12. Maeve
12
MAEVE
M y panties drop to the floor, and Ronan’s eyes don’t follow them. He has a way of pushing my buttons that makes it impossible for me to resist him. He gets under my skin, makes me so turned on, I can’t tell him no.
“Come,” he orders, and like a well-trained dog, I walk toward him. He sits on his chair stroking himself, angled slightly so his knees aren’t under the dining table, and I stand next to him. I reach for his hair and weave my hand through it while his fingers trace the curve of my hip and settle on my hip bone.
“You want to show me what I missed out on because we argued last time? So do it…” I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m an idiot. This man is a maniac and a murderer. He may have a soft side, which I can’t deny I’m surprised and pleased by, but he kills people and probably deals drugs and weapons.
Ronan’s hand squeezes my hip as he guides me toward himself. I lift a leg and straddle him, lowering slowly onto his lap. His hand leaves his own cock and cups my breast, kneading it. He lets out a soft groan of pleasure as my wet folds slide across his girth. I love the way his eyes drink me in, as if I’m the sweetest wine or the most expensive Scotch. In this moment, I’m the only thing he’s thinking of, and I have power over him. Even if he won’t admit it.
I work to loosen and remove his tie, then I unbutton his shirt as he grips my hips and moves them back and forth across his lap. His zipper rubs along my sensitive skin, making me wince, but his eyes only grow darker and his thumbs dig into my hip bones.
When his chest is bare, I trace the Celtic knot on his skin with my finger. I’ve seen it so many places. I never knew it was his family crest until I saw it here in his house. Hidden within it, so small you can only see it up closer, are the words “ An Tìr, An Clann, An T-òrdugh .” My Gaelic isn’t great, but I think it means, The Land, The Family, The Order. It’s fitting.
“What does it mean to you?” I ask, my voice a whisper as Ronan grinds his hips against me.
“Everything,” he growls, and then his lips are on mine, and I can’t think about anything else but the way he makes me feel.
Heat pools between my legs as his grip tightens on my hips, guiding me back and forth on his hard length. I moan into his mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders. He’s not even in me and he has me whimpering with pleasure.
“That’s right, mo chridh ,” he mumbles against my neck, his accent thickening. “You’re mine.”
Ronan’s hands travel up my sides, and I shiver as his fingertips leave goosebumps in their wake. His fingers lace with mine, and he pulls my arms over his shoulders where I rest them as I begin rocking my hips against him. His lips move along my jawline and down my neck, nipping at my collarbone. My breath hitches in anticipation of what I know is coming next. He knows it too because he smirks against my skin before sucking on the spot that makes me quiver.
I arch my back, trying to press myself closer to him, but Ronan reclaimed his grip on my hips, controlling our movements as always. Slowly, he rocks, his cock sliding through my moisture, teasing me. He’s controlled, and each calculated movement is meant to make me crave more.
One thumb reaches for my clit, and I hiss when he presses it. “You’re mine to do with as I please, Maeve, ” he rumbles, and his teeth sink down on my collarbone and then the tender flesh below it.
I whimper, wishing he would just fuck me already, but this is pleasant torture. He’s so ready to claim me again, and I want to prolong it.
“Ronan, please,” I whine, and the smug bastard actually chuckles.
“What do you want me to do, Maeve?” he asks, his hand still lazily stroking my wet core as he teases me with his tip. It’s torture. I don’t want to come like this. I want him in me.
“I… I want you,” I gasp. “Fuck me.”
“That’s my good girl,” he praises, and his teeth graze over the sensitive spot again.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, and he groans in pleasure. “Tell me again.”
“I—” I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I do. “I want you to fuck me.” I’m right on the edge, so close I can sense the orgasm’s first wave, and he takes my nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. I snap, coming apart in convulsions and waves. I dig my fingers into his shoulders harder, letting him slide my pussy along his length. It isn’t what I thought, but it’s good. I whimper and gasp, and when I’m calm, he kisses my lips again.
This time it’s a hungry kiss, devouring my mouth. He wraps a hand around the back of my head and crushes my lips against his.
“I’ll give you what you want, leanabh ,” he growls before he lifts me up, and with one swift movement, he is inside me.
I’m not his baby. I’m just his fuck toy. But I don’t care. “God, yes,” I grunt as he fills me.
Every inch of him is stretching me, and damn if it doesn’t feel good. Ronan’s hands brace on my hips as he slowly begins to move in and out of me. His grip on my waist tightens as he goes faster, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming.
“You like that?” he asks, his accent thick with lust and his eyes so dark I can barely make out his irises.
