13. Ronan
Chapter 13
Ronan
H er lips against his own made his thoughts short-circuit, but the little voice came through to his ears easily enough.
What are you doing, Ronan? What are you doing?
She was a witness—that alone should have given him pause. But no part of her heat against his skin felt wrong. He’d wanted her from the moment he laid eyes on her and every moment since. It might end badly, might cost him his job, but the joy blazing in his heart couldn’t be wrong, could it?
Fuck protocol. Fuck this case. All that mattered was her .
The heat of her was intoxicating, the musky-sweet smell of her flesh, the clean lemon scent of her hair. The softness of her lips, the hardness of her shoulder against his arm as she shifted forward, slipping her hand between his legs, moaning into his mouth when she felt his dick, stiff and ready.
He was a man who’d learned to trust his gut, saved more lives than he could count by relying on his instincts, and right now, every cell in his body was screaming yes . Was there anything more beautiful in this fleeting life than those shared moments, completely and utterly immersed in someone else?
He wasn’t sure—it had never happened to him before. But it felt right, even necessary. This feeling was something he’d always wanted but never had: honest emotion, free from pretense.
Unless she wants something from you , Paddy’s voice whispered in his brain. Maybe she wants you on her side so you’ll protect her.
But Jenny didn’t need to earn his protection—she already had it. He’d been caught in her orbit for months, unable to pull himself free, every glance, every dream, dragging him further under.
The evening sunlight glinted off the hood of his car and painted her face in a hazy yellow that accentuated her high cheekbones and made her eyes shine with lust. He drew his fingers down the side of her face and to the hollow of her throat. Feeling her heartbeat against his thumb. Fast—so fast.
“Are you nervous?”
“No.” She released his groin and tugged the top button on his shirt instead.
When it came free, she moved on to the next, baring his flesh all the way to his belt. Jenny leaned her upper body across the console to unbuckle his pants, tearing the zipper free. He shivered as she buried her head in his lap, slipping his cock between her lips.
For a moment, he just moaned, letting her have her way with him, the pressure so intense that his eyes watered as she bobbed her head up and down. Her tongue massaged his shaft, flicking against the tip before she sucked him back into her throat.
“Jesus,” he moaned. He resisted the urge to tangle his fingers in her hair—she clearly didn’t need his guidance. “You’re fucking amazing.”
She dragged her tongue from the base of his shaft up past the tip, then lifted her face. “Do you want to fuck me, Detective?”
“Is that what you want, Deputy?” It was weird to say deputy like that, but he didn’t know her real name—it wasn’t Jenny. And he didn’t want to use the name she’d adopted out of fear. Not now.
His cock twitched, fingers itching to grab her, to fuck that pretty mouth of hers. Instead, he remained still—restrained. Her eyes were hooded with naked desire, breath coming sharp and fast, but he needed to hear her say it.
He brushed the hair from her forehead. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I need to know that this is what you want. I’m not going to use my role as a detective in some bullshit power play. This is your decision.” His dick twitched again like it was begging her to say yes. It was—oh, it was.
When she spoke, her voice was low. “In this car, with you… it’s the only place I’ve felt safe in years.”
He trailed his thumb over her cheekbone, searching her face for signs of uncertainty. He saw none. “I’m not sure that’s a reason to fuck me. No matter what happens here, I’ll still protect you.”
Her eyes glistened, and she angled her mouth down, planted a kiss on his thumb. “It’s not about that. It’s… I mean, logically, I know I’m not safe. But you make me believe that I’ll be okay. Except…” She gripped his cock in her fist, working him up and down, drawing a moan from his belly. A rush of heat exploded in his veins.
“Except?” he gasped out.
Her eyes cut left. “Maybe we should move to the backseat.”
He shook his head. “I have a better idea.”
He pulled his hand from her cheek, she dropped his cock, and the absence of her irritated his flesh as if they were magnets being pulled together. But he forced himself from the driver’s seat, yanking off his shirt, kicking his pants to the dirt as he walked around to her side and threw open the door.
She blinked at him as she took his hand, letting him pull her from the car and into the setting sun.
The moment she was on her feet, he snatched her to him, crushing his body against hers. Their mouths found each other, teeth and tongues, heat and need, and a passion he’d never known. Of all the women he’d been with, none of them had needed him , not really. They’d wanted his money. They’d wanted his body. But they didn’t know him, had no desire to peel back his defenses and look at what was underneath.
