Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
The conference room feels like torture tonight. Rain pounds against bulletproof windows while my family gathers around the mahogany table, but all I can think about is bending Saoirse over this polished wood and fucking her until she screams.
She sits beside me, close enough that her perfume drives me insane. Close enough that I catch her scent mixed with arousal. She wants this as much as I do.
One week since we crossed every line, and I'm obsessed. Addicted to the taste of her, the sounds she makes when I'm buried inside her, the way she claws my back when she comes.
"Focus," she whispers, but her voice carries that breathless note that means she's remembering this morning. How I bent her over the bathroom sink and took her hard while she watched in the mirror.
My cock throbs at the memory. Her hands gripping marble while I slammed into her from behind, her ass bouncing with each thrust.
Tiernan wheels himself to the head of the table. His good hand grips whiskey while his damaged voice struggles with words.
"The Russians move tomorrow," Saoirse begins, standing to spread papers across the table.
I watch her lean forward, the movement making her skirt ride up her thighs. I know exactly what's under that skirt. Black lace that I'll be ripping off her the moment we're alone.
"Petrov expects chaos when he strikes," she continues. "He won't get it."
Her finger traces routes on the map, and I imagine those same fingers wrapped around my cock. The way she strokes me while looking into my eyes, driving me to the edge before pulling back.
Cillian asks about legitimate businesses. Eamon wants to know about direct response. I barely hear their words over the blood rushing in my ears as Saoirse moves around the table, commanding the room like the queen she is.
Every gesture makes me harder. Every word from her mouth reminds me how that mouth feels on my skin, sucking my cock until I can't think straight.
Tiernan watches the exchange in silence. His mouth works, forming words slowly. "Smart... like her mother."
The room goes still. His first real praise for his daughter.
"Conall and I handle everything from the main house," Saoirse says, and the way she says my name makes me want to bend her over right here. Let everyone see who she belongs to.
"Questions?" she asks.
Silence. Then nods.
"We start at dawn," she concludes.
The meeting dissolves. I catch her wrist as she stands, thumb pressing into her pulse point. It races under my touch.
"Come with me," I say, voice rough with need.
We slip out through the rear doors into the estate gardens. The moment we're alone, I press her against the stone wall, caging her with my body.
"I've been hard for you all night," I growl against her throat. "Thinking about what I'm going to do to you."
Her breath catches. "Tell me."
"I'm going to strip you naked right here. Spread you on the fountain edge and eat your pussy until you beg me to stop."
She moans, head falling back. "Conall..."
"Then I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name."
My hands slide up her thighs, pushing her skirt to her waist. Black lace, just as I predicted. Already damp.
"You're soaked," I say, stroking her through the fabric. "Did you get wet listening to me during the meeting?"
"Yes." Her hips rock against my hand. "I kept thinking about last night."
"When I tied you to the bed?"
"When you made me come four times."
I rip her underwear off, the sound echoing in the garden. She gasps as cool air hits her bare skin.
"Spread your legs," I command.
She obeys, and I drop to my knees on the gravel. The sharp stones bite through my pants but I don't care. Nothing matters except tasting her.
I push her thighs wider and bury my face between them. She tastes like heaven and sin, sweet and musky and perfect. I lick her slowly, savoring every drop.
"Oh God," she breathes, fingers tangling in my hair.
I focus on her clit, circling with the tip of my tongue before sucking hard. Her thighs tremble around my head as I work her with my mouth, adding two fingers inside her tight heat.
"More," she begs. "Please."
I curl my fingers, finding that spot that makes her see stars. She clamps a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries as I finger-fuck her while sucking her clit.
Her orgasm hits hard and fast. She convulses around my fingers, pussy clenching as she comes on my face. I don't stop, working her through it until she's shaking.
"Turn around," I order, standing.
She turns, bracing her hands on the fountain edge. I free my cock, stroking myself as I admire the view. Her ass curved toward me, pussy glistening in the moonlight.
"You're mine," I say, positioning myself at her entrance.
"Yours," she agrees.
I thrust into her in one hard stroke, both of us groaning at the sensation. She's so tight, so wet, gripping me like a fist.
I set a punishing pace, driving into her with deep, powerful strokes. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the garden along with her muffled moans.
"Harder," she gasps.
I grip her hips, slamming into her with everything I have. She pushes back to meet each thrust, taking me deeper than should be possible.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," I growl. "This perfect pussy was made for my cock."
She comes again, inner walls fluttering around me. The sensation pushes me over the edge. I bury myself deep and explode inside her, filling her with my release.
We stay connected, both breathing hard. I lean over her back, pressing kisses to her neck.
"I love you," I whisper.
She turns in my arms, eyes shining. "I love you too."
I reach into my jacket, pulling out the ring box I've carried for months. Her eyes widen as I open it to reveal my grandmother's Claddagh ring.
"This protected Devlin women for five generations," I say, taking her left hand. "I want you to wear it. I want you to be my wife."
Tears glisten in her eyes as I slide the ring onto her finger. It fits perfectly.
"Yes," she breathes. "Yes, I'll marry you."
I kiss her deeply, tasting our future on her lips. When we break apart, she touches the ring with wonder.
"When this war is over," I say, "I'm keeping you in our bed for a month. I'm going to worship every inch of your body until you forget there's a world outside our bedroom."
Her smile is pure sin. "Promise?"
"Promise."
We straighten our clothes and walk back toward the house, her hand in mine. The ring catches moonlight, marking her as mine for everyone to see.
Tomorrow brings violence and danger. Tonight brings love and promises.
Inside, the house bustles with preparation. Staff ready weapons while family members plan. At the center stands my future wife, directing everything with natural authority.
"After we're married," I whisper in her ear, "I want to get you pregnant. Fill you with my children."
Her breath catches. "How many?"
"As many as you'll give me."
She smiles, touching the ring. "Then we better survive tomorrow."
"We will." I pull her against me. "Because our story is just beginning."
The ring glints on her finger, heart pointing toward her own. Soon I'll make those vows official. When the smoke clears and our enemies lie in ruins.
When peace allows us to plan a wedding instead of a war.
But first, we have to destroy everyone who threatens what's ours.