27. Elle #2
“I want to not think about my parents for five fucking minutes. I want to forget that somewhere in London, Harry Thompson is living his life like he didn’t destroy mine. I want—” My voice cracks, and I hate that I’m showing him this weakness.
His grip on my waist tightens. “What do you want right now, Elle? Not tomorrow. Not in some fantasy where everything is fixed. Right now.”
I lean down until my mouth is an inch from his. “I want you to make me forget.”
His pupils dilate, swallowing the green until his eyes are nearly black. “That I can do.”
His mouth crashes into mine with a force that steals my breath. It’s not gentle or careful. It’s exactly what I need. It’s something to drown out the noise in my head, the knowledge that sits like acid in my stomach.
Three hundred and twenty million pounds is mine if my parents die.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I kiss him back with everything I have. I cup his jaw, and my fingers dig into him.
I want him to take me apart until there’s nothing left but sensation, until the past is buried under pleasure so intense I can’t think straight.
His hands slide under my shirt, palms hot against my skin. I arch into his touch, grinding down on the hard ridge of his erection. He groans into my mouth, and the sound vibrates through me, settling low in my belly.
He reaches around his back and pulls something free. I break the kiss to stare at the knife in his hand. He smiles and pulls the waistband of my leggings away from my skin. The knife tip sinks into the fabric, and he drags it down, tearing it right down my thigh.
“Tiernan,” I croak, my eyes on the blade. It’s wickedly sharp and gleams under the hallway lights.
He doesn’t stop. He slices through the other leg of my leggings until they’re ruined. He sets the knife down on the soft carpet, then grips the torn fabric, and the ruined seams split under his strength. He rips the leggings off me completely.
The air is cool against my bare legs. I’m exposed in just my knickers and t-shirt.
His hands slide up my thighs, his palms cool against my skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful it makes me want to ruin you.”
“Too late. I’m already ruined.”
“No.” He picks up the knife again as his fingers hook into the sides of my knickers. “You’re not. It’s my job to ruin you, no one else’s.”
He slices through my knickers, and I gasp as he yanks them away.
He turns the knife around, the blade cutting into his palm as he grips it. He presses the end of the handle to my clit, and I shudder on his lap, disgusted that I’m letting him do this to me.
But the fact is, I came onto him. The truth hurts, but it’s time I stopped denying that I want him, them. I rotate my hips, grinding against the handle, and he lets out a noise of pure lust that sends shivers over my skin.
His throat works as he swallows hard, his eyes fixed on where the handle presses against me. The cool metal heats under my movements. It feels good. Too good. Wrong and perfect and exactly what I need to silence the screaming in my head.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re soaked.”
Slick heat coats the handle as I grind down harder. My nails dig into the back of his neck as I ride the crest of pleasure that his knife is bringing me.
He adjusts his grip on the blade, blood welling where it cuts into his palm.
I rock against the handle, chasing the friction, the pressure, the mindless oblivion I’m desperate for.
My thighs tremble with the effort. The angle is awkward, not quite enough, and I grip his wrist to move him where I need him.
He lets me with a low growl.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “Show me how you like it.”
I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper.
The hallway spins around me, expensive wallpaper and soft lighting blurring at the edges.
I quiver as the pleasure coils tighter in my pussy.
My breathing becomes ragged, and I can’t stop the small sounds escaping my throat.
Tiernan watches me with an intensity that makes me feel stripped bare.
“Finish it, Elle,” he murmurs.
I’m so close it’s almost painful, the tension winding through every muscle until I’m shaking with it.
I grind harder against the knife handle, chasing that edge, needing it more than I need my next breath.
I shatter suddenly, crying out as the orgasm rips through me.
White heat explodes behind my eyelids, and for one perfect, mindless moment, there’s nothing but sensation.
No parents. No money. No past. Just this.
My body convulses on top of him, and he wastes no time in freeing his cock with his free hand. He removes the knife and drops it. I whimper, but he replaces it with the head of his cock, teasing out the last of my orgasm.
“Ride me, Elle,” he says, sliding his enormous length into me. “Ride me and let me help you forget.”
I brace my hands on his broad chest and lift myself slightly before sinking back down onto him. The stretch is intense, almost too much, but I need this. I need to feel something other than the crushing weight of revelations I didn’t ask for.
Tiernan’s hands grip my hips, guiding my movements. His fingers press hard enough to bruise, but I welcome it. Physical pain I can handle. It’s the emotional devastation that’s trying to pull me under.
I set a brutal pace, riding him hard in the middle of this hallway like we’re animals. Maybe we are. Maybe that’s all this is—base need and desperation.
“Fuck, Elle,” he groans, his head falling back against the wall. “You’re going to make me come.”
“That’s the idea,” I rasp, increasing my pace, rotating my hips as I ride his cock like there is nothing left in this world except him.
His thumb finds my clit, circling with just enough pressure to make my thighs shake. I’m still twitching from my orgasm, and the sensation borders on too much but not enough at the same time.
“Harder,” I pant, grinding down on him.
He makes a noise that is half beast, and grips my hips tightly enough to flip me onto my back while keeping his cock buried deep inside me.
My back hits the plush carpet, and I let out a gasp when he pushes my hands above my head with one hand, his other pinning me to the floor by my hip and his weight. He drives into me with a relentless rhythm that steals what’s left of my breath.
The carpet burns against my spine, but I don’t care. I arch into him, meeting each brutal thrust with my own desperate need. His green eyes bore into mine, dark and feral, and I can’t look away even though everything in me wants to hide from the intensity of it.
“You feel so fucking good, Elle.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The pressure builds again, impossibly fast, coiling low in my cunt like a live wire. Every stroke sends sparks shooting through my nerve endings.
“Tiernan,” I gasp, sounding desperate.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, releasing my wrists to grip my thigh, pushing my leg open wider. The angle changes, and suddenly he’s hitting something inside me that makes my vision blur.
I cling to him then, probably drawing blood, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he drives into me harder, faster, like he’s trying to fuck every thought out of my head.
“Come around my cock, Elle. Let me feel your cunt milking me for every last drop.”
“Tiernan,” I pant.
The pleasure is overwhelming, drowning out everything else, all of it swept away in a wave of sensation so intense I forget how to breathe.
“That’s it, my good girl,” he purrs. “Soak me, mark me.”
I tighten my legs around him, squeezing with every muscle I have.
He groans and dumps his load as my pussy clenches around him.
The orgasm tears through me so violently I forget where I am for several long seconds.
All I know is the feeling of him inside me, the heat of his release, and my body trembling with aftershocks.
“Well, that was worth watching,” Fintan says from the top of the stairs.
I turn my head to look at him as Tiernan laughs darkly. “Your turn, Fin. I’ve warmed her up for you.”