’m impressed,” I say. “You did all that without stopping the kiss.”

When he smirks, I feel the shape of it against my lips. “You’re pretty damn motivating, a stór .”

“I love when you call me that,” I whisper.

“It’s fitting… you’re my treasure, the most precious thing in my life. You’ve been my treasure since the moment I walked into the bakery and saw that little ring glimmering around your neck.”

“You’ve been my savior for a lot longer than that…”

I sink my fingers into his muscled arms as we kiss again. Our mouths open as our tongues eagerly find each other, caressing heatedly. I never thought I’d experience pleasure like this, so much desire bubbling up in me.

He grabs my T-shirt – well, his shirt, technically – and pulls it over my head. I raise my arms, burying the nerves. This is what I want. To be with my man, give myself to him, to live in the here and now and let the future take care of itself.

He leans back, staring down at my body. I’m only wearing my underwear, no bra. He stares intently at my breasts, his jaw tight.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he says huskily.

He falls upon my breasts like he’s been starving for me, sucking my left nipple and making it tingle as he slides his hand up my leg. The closer he gets to my core, the less intense the nerves become. He slides higher and higher until the physical pleasure is enough to push all the doubt deep down.

He pushes his hand against my lips, his palm aching against my pleasure point, making groaning noises as he greedily sucks one nipple and massages my other breast with his free hand. I moan, slipping my hands through his hair, then grabbing his shirt and tugging on it.

He lifts his arms as I pull his shirt over his head, revealing his muscled torso, every inch of him solid like rock, brimming with desire.

“I need to taste you,” he snarls, kissing my lips, then my neck, then down over my breasts.

Each kiss leaves a shivering imprint on my body, a petal of desire that spreads out and tickles every part of me. I used to think about what it would feel like to be with him, but nothing can compare to real life… it’s his desire, his hunger, his desperation to touch and kiss and be with me.

I’ve never felt so wanted. I didn’t know it was possible.

He kisses over my belly. This time, there are no interruptions when he grabs my underwear and pulls it down. He sinks his hands into my thighs. I lean up on my elbows, looking down at him as he looks heatedly at my naked sex.

“Fuck.” He shudders all over, then looks up at me. “You need to be sure, a stór , my perfect virgin. I need to know that this is what you want. I need to know you’re ready.”

He sounds unhinged, his voice shaking, deep and hungry. Glowing waves of desire engulf my entire body. He’s looking at me as though I’m the gold at the end of a rainbow, like I’m his prize… his treasure.

“I’m nervous,” I whisper. “But I need you. Don’t stop. I’m sure?—”

I gasp when he presses his mouth against my sex. He opens his mouth wide and slides his tongue up and down my folds, then pushes it against my point as he circles my entrance with his finger.

I stare down at his hulking shoulders, his head bobbing up and down as he caresses my core with his tongue. He slips one hand around to my ass, holding me possessively as he rubs me with his other hand.

His tongue feels burning hot against my clit. When he flickers his tongue, my gasping breaths become moans of near release. I can’t believe how quickly the pleasure gathers in me, rushing through my body, like I’m going to melt into a soul-searing orgasm any second.

“Don’t play… any games… this time,” I somehow say.