“Yes,” I moan. “I love it.” His cock hits my cervix, and I shudder. And when his hand comes down hard on my ass cheek, I whimper and beg for more. “Again.” The sting of pain makes me clench, and when I clench, he feels larger.
Ronan humors me, spanking me again as he bites down on my nipple. The stinging pain travels straight to my core. His words are like a drug, addictive as he spanks me again and again, each time the stinging more intense than the last, but I don’t care. I love every second of it.
“You want me to come in you?” he growls against my ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp as another orgasm builds in my core.
“Say it louder,” he demands, and I know he won’t be satisfied until I submit completely.
“I’m yours!” I scream as my orgasm takes over my body. My muscles contract around him, milking him for all he's worth, and Ronan growls against my skin and grunts. He’s close too, but all I can think about is the roiling ocean of pleasure sucking me in, making me a shuddering mess, until I feel his release inside me warm me through and I know he’s done.
I want to drape myself over his chest and bask in the relaxation permeating every cell in my body, but Ronan kisses me. His lips tease mine, his tongue searching my mouth. And when he pulls away, his hand cradles my face.
"You are a stunning creature, Maeve." His thumb caresses my cheek, and I wonder why he's being so soft, so gentle. He's so different from what I expect him to be in moments like this. It's almost as if he has feelings for me, like I’m not just another whore he's brought home. "There is no woman on this planet who holds a candle to your beauty."
I feel strangely vulnerable and yet deeply connected to him at the same time. I shouldn't feel this way. I should be disgusted by him, by my own desire to be with him. I should hate myself for wanting this, but he makes me feel so good.
"Ro—" I start, but he presses his thumb to my lips and I stop speaking.
"I want you here, Maeve, in my home, under my roof, in my bed, and by my side." His eyes search mine, and goosebumps spread across my arms.
He wants me here? By his side? What does that mean? I'm not interested in a relationship or partnership. I want to go back to being a surgeon, where I belong, and following my dream. So why is my heart flattered by that? I mean, I'm still very adamant that I want to go home, but it feels like he wants this to be my new home.
"Sir," I hear, and I instantly tense. He said no one would come in. He said we were alone. And for a few minutes, we were. I’m stark naked, straddling him on a chair in his dining nook, and his hands are holding me down.
"Ronan," I gasp, and I try getting up, but it's too late. One of his men bursts into the room, and I look down, ashamed. He can only see my back, but I'm mortified.
"Oh, sorry for interrupting. We have Shane…" The man whom I don't recognize stands in the doorway behind me, and my skin crawls.
"Where was he?" Ronan growls. He pushes my hips backward, and his dick, still slightly plump, slides out of me. I feel his cum drip from my body, though he carefully positions me so it drips to the floor, and he zips himself up.
"He was talking to Connor. Ro, we gotta stop this."
I watch Ronan's face as his eyes go wide, and curiosity gets the better of me. I look over his shoulder to see a man whose face is so bloodied I can't tell he's human. Horror and shock wash over me, and I feel nauseous. Ronan pushes me backward until I'm standing, covering my breasts so his men don't see them. I keep my back turned, but I think I'm the least of their interest.
Ronan leans in and grips my cheek again, planting a firm kiss on my lips. His stubble scrapes my already kiss-swollen lips, and he grumbles, "Let's continue this later." Then he rushes out, and I scramble to find my clothing. If it weren't bad enough to be walked in on, seeing that stripped every ounce of desire for Ronan O'Rourke out of my system.
I shake as I use his napkin to wipe myself clean, then put on my panties. My dress is wadded up. It takes a few minutes with trembling hands to turn it out so I can put it back on. One of my shoes has been kicked under the table, so I have to crawl under to retrieve it, and even as I do so, I hear shouting begin down the hall.
Tears shoot to my eyes, and I whimper. It's so loud. I can hear every word they're saying, screaming about someone named Eamon, calling him a traitor. I can't control the fear that courses through me, overpowering the relaxation I felt only moments ago. This terror is unreal. Ronan actually thinks I want to live through this as part of my daily life?
He was so sweet and kind, and now he's a monster. I can't do this.
I force my feet into my shoes, then make myself stand on wobbly knees. I tiptoe to the doorway and peek out. The voices are louder here, and I'm crying harder but they can't hear me over the screaming. There are no guards in the hallway like normal. My heart lurches in my chest. I could walk right out that door and be free.
The relief that thought brings me is suddenly mingled with the idea that if I do that, either Ronan's men will kill me, or he will. And strangely, I feel a tinge of sadness at the idea of not having him in bed beside me every night. But when I think of my mother alone in her home mourning me, I run.
I run for my life.
And no one sees me.