Chapter 12 Raf
RAF
Christ, no woman on earth has a right to be this tantalizing, to feel this incredible.
But as I plunge into Aisling’s warm, wet depths, it’s all I can do not to lose myself inside her.
She smells like spun sugar, cocoa, and cinnamon—pure warmth and sweet comfort on my tongue—and a groan rushes from me as the fiery heat of her teeth tempts me back from the edge just enough.
I’m not so drunk that I’ve lost my senses.
But I’m damn near it from the heady combination of whiskey, blows to the head, and the intoxicating pleasure of Aisling’s body wrapped around my own.
I know what I’m doing is wrong—because I still love Genevieve and this dishonors her memory; because Aisling and I agreed our relationship was not only fake but temporary; and because I could too easily fall for this fierce Irishwoman who nearly stole my heart five years ago—before I even discovered I had a heart to give away.
I know I shouldn’t be kissing her, touching her, consuming her like she’s the very oxygen I need to survive.
We agreed this arrangement would not involve sex.
I’m the one who insisted upon it, because I knew the risks that would come with giving myself permission, I knew it would trigger the cravings I spent years trying to break—like an addict desperate for his next fix.
But now that I’ve had a taste, I just can’t seem to stop myself.
Aisling drives me crazy—she both infuriates me and awakens a hunger inside me that borders on desperation.
She triggers my most basic instincts every time she challenges me with her sharp tongue and keen mind, every time she tempts me with her soft curves and captivating eyes.
It’s like she was made just for me—just to torture me, because she’s everything I could ever want in a woman but never call my own.
Even now.
Even in the heat of the moment, I know this doesn’t change our reality.
She still hates me, and the Murrays were still complicit in the destruction of my home, my life, my family.
I’m willing to set aside my need for their blood in order to annihilate the monsters responsible for slitting Genevieve’s throat.
That doesn’t mean either of us can forget the carnage that lies between us.
When the war with the Yakuza is over and our thirst for vengeance is sated, Aisling will still be the daughter of my rival—and I’ll still be the man who shunned her for it.
She’ll vanish behind enemy lines once more.
And I should want that.
But right here, right now, buried balls deep inside her, all I can think about is how savagely I want her.
My need is so desperate I can scarcely breathe.
As I keep her trapped against the wall, her long legs wrapped around my waist, my cock spearing her relentlessly, I can’t seem to stop myself. I’ve completely lost control.
“Oh, God, Raf!” Aisling gasps, the sound of my name on her lips like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart.
Her warm thighs are like silk beneath my palms, and as I slide my hands higher, grasping her firm, round ass for better leverage, it makes my cock throb.
Even five years later, Aisling has the most perfect body I’ve ever laid eyes on—the most delectable curves I’ve ever felt.
They draw me in, daring me to claim her. And I do so with a predator’s ferocity, consuming her like a starved beast that’s finally captured its prey.
Aisling’s hips meet the wall behind her with each punishing thrust, and it reminds me of our first night together—the searing kisses and playful back-and-forth that made me throw caution to the wind.
I fucked her against a pane of glass high above the city, the sinful pleasure of it only intensified by the fear in her eyes at being so far above the ground with nothing but a transparent barrier between her and a death fall.
I didn’t know she was a virgin until after—when I learned who she really was.
Hers was the first—and only—maidenhead I’ve ever claimed, and even if I didn’t know why at the time, it was the most intense, erotic sex I’ve ever had.
But now, I’m starting to question whether it was her virginity that made it so mind-blowing.
Because this feels far too similar, far too rhapsodic—the agonizing tightness as her body stretches to accommodate me, the wet warmth that says she wants me just as desperately as I need her, the electric chemistry between us.
It’s so explosive, I can almost taste the singed air on my tongue—or maybe it’s the whiskey.
Whatever it is, it’s sparking vivid images of that first earth-shattering night I took Aisling to bed.
And it awakens a thirst in me that drowns out all the other women I’ve ever had.
Memories of Aisling blend with the present moment, the tumult of emotions and destructive desire making my head spin and my cock throb dangerously inside her.
I’m not wearing a condom, but I’m so far gone, I can’t bring myself to stop.
I’ll just have to remember to pull out—like I did that first time we were together.
Christ, everything about this moment is far too reminiscent of that night.
It’s wrong how badly I’m chasing the high, addicted to the charged pleasure Aisling’s touch excites in me.
