30. Liath
LIATH
Oh God. He wanted me to—
Shame scalded through me, heat rising up my throat until I thought I’d choke on it. Every nerve screamed to recoil, to bolt. And yet a dark thrill betrayed me, a mutinous ache that started building in my lower belly.
I thought of Dervla. I thought of Maeve. I thought of every girl still trapped in Magdalene. I swallowed my protests and I sank down before him, the floorboard biting at my knees.
Just get it over with.
I swallowed hard, my trembling fingers finding the waistband of his sweatpants. The soft fabric bunched in my grip as I tugged downward in one sharp motion, exposing him completely.
My breath caught in my throat as his cock sprung free, heavy and thick, jutting proudly from a short crop of dark curls, perfect in a way that made my insides clench with unwanted need. A bead of moisture gathered at the tip, catching the dim light.
Despite myself, I felt saliva pooling beneath my tongue, my lips parting involuntarily.
“No teeth,” he warned with a sharp tug of my hair, my scalp stinging, “or I’ll fuck that ass instead and I won’t be gentle.”
I hated him. Hated that I was here, on my knees. Hated even more the traitorous heat that pooled low in my belly.
I parted my lips, letting him guide himself into my mouth. The size of him was foreign, heavy on my tongue, stretching my lips and throat. The taste of him—musky, male, and forbidden—coated my tongue, making my head swim.
He pushed in deeper, blocking my airway, making me gag. I tried to pull back, but his grip on the back of my head tightened, holding me in place as he pushed deeper.
“Relax your throat,” he said as if he was annoyed he had to train me.
Tears pricked my eyes as I struggled to accommodate him, my jaw already aching, the violins in my head crescendoing into something frantic, discordant.
“Passable,” he muttered, sounding almost bored as he rocked his hips forward in time with my movements.
As I moved up and down on his length, I tried to occupy my mind: the drug report in Alistair’s hidden study, the names on those papers, the vial and what the drug did. I went over it all piece by piece, trying to ignore what I was doing to pay off a debt.
Trying to ignore the stupid building ache inside me as a response to the feel of his thick cock gliding in and out of my mouth, to the intoxicating taste of his skin on my tongue.
This was a task. A debt. It had a start, an end, and a price. That is all.
I might have believed it.
Until he let out a low growl, broken and involuntary. Nothing like the flat, bored tone he’d used before.
My focus slipped as I slammed right back into my body.
I glanced up at him.
His breathing was ragged, his mouth slack. His gaze was glazed and unfocused, the smugness gone now, something in him starting to come apart at the edges. For all his dominance, his control was slipping.
And I was doing it to him.
I liked it. I hated that I liked it. I hated the small, ugly bloom of satisfaction that opened up under my resentment.
I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, swirling my tongue around his tip, drawing a strangled groan from him.
“Fuck,” he gasped, hips jerking forward.
I had no choice but to take him as he thrust relentlessly into my mouth, my jaw aching, tears streaming down my cheeks. The violins in my head reached a frenzied pitch as his body tensed, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.
Stalky thick heat flooded my mouth. I choked, instinctively trying to pull away, but his grip was iron as he pulsed against my tongue.
“Swallow,” he commanded, his voice hoarse. “Every. Last. Drop.”
I forced myself to obey, his salty taste coating my bruised throat, shame and fury warring in my chest.
He tucked himself back into his sweatpants, that cruel smirk returning as he looked down at me while I brushed the tears off my cheeks.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, steadied myself, and rose to standing.
I waited. I don’t know what I was expecting. A thank you. Praise.
He turned his back on me, crossed to his desk, and lit a cigarette without acknowledging me or what I’d just done. The lighter clicked. Smoke drifted. He settled into his chair again and picked up his book.
The dismissal hit quick and mean, and I stood there for one stupid second, still expecting more from him.
I’d probably done a poor job of it. That was grand. If I had, he might not call me back.
The thought should have been a relief.
It wasn’t.
Something small and furious pricked low in my chest as I left his room, slamming the door shut behind me.
Back in my bedroom, I leaned my back against my door and made myself breathe, eyes shut, my hand pressed flat against my sternum until my pulse stopped trying to climb out of my throat.
It’s grand. Bodies were just bodies. I had known that long before Lorcan Lasair.
The problem was I didn’t quite believe that it had meant nothing.
