THIRTY-FOUR #2
His hair, roots as dark as night, resembles the shadows he commands, the tips barely brushing his shoulders as silver as the moon.
I study every hard line of his body, every dip and smooth plain, every muscle rippling beneath his tanned skin.
He’s a six-foot-six two-hundred-and-fifty-pound hazard to my health.
My stomach flutters when the mattress dips under him. His shadows kiss my exposed skin. Cool and soft.
Grabbing hold of my thighs, he flexes his fingers above my knees before pulling me to him, and my head falls against the bed. I reach for his belt and the button beneath it. I want to see him, touch him. All of him. Sex doesn’t have to lead to anything more than an escape.
He wastes no time pulling my top over my head, halting my efforts to undress him first. “Greedy, aren’t you?” A sensual chuckle rumbles up his throat, and I melt.
“Now, be a good girl and stop trying to get me naked before I so much as get your boots off.” I narrow my eyes at him in response.
Reaching for him again, I try to bring him closer, but he only smiles that wicked, crooked grin, clicking his tongue in reprimand.
His shadows pin my hands to the bed, ice against the fire burning through me.
“Do you have a safe word, Mo Stóirín?” I’m momentarily taken aback, unfamiliar with the concept. My stomach flutters.
Whether responding to the look on my face or reading my mind, he answers, “Choose a word. One word. If you say it, I’ll stop. No questions asked.”
“Ginger,” I answer breathlessly, thinking of the root I dislike.
“Ginger?” He raises a brow. “Yeah, that will do the trick.” His smile is relaxed, yet something in the curve of his mouth dares me. “Do you trust me?”
His thumb traces the curve of my bottom lip.
I instinctively relax my jaw, gazing up at him as he looks down at me.
Our height difference becomes evident, with my chin aligning with his navel.
The pad of his thumb glides over my teeth, skimming my tongue.
I eagerly enclose my lips around his thumb, yearning for more.
The intensity in his eyes mirrors my desire as I feel his cock twitching beneath his leathers.
He slowly removes his thumb from my mouth. “You asked for an escape.” With a seductive smile, he places that same thumb against his lips. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
Butterflies dance frantically in the pit of my stomach, their imaginary wings brushing against my insides. I bite down on my lip. What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?
“You want me to weigh in for clarity?” A voice drawls in the darkest depths of my mind.
“No!”
In one swift motion, he secures his shadowy restraints, and I gasp. My attention snaps to the figure before me, noticing the intensity in his eyes.
“Hands above your head.” His command is forgiving, demonstrating the confident control he’s possessed since the first night I laid eyes on him.
The control he’s only ever lost when pushing me against the wall.
Everything this man does is deliberate, intentional, either to coax a reaction or to hide his own.
My arms above my head with my wrists bound together, I feel him trace a line down my neck and between my breasts. “Who would have known that the promise of fucking instils manners in you? If I’d known sooner—”
“Shut up!” I exclaim in a whisper, my core tightening further.
“I love these.” His mouth closes around my nipple, warm and soft, his tongue circling around it. My head rolls back in a moan as I bring my hands to rest between his shoulder blades. His mouth leaves my skin. “What did I say about your hands?”
“You’re insufferable,” I bite back, but do as he says.
His palm flattens to my chest, guiding me back until I’m flat against the feathery duvet beneath me.
I swallow when that same hand roams down my body, touching me with the tips of his fingers.
Down my stomach, over my navel, until he traces along the waistband of my pants, toying with me.
“Breathe. Don’t think about what comes next. Breathe. Feel.” His words are like a caress.
My chest rises and falls without rhythm when he inches my pants down to my knees, taking my boots at the heel to remove them.
I’m completely bare before him, stripped of all clothing save for the band of shadows wrapped around my wrists.
Looking down at my body, I see him kneeling before me.
The sight alone is my undoing. Odhran, a prince, an immortal heir to the throne, kneels at my feet, at my disposal.
Or maybe I’m the one at his disposal. Who fucking cares.
“I’ve got you.” His eyes flare as he pulls me farther down the bed, draping my thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders.
His mouth is fire against my skin, his tongue like magic, circling my clit. Sucking and licking, he pushes me to the edge of a precipice I want to jump from. My heart pounds in my ears. I want to fall. I want to fall with him.
“Breathe, Mo Stóirín.” Plunging his tongue into me, he groans, the vibration pushing me further toward that ledge.