I’m a sick, fickle, unfaithful bastard—to be losing my mind over a woman when my wife is not yet cold in the ground.
But I can’t stop thinking about our history together—me and Aisling—those few smoking-hot nights of sex that, admittedly, were some of the best I’ve ever had.
They snuff out all the wicked pleasure I chased from random women at the club, torching any desire I had for meaningless pussy.
I can’t even remember what it felt like to bury myself between Genevieve’s sweet thighs now that I’m laying claim to Aisling once more.
We pant together, our mingled breaths hot and heavy as we share oxygen between starving kisses.
My lips only leave hers long enough to trail a wicked path up the curve of her throat until my teeth graze the shell of her ear.
Aisling whimpers in response, her hips grinding forward against me as her walls clench around my cock.
I drive inside her, rolling my hips when I feel her teetering on the brink of release.
“Come for me, dolce,” I growl against the curve of her jaw, then I smother her lips with mine, swallowing the cry of pleasure that erupts from her as she obeys me without hesitation.
God, but I love how responsive she is. Aisling might like to play at being defiant, but she loses her mind when I take control of her pleasure—when I tell her what to do.
And as she falls apart on my cock, her juices gushing around me until her thighs are slick with excitement, stars explode behind my eyelids.
Her pussy grips my hard length like a vise, the force with which she milks me nearly sending me right over the edge along with her.
But I can’t lose it now—I can’t come inside her.
And I’m not ready for this night to end.
Raking in ragged breaths, I pause inside Aisling’s hot, wet channel, biting the inside of my cheek to ride out the rippling ecstasy of her orgasm.
It’s all I can do to stop myself from shooting my load.
I should not be tempting fate when it’s been days since I’ve jerked off.
But I refuse to give in to the overwhelming need to fill her with my seed deep.
Her breathy mewls of pleasure trigger shivers up my spine, and I shudder violently as the sweet sound rocks me to my core.
“We—” she pants, her head falling back against the wall with a thunk. “We should take this somewhere less… conspicuous.”
Probably, though I’m not sure I could stop what we’re doing even if someone walked in on us right now.
Just the thought of removing my cock from Aisling’s glorious cunt makes me growl low in my throat.
But rather than object, I simply adjust my grip on her hips, winding one arm around her waist to firmly secure my cock inside her.
“Alright,” I rasp. Then I shuffle toward the hall.
Aisling clings to me, a snicker ripping from her as I stumble over the pants trapped around my ankles.
Then she gasps as we slam into the sturdy wood of the door, my cock thrusting deep as I fall into her.
“Keep making noises like that, and we aren’t going to make it far,” I warn darkly against her lips, refusing to release her so we can make our way upstairs without a challenge.
Kicking off my shoes, I shed the tripping hazard of my pants, then twist the door handle beneath Aisling’s hip and carry her out into the hall.
I make my way blindly toward the stairs as we continue to make out, her sweet lips and tantalizing tongue impossible to drag myself away from.
And despite her impressive anger a short time ago, Aisling seems just as insatiable.
We make it to the stairs before my hand finds the wall once more, and I lean her against it so I can rock inside her, too greedy to make it to our room before I have another taste of her.
She whimpers, her thighs quivering as her body clenches around me, and her hips roll in rhythm with my thrusts.
Then her fingers are pushing the lapels of my suit jacket down over my shoulders.
I shake my arms free of the sleeves, impatient to have my hands on her once more, my fingers sliding beneath the fabric of her dress and up the smooth plane of her belly to cup one lace-clad breast.
They’re fuller now than they used to be, the supple flesh filling my palm and spilling between my fingers provocatively.
Christ, I want to suck her pert little nipple until she screams.
And the anticipation of it has me on the move once more.
I don’t give a damn that I’m one layer of fabric away from being buck naked or that I’m fucking my fake wife like we’re two love sick-teenagers trying to get the deed done before our parents get home.
I want to devour every inch of Aisling before she comes back to her senses—before mine overcome the momentary insanity or traumatic brain injury I must be suffering from.
Aisling’s fingers tighten in my hair, her teeth nipping playfully at my lip before her tongue plunges into my mouth once more, and my cock throbs precariously.
With a bestial growl, I finally make it to our bedroom door, and I pin her to it, ravaging her body before I can even get it open.