Chapter Thirty-Five
Itaste Ronan’s tears on my lips, salty and sweet, as I hover over him.
There’s a feeling between us that’s more than the raw desire and lust I felt while he bathed me. While he tortured me. Damn his respect. I didn’t care that I wouldn’t have been able to feel it all. Just seeing him touching me would have been enough.
Seeing him naked for the first time. Seeing the length of him, the hardness of his cock and his body, and not being able to touch him?
Agony.
I didn’t think I’d be able to feel anything but the all-consuming desire he built up in me over those long, excruciating hours of denial ever again.
But here it is. A feeling I can’t name. I’m not ready to say it, to give it form in my mind, but I know what it is.
And instead of holding it back, I let the wall that holds the feeling back fall. It crumbles somewhere deep within me, and I feel the sweet release of letting go, letting the floodgates open.
The reverberation of the feeling is all-consuming. It’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt, an endless echo not only of the passion and desire between us but of the care we have for each other, the intense need to see the other happy, the compulsion to give ourselves completely.
It echoes on my skin as I touch him, as I feel him pressing himself to me, as he kisses my mouth and then my neck. As he clutches me to him, pulling us upright until I’m facing him, my hips straining to meet his.
He grabs my ass and pulls me to him as he lowers his mouth to my breasts. He greedily kisses and licks them, sucking each nipple into his mouth until I’m moaning and grinding myself wet against him, begging him to enter me.
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I feel the tingle of his light on my skin. I’m not sure if he means to do it or if he can even control it, but it feels wonderful. I beg him in my feelings not to stop.
Then he pulls back and looks me in the eyes.
“I’m yours,” he says. I kiss him fiercely, and he responds, lifting me and throwing me down onto the soft bed. His strength, his power. It turns me on even more. I’m melting, molten under his touch. “Only yours, Sylvie.”
He kisses my neck, reaching low and rubbing my clit as his cock presses against my entrance. I moan and wrap my legs around him, inviting him in. “Please, Ronan,” I beg. “Please take me.”
He groans, low and deep, his eyes rolling with his arousal.
“Silphium?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. I took my contraceptive elixir in the morning, like every morning.
I press my foot into his back. I’m so wet, the head of his cock slips into me, and I feel the reverberation of our desires for him to slam into me to the hilt echo between us.
He doesn’t slam in though, not at first.
He moves achingly slowly, taking me a little at a time, letting me relax around his length, in and out, just a bit more each time, until he finally slides all the way in, his body pressed against mine as close as it can be.
He holds me there for a long moment, stroking my hair and kissing my lips. “You feel so fucking good.” He groans and leans off to the side, straining to control himself. “The way you feel inside. The way you take me. Fuck, Sylvie. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.”
I sigh at the praise, desperate for him to fuck me. To claim me. To make me his. He waits until I push against him, begging for him with my body and mind, before he moves.
“Ronan,” I gasp as he relinquishes control.
The feelings echo between us, longing and the nameless other thing, the pleasure of his body and mine, endlessly repeating in my body and my mind.
My body clenches around him as I squeeze my legs—finally fully free, finally fully moving—around his back, as I claw at his shoulders, as I ruin his damp hair with my tugging grasp.
Finally.
Finally he slams into me, guided by my desire for it, plunging in deep and working in me there, pressing himself against the center of my pleasure, building me to a place of exquisite release.
The heat flows into my back, my hips, my thighs.
I drive him into me with my heels, raising my hips to him, begging him to get closer, to lose himself in me, to find his release with mine.
He groans in my ear, holding me down to his bed, gripping the back of my neck like he’s holding on for dear life.
I gasp as he lifts my right hip to bury himself even further, his movements becoming erratic, pulling out and plunging back in with wild abandon.
He’s gasping in my ear, moaning my name, and it sends me over the edge, my body tightening and then releasing in waves of starlight behind my closed eyes, waves that send spasms into my muscles until I’m shaking, trembling beneath him.
Until I feel the pleasure echoed in his body, his frantic thrusts culminating into a deep, gasping plunge as his release fills me with warmth and light, the aftershocks of his climax shaking and jolting us until he finally, breathlessly, collapses on top of me.
I stroke his hair—almost dry and mussed beyond his worst imaginings—as he kisses my breast; soft kisses tinged with yearning that tell me this night has only just begun.
I press a kiss to his forehead.
This is the man I was sent here to kill.
I hear my own words in my memory, the Sylvie from months ago swearing she’d never take him into her bed. I don’t know her. I don’t recognize her anymore.
But I remember her loneliness.
I wish I could go back and talk to her. To tell her that the thing she fears, the worst thing she could ever imagine, is exactly what she needs. To tell her she isn’t alone. There’s someone like her, someone who will see her in ways she’s never been seen, if only she’ll just let him.
Ronan lifts himself above me and brushes a soft kiss to my lips, a question in his eyes. What am I thinking?
I tell him. Not the thing I can’t name for myself, not yet, but I tell him the only thing I can think of right now, the only thought I’m capable of having when I’m near him.
“I’m yours, Ronan,” I say, and he takes me in his arms again.