Jenny did—he felt it in the way she returned his intensity, her fingers talons in his hair, her ankle hooked around his hip, cementing his body against hers in a desperate dance. She’d already taken her sneakers off—comfy-looking things with wide rubber soles. Her jeans were already unbuttoned, too, and he shifted back slightly to slide his hand down the front of her pants, shoving the zipper down with his knuckle until his middle finger found the slippery opening between her legs.
“Fuck,” she breathed out. “I’ve never been this wet.”
“I can make you wetter,” he whispered into her open mouth. “Just give me a chance, Deputy.”
She laughed, but he could feel the tension in her shoulders. He brushed his lips against her cheek, then looked into her hazel eyes, rings of amber made orange by the sunlight.
“Let me know if you want me to slow down,” he said, slipping his finger in and out of her slick cunt. “I’ll do absolutely anything it takes to make you feel good. And if you need me to stop?—”
“I don’t want you to stop.” As if to prove it, she pulsed her hips against his hand. “It’s just…” She gestured to her sweater, but he knew what she was really pointing to: the scars.
His chest clenched—sorrow for whatever she’d been through, rage that someone had hurt her. “Let’s take this off,” he said, stroking the soft cotton over her shoulder, the fingers of his other hand still working her hot, slippery center.
“Maybe we should leave it on,” she said, averting her gaze—looking down. “It’s one thing to see them across a dark parking lot, but I might… gross you out up close.”
Fucking hell. “Never,” he said, cupping her chin in his hand, and when she raised her eyes to his, he went on, “Not in a million years. I want to see your skin. Your tight muscles. That warm, wet pussy.” He slipped a second finger inside her, massaging her G-spot.
She gasped but made no move to take off her sweater.
Ronan pulled his hand from her pants. He dropped to his knees and slipped her jeans and underwear down her hips, baring her shaved cunt, her juices glistening in the sunlight. He lifted each ankle to remove the garment, then planted a chaste kiss on the mound between her thighs.
She watched him as he spread her lower lips with his thumbs.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. Then he dipped his tongue into her opening and ran her wetness up over the hood of her clit.
She moaned out, “Just so you know… I have an IUD. And I haven’t had sex in seven years.”
He raised his face, staring into her eyes. “Oh, you poor thing. That’s far too long.” To emphasize the point, he drew his teeth to her clit, nipping gently, making her moan louder. She ran her fingers through his hair, but instead of relaxing into the pleasure, she tugged, pulling his gaze back to hers.
“What about you?” she asked.
Oh, right. “It’s been a year. And I get tested for STDs every six months working in law enforcement.”
And because it was a habit—his mother had taken them to get tested every year starting in high school. It had surely been a necessary habit in her youth, too.
Ronan lifted the lower hem of her sweater and trailed his lips from one hip to the other. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he repeated.
When her abdominal muscles relaxed, he drew the sweater and his mouth higher up over her belly button.
She did not resist when he rose to his feet, tugging the sweater up over her bra, pressing his lips to every inch of newly bared flesh. When he reached her nipples, she raised her arms, giving him permission.
Ronan whipped the shirt up and off like a bandage, and when she laid her hands against her chest to cover herself, he captured her mouth with his and reached behind her to unhook her bra. Tugging it off her shoulders. Gently, gently, gently, until she dropped her arms.
He stepped back. Jenny stood before him, sun shimmering against her naked skin, her lip trapped between her teeth, her eyes locked on his. Waiting for his reaction. Waiting to see the disgust in his face.
He raised his thumb to the place where her ribs met. She hissed an inhale as he dragged his fingers over the scar—bigger than he’d realized. A dark, shiny maroon that edged between her breasts, hitched a left at her clavicle, deepened over her heart, and branched like lightning to her shoulder.
Two wounds? No. He studied the lighter scar between her breasts. These weren’t done with one stroke of a blade. Three?
“He tied me up for a week after I rented a place for my mother out of state. This was after he managed to secure guardianship by gaslighting her into believing… Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I used a fake name, but he still found out.”
That was quite a feat. Was the guy a hacker? Was he just really good at surveillance? But he pushed the thoughts aside as she went on.
“He’d come in, ask me questions about whether I intended to leave him—cut me more if he thought I was lying.” Her voice shook. “He said he’d make me so ugly that no one else would ever want me.”
His heart twisted—breaking for her because he knew exactly what happened when a psychopath got inside your brain. But he managed, “He failed.” Let me show you how glorious you are.
She whined when he brushed his lips against the healed wound, the muscles in her back tightening. He slid his thumb against her shoulder blade, flicking his tongue out along the edge of the scar. When the muscles in her back relaxed, he moved his mouth higher, repeating the pattern until he’d traced every inch of it with his lips, his tongue.