The next night, he summoned me again by text.
I was only going because I had no choice.
That lie held until I was halfway down the corridor with my pulse already running too fast and butterflies in my stomach.
I hated it. Hated the small, humiliating thread of anticipation coiled low and tight inside me.
Lorcan was at his desk again when I entered, in the same gray sweats, but he wasn’t reading. His gaze landed on me at once and stayed there, moving over me in one slow sweep that made the room feel hotter and somehow smaller too.
He rose and crossed to me without a word.
For a moment, he just scrutinized me.
My hands trembled at my sides, my mouth gone dry. Heat crept up my neck, pooled in my cheeks, twisted low in my belly. I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, hating the way my pulse skittered beneath my skin, betraying me with every rapid beat.
His hands found the straps of my nightgown and pushed them down off my shoulders. The fabric slid down and bunched at my waist. The air of the room hit my naked breasts and my nipples tightened to painful points.
His eyes moved over me. Something flickered in them, there and gone, before his assessing gaze came back to my face.
“Better.”
Heat rushed straight into my cheeks. But I didn’t move to cover myself up because some rotten part of me liked the way he was looking at me.
“Knees.”
I complied.
This time when I sucked him into my mouth, I urged that cold distance to come back over me.
But I was too present.
Too aware of how his thick cock stretched my mouth. Too aware of his eyes on me.
Too aware of his breathing turning rough, of the involuntary groans that escaped him, as if his neat control was already starting to slip.
I wanted to hate it. Wanted to hate him for making me do this.
But knowing I was cracking apart his composure did something to me.
A dark thrill rushed down my spine every time his fingers flinched against my scalp. A twisted kind of power sent electricity rushing through my veins every time he hissed or cursed.
I began exploring with my tongue, with my cadence, with the pressure of my mouth and my fist around his length just to steal more reactions out of him.
I became painfully aware of every traitorous answer in my own body, every flush of heat, every stuttering inhale.
Somehow, this had stopped feeling like a debt being paid and started feeling like mutual need.
It wasn’t long before his hips started jerking, his thighs trembling as he hurtled toward the edge.
A dark, savage hunger erupted inside me, burning away the rest of my humiliation.
I could unmake him.
I could shatter his control, could ruin the arrogant boy made of stone.
And God help me, I wanted to watch him come apart beneath my tongue again.
The power made my head swim and my thighs tremble. Something electric sparked from my core to my fingertips.
My free hand moved of its own accord, slipping down my stomach, past the band of my underwear.
I moaned against him as my fingers found slick heat, my hips bucking forward as I circled that sensitive bundle of nerves, my body betraying every lie I’d told myself since I’d first walked into his room.
Lorcan’s eyes widened as he stared down at me and I could only imagine what I looked like to him. Lips spread over his cock, breasts jiggling and damp with sweat, my hand rubbing furiously at my pussy, eyelids heavy with need.
His eyes locked on mine as his body went rigid. A broken sound tore from his throat as he came, hard and fast into my mouth. This time I greedily drank it down without being ordered to.
My own orgasm hit without warning, my movements faltering as pleasure overwhelmed me, my moan muffled around his cock.
For one heartbeat, his gaze held mine with raw intensity.
Then, just as abruptly, his cold mask dropped over his face again.
He stepped back from me, tucking himself back into his sweats as he turned away, shoulders stiff around his ears. He crossed the room and reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand. The only sign that anything had even happened was his breathing, still uneven and ragged.
He lit up with his back to me, the same dismissal as the first night, except now I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t unaffected.
I pulled up my nightgown to cover myself, wishing I had more clothes on, and left. I didn’t trust my face or my voice to behave if I stayed any longer.
I was furious at him and even more furious at myself. But buried under all of that, some stupid part of me was already scared that I’d somehow disappointed him. And that he might not send for me again.
By the third night, I was both dreading and waiting for his summons.
I hurried down the hallway after his message came, my pulse skittering too fast, my thoughts snagging on stupid details the whole way to his room. Would he make me wait again? Would he watch me? Would he touch me tonight?
I was furious at myself for every single one of those thoughts.
Lorcan was standing by the fire when I entered, one hand braced on the mantel, shirtless, in those damned gray sweats. He turned the moment I came through the door as if he’d been listening for my steps in the corridor.