Eamon
The silence stretches between us, charged and electric. Her lips part slightly, her breathing uneven. I know I’m pushing her boundaries, testing the line between her defiance and her trust.
“You’re insane,” she murmurs, but there’s no conviction behind her words.
“You already knew that,” I reply, my voice low and deliberate.
And then I kiss her.
It’s not soft or tentative. It’s raw, consuming, a clash of anger, desire, and unspoken promises. Aoife’s hands tangle in my shirt as she pulls me closer, meeting my intensity with her own.
The wineglass in her hand slips to the floor, shattering as it hits the polished wood, but neither of us acknowledges it.
Her gasps melt into a moan as I lift her off the sofa, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. I carry her toward the bedroom, the heat between us drowning out everything else.
There’s nothing gentle about this—no slow burn or hesitation. Its passion and fury and the weight of months of longing snapping all at once. She clings to me like gravity itself is failing, tugging me closer like she can’t stand the thought of even an inch between us.
I push the bedroom door open with my shoulder. The soft light from the city spills through the windows, casting shadows across the dark wood floors and the king-sized bed that dominates the space. I don’t hesitate, lowering her onto the mattress.
Our lips never part, the kiss frantic and raw, all-consuming. My hands slide down her back, fingers finding the zipper of her dress. There’s an urgency I can’t control. I need her bare, her body beneath mine.
The zipper gives way under my touch, the fabric loosening and slipping from her shoulders as I push it down to her waist. My eyes drop to her breasts, full and perfect, barely contained by the delicate black lace of her bra.
The sight alone sends a surge of heat through me, tightening every muscle in my body.
I dip my head, pressing my lips to the curve of her collarbone, trailing lower as my hands slide up her sides. My thumbs glide over the lace, teasing her hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. She gasps, her body arching into me.
“Missed this,” I say as my tongue traces the edge of the lace.
I’ve craved this, craved her, every inch of her bare skin, the way her body moves beneath mine. Her dress slips lower as I shift, pulling it the rest of the way off, leaving her in nothing but black lace.
I pause for a moment, drinking her in, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts framed by the delicate fabric, her flushed skin begging for my touch.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I murmur, my voice rough and thick with need.
Her eyes meet mine, dark with desire, and she pulls me closer, her voice low and breathless. “Then stop looking and touch me.”
Her words snap the last thread of my restraint. My hands are on her instantly, sliding over her hips, tracing the curve of her waist as I press my body against hers. My lips find hers again, the kiss fierce and consuming, a collision of hunger and desperation.
I tug the lace straps off her shoulders, trailing my mouth down the line of her neck, over her collarbone, and lower.
My fingers slip beneath the edge of her bra, pulling it away to expose her completely.
She gasps as I take her nipple into my mouth, my tongue circling the sensitive peak while my hand moves to her other breast, teasing it with slow, deliberate strokes.
Her back arches, pressing into me, her fingers threading through my hair, tugging just enough to send a jolt of heat through me. “Eamon,” she breathes. The sound of my name on her lips is enough to push me further.
I shift, pressing kisses down her stomach, savoring the way her body trembles beneath me. Her thighs part instinctively, and I can feel the heat radiating from her. Pausing, I glance up at her before my hands glide up her legs, spreading them wider.
“You’re mine,” I say, my voice low and rough, claiming her as I lower myself between her thighs.
Her breath hitches, her body tightening beneath me as I taste her for the first time in months. I take my time, savoring every sound she makes, every shiver that ripples through her.
My tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing her. Pressing her thighs open wider, the tension builds until her hips begin to lift. Her moans grow louder, more desperate. But I don’t let her fall. Not yet.
Instead, I change the pace, alternating between slow, deliberate movements and faster, relentless strokes, keeping her suspended in that perfect, torturous moment. Her breathing grows ragged, her hands clutching at the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring her.
When she finally shatters, her cry echoes through the room, her body arching off the bed, her thighs quivering against my shoulders. I don’t stop, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from her until she collapses back onto the mattress, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening.
I move back up her body, my lips tracing a path over her skin, savoring every shiver, every soft gasp that escapes her lips. I don’t stop until I’m hovering over her again, my weight braced on my forearms.
Her eyes meet mine, wide and full of desire. Her lips part slightly, and she reaches for me, her fingers trailing up my arms, pulling me closer.
“I want you,” she whispers, her voice low and thick with need. “I need to feel you.”
Her words ignite something primal, a hunger that I’ve kept buried for too long. The space between us feels electric, charged with everything we’ve been holding back. I lower myself until my lips brush hers. The kiss is slow and teasing as I let the tension between us stretch for a moment longer.
“You have me,” I murmur against her lips. “Every part of me.”
The world falls away as I push into her in one smooth, deliberate motion. Her gasp melts into my groan as I bury myself fully inside her. It’s raw, consuming, a perfect storm of passion and fury, every touch igniting a desire that burns hotter with each second.
She matches me movement for movement, her legs wrapping tightly around me, pulling me deeper.
Aoife’s nails rake down my back, a delicious sting that only fuels the fire raging between us.
Her moans grow louder, raw and unrestrained, each sound driving me further, harder as if I can’t get close enough to her.
“You’re mine,” I growl against her ear, claiming her with every word, every movement. “Say it.”
Her breath hitches as her hips meet mine, desperate and demanding. “I’m yours,” she gasps.
The words ignite something feral inside me, the need to possess her completely, to leave no doubt in her mind that she belongs to me. My pace quickens, my hand sliding down to grip her thigh, spreading her wider beneath me.
Her body trembles beneath mine, her head tilting back as my lips find her throat, pressing kisses along the delicate line of her neck, my teeth grazing her pulse.
I press deeper, my movements deliberate, every thrust meant to remind her of exactly what she’s done to me.
“I’ve thought about this every damn night,” I confess, my voice low and rough.
“The way you feel, the way you sound, the way your body moves under mine. I couldn’t forget it, even when I tried. ”
Her eyes lock with mine, the vivid green darkening, swirling with desire and an intensity that holds me captive, daring me to take everything she’s offering. “You don’t have to forget. I’m here now.”
The words hit me harder than I expect, unraveling me from the inside as I drive into her harder, faster, claiming her in every way I’ve craved since the moment she disappeared.
Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer as the intensity between us builds, a tidal wave threatening to crash. She’s close, teetering on the edge. I’m relentless, driving her higher and higher, determined to take her with me as the tension between us spirals to its breaking point.
“Come for me,” I command, my voice rough and possessive. Her response is immediate. Her body clenches around me, her cry raw and unrestrained as she gives herself over completely.
The sight, the sound, the feel of her unraveling beneath me is enough to tip me over the edge.
A guttural groan tears from my throat as I bury myself deep, my body shuddering with the force of my release.
It’s raw and consuming, a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves me breathless.
For a moment, everything else fades—there’s only her, only us.
I collapse against her, both of us breathing hard, our bodies still tangled as the aftershocks ripple through us. Her arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I press my forehead to hers, the weight of what just happened sinking in.
“You’re mine, Aoife,” I murmur again, softer this time, a promise rather than a demand.
She doesn’t respond, but the way she clings to me says everything I need to hear.