He brought his mouth to her throat. “I want to see all of you spread out in that setting sun, Beauty. Let me touch every inch of your gorgeous body. Let me taste you.”
She hissed an inhale—she was barely breathing. “I thought I was your deputy.”
“Not right now.” Maybe not ever again. “Beauty” was… right . He brought his lips to hers.
She melted into him, flesh on flesh.
He shifted them to the front of the car and leaned her back against the hood. Ronan stood there for a moment, admiring her—nipples hard, her knees bent against the front grill, baring her glistening pussy. Inviting him in.
He slipped a finger inside her, then drew the wetness to her right breast, watching her face as he smeared that sweet juice over her nipple.
“Tell me what you like, Beauty. Do you like this?”
She arched her back in response, lip trapped between her teeth once more but not nervous this time. The look in her eyes was pure lust.
She nodded.
He used his other hand to tease her left nipple the same way, then pulled that hand back down between her legs, pressing one knee then the other wide. Splaying her out.
He used his index and middle to tug the hood of her clit up, exposing that most sensitive nub of flesh. Then he lowered his mouth and flicked the tip of his tongue against it.
She groaned louder. Her eyes slipped closed.
He repeated the act, lapping at her, pausing to nip at that pink bud when her breath hitched. He rotated his knuckle against the front wall of her pussy, and when he hit the sweet spot, her back arched, and she moaned so loud that he chuckled.
“That’s it, eh?”
“Yes. Jesus Christ, yes,” she gasped. “How’d you know? I mean, do you just know your way around every woman’s body?”
“You told me,” he murmured, never slowing his pace, keeping her hood pulled back to expose that tender pearl of sensitive tissue. “Last night in the window… I paid attention. Imagined what it would be like if it was me between your legs. Imagined how you’d taste, how you’d feel around my cock. How you’d sound when you came, whether you’d whisper my name or scream it.”
He grabbed her hips and tugged her lower, the head of his dick aimed at her sopping-wet opening.
“Do you want me, Beauty?” he asked.
He rotated his hips, teasing her with the head of his cock, slipping it over her clit, then down between her pussy lips.
“Shut up and fuck me,” she hissed.
Ronan smiled and edged inside her, feeling her muscles clench around him. Her clit was swollen against his thumb, and he toyed with it as he inched inside—slowly, slowly, slowly. She raised her hands to her nipples, and he bent double to lap at the left one.
He’d intended to go slow, to make her beg, to make her come with his fingers before he properly fucked her, but that tight, pulsing wetness was driving him insane. It was pure instinct to thrust his hips, burying himself in her depths, and then his hands were on her ass, squeezing, raising her just-so while he slammed into her again and again and again. Her long, loud moaning filled his ears, the sight of her pinching her own nipples nearly enough to make him come.
She opened her eyes suddenly and pushed herself onto her elbows. Ronan lowered her ass to the hood and reached for her, pulling her to him, never slowing the pulsing of his hips. His arms slipped around her back. Their lips pressed together, tongues flicking out to find each other.
“I wish I’d known you before,” she said into his mouth. “Before I was… his.”
“You’ll never belong to anyone again,” he said.
But he was lying, and he knew it. He’d never been a possessive man, but he was claiming her all the same.
“I know. But I wish…” She threw her head back, a tiny whispered shriek emanating from her lips.
Mine , he thought. Mine . But only if she’d have him. Only if he could be hers, too.
And he was. Oh, god, he was.
He dragged his left hand over her spine to her ass, supporting her as he fucked her, pounding into that tight wet cunt for all he was worth.
“Suck on my nipples,” she hissed, leaning back in his arms, offering up her gorgeous, bouncing tits. “ Hard .”
Holy shit. He lowered his face, massaging that sweet, puckered flesh with his tongue as he accelerated his pace. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth as hard as he could.
She screamed, a sound of pure ecstasy. Oh, Beauty. Yes. When he sucked again, nipping the tip, she cried out more loudly—“Ronan, oh god, Ronan!”—and then she was shuddering, arching, her body a writhing mass of tight muscles.
They all released at once. The intense pulsing of her pussy around his dick drove him over the edge, but he did not slow his pace. He fucked her harder, the deep contractions of her cunt milking every drop from his body.
He stood there, locked inside her until the pulsing stopped. She wrapped her arms around him, their eyes on one another, their breath mingling between them in the sultry evening.
What were they going to do now? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he cared. He was drunk on this woman in a way that whiskey had never been able to accomplish.
He was lost.
He was hers.
Hopefully, she’d be his savior and not his downfall.