“Oh gods, Odhran! Don’t stop,” I cry out, fisting the duvet above my head as my back arches from the bed. “Please, please don’t stop.” But he does, climbing his way up my body, replacing his mouth with his fingers as he rubs his thumb over my clit. Over and over.
“My name sounds good on your lips.” He smiles.
“Odhran Cian Delaney…” I breathe, rolling my head against the bed. His lips trail up and down my throat, nipping and kissing.
His voice is like silk, soft and sensual. “Look at me. I want to see those eyes of yours when you let go.” Biting into my lip, I fear I might draw blood, but I do as he says.
“Breathe in…” His fingers find my entrance.
My back arches off the bed, straining against the soft sheets. My hips buck against his hand, my pleas escaping in a desperate whisper, “More. Please…”
“You’re so beautiful. So perfect. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.” That mouth of his. Those words. Oh, gods, save me.
“Breathe in…” He slides one finger inside me, curling it against my inner walls, and I think I might burst into flames. An invisible coil tightens inside of my core, begging for release.
“Breathe out.” He withdraws his finger at the same time.
His lips seal over mine, and my body becomes liquid in his hands. His tongue moves against mine, in perfect rhythm with his hand. The ledge draws closer.
“Odhran!” I cry out as my body tightens around him.
“So fucking perfect.” His voice is so deep, so smooth. Ice-cold shadows surround us, grazing every exposed inch of me, worshipping me. My skin tightens with goosebumps.
“Breathe in.” He whispers against my lips, inserting a second finger, spreading me open, pushing me off that cliff.
I scream his name as I fall, but I don’t hit the ground.
I soar, riding his hand and grabbing handfuls of feathers and torn silk from the ripped duvet above my head.
My walls close around him as my pulse surges into a sprint.
His mouth is on mine, drinking in my moans as if for his own survival.
He doesn’t stop moving, not even when I do.
He only slows. Thrusts become caresses. Stimulation becomes praise. He’ll be the end of me.
I slowly open my eyes, and the sight of him smiling down at me fills my vision.
A shiver runs through my body as he withdraws his fingers.
They glisten in the dim light as he brings them to his mouth, savouring the taste.
My cheeks heat watching him, and every nerve ending in my body sparks to life.
“You’re my favourite meal.” He winks at me, bringing me back to our conversation in the woods.
“I want to touch you,” I tell him. “Please.”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” His eyes search mine as I speak.
Reluctantly, he relaxes the shadows around my wrists.
Finally, my hands are free to explore his body. I reach for his pants, and this time, he lets me. My stomach flutters, my core tightens, and my skin burns with desire as if I hadn’t had an orgasm moments ago.
He helps me by pushing his leathers down, freeing his cock.
My fingers wrap around him, feeling that he’s rock hard, yet his skin is so soft at the same time.
Exploring the length of him, I run my fingers over the broad head to find a bead of moisture at the end.
His groan is guttural when I pump my fist down his thick shaft.
“Come here,” he rasps, grabbing my knee to draw me closer, draping my leg over his hip so we lay face to face. I study the lines forming and fading on his brow with every movement of my hand, relishing in the power I have over him.
“I must be the greediest bastard to walk this earth.” His words spur me on as my fingers glide over him. “I wanted to take my time with you, but right now, all I want to do is fill you with my cum until it drips down your pretty bare legs.” He groans, clenching his jaw. Holy shit!
Sliding a finger inside me, I gasp at his touch, the urgency of it.
Curling his finger, he withdraws, only to insert another.
My head spins. That ledge comes back into focus when he inserts a third, stretching me, preparing me.
My leg curls behind him, and I gasp, bringing us closer, needing more.
Every thrust pushes me closer again to that imaginary ledge.
Every thrust causes wave upon wave of pleasure to flood my senses, driving me mad.
I swallow, looking into his eyes. Bringing him to my entrance, I feel him withdraw his fingers from inside me. They’re wet with my arousal when he flexes them against my ass.
“Are you sure?” His control is on the precipice of shattering, but he’s thinking of me. I don’t know what to make of it, and I don’t try.
I swallow, searching those piercing grey eyes. No turning back. “Yes.”
Positioning himself above me, he fists himself in his hand, then moves to my entrance. The first tight inch steals my breath, and I arch off the bed, unable to fill my lungs.