Chapter 12 Raf #2
She must find the knob I’m searching for, because the barrier falls away behind her, swinging wide to slam against the wall, then I hear it swing shut behind us as we topple onto the king-size bed together.
“I hope you’re not too attached to this dress,” I rasp, not waiting for an answer as I rock back to get a full view of Aisling spilled across the dark comforter.
Her chest heaves as I grasp both sides of her low neckline and give a forceful jerk, separating the rich blue fabric at the seams.
It shreds easily, falling open to reveal Aisling in all her glory—the black lace bra that matches her ruined panties I left lying on the cigar room floor, her rose-colored nipples puckering visibly beneath the flimsy support, the creamy skin of her curving abdomen, all the way down to her fire-kissed pussy and spread thighs, where my cock is still buried deep inside her.
Christ, she would look almost angelic—if not for the sultry way her thick lashes hood her azure eyes.
And when I shrug out of my dress shirt to fall on top of her, she rises up to meet me.
Our lips crash together with bruising force, and Aisling reaches down to grasp my ass, her nails biting into my skin as I slam inside her.
For all the rough sex I’ve had in my life, there’s nothing quite like the anger we fuck with.
Neither of us is interested in soft, reverential love-making. Not tonight.
Not when we’re making up for years of unspoken pain and resentment—all culminating in an inferno of explosive tension that can’t be contained any longer.
“God, you take my cock so well,” I groan, releasing Aisling’s lips to trail a line of nips and kisses down her throat toward her breasts.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps, her head falling back until her thick locks are pooling around her head like a crimson halo.
Her nails carve lines of fire in my skin as she rakes her fingers up my back, and it unleashes the beast inside just as I reach her lace-clad nipple.
With a snarl, I close my lips around the taut nub and suck it mercilessly between my teeth.
Aisling cries out, her back arching as her pussy tightens around me.
Then she’s grinding forward with her hips, chasing her pleasure as I fuck her hard and fast, driving her into the mattress with each thrust.
It’s intoxicating—no, more like the high of a hardcore drug.
My head swims with the rapturous pleasure of claiming Aisling without mercy.
I want to bury myself so deep inside her that she’ll still feel me in the morning.
I want to own every inch of her body, ruin her for any other man, take possession of all her pleasure until I’m as deeply rooted in her psyche as she is in mine.
Because if tonight has shown me anything, it’s that five years has done nothing to dull my attraction to Aisling Murray.
I need her as hopelessly as I did the first time I laid eyes on her. And that realization is devastating.
That I could be broken by one wickedly tempting woman.
She stole my soul with a single kiss.
And though I’m the one who sent her away, I know now that this power she holds over me is inescapable.
I belong to her—I have since the moment we met.
Which means the vows I made to Genevieve were never mine to give. I’ve been lying to everyone, myself most of all, for years.
The guilt could crush me.
And the anger that follows is no less suffocating.
I hate how completely Aisling has captivated me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t fall to my knees and worship at the altar of her perfection.
I would lie down and die a willing sacrifice to experience the heaven that lies between her thighs.
I can feel her pleasure mounting, hear the climax building in her rapturous cries, and it makes my head swim as all the blood rushes from my brain to swell inside my already painfully hard cock.
“Raf!” Aisling gasps, her long legs wrapping around me, her heels digging into my hips as she urges me deeper inside her, and a moment later, she’s shattering, her walls pulsing around me, her clit fluttering against the base of my cock.
The force with which she comes obliterates my self-control, launching me over the edge, though I’d planned on making this night last far longer.
Slamming inside her to the hilt, I join Aisling in oblivion, pouring hot cum into her depths until she’s so full of my seed that it’s spilling out of her tight entrance.
She keeps milking me, urging me deeper inside her as I throb, our simultaneous orgasms so agonizingly euphoric that stars explode behind my eyelids.
It’s all I can do not to pass out as I grunt and thrust with each powerful surge of pleasure.
Then, I shudder violently as we collapse onto the bed together, utterly spent, our limbs tangled in an impossible snarl.
God, I never knew condemning my soul to hell could feel so divine.
Because there isn’t a shadow of doubt in my mind that sleeping with Aisling was a terrible mistake.
I broke all of my most sacred vows tonight.
And my stomach knots as reality comes crashing back down around me.
I’m despicable.
But between the head trauma I sustained from getting knocked out, the overindulgence in alcohol, and the lack of blood in my brain after my release, I’m too dizzy to think straight—too dizzy to do anything, actually.
Maybe I really should have considered going to the hospital.
But it’s too late now.
And the last conscious thought I manage before passing out is an apology to my dead wife.
Because I betrayed her memory.
I’m sorry, Genevieve. When it comes to Aisling, I just can’t seem to help myself.