Chapter 29
Dervla
Itighten my grip on him and enjoy the way his control slips.
The polished tyrant with the blueprint brain and the perfect answers goes rough in my hands in under ten seconds. His mouth breaks from mine, and he drops his forehead to my throat with a muttered, filthy swear that makes heat pulse low in my stomach all over again.
“Look at you,” I whisper, dragging my hand once more just to feel him tense. “All that control, gone.”
He lifts his head. His eyes are dark and direct, his mouth wet from me, his jaw tight with restraint that is clearly hanging by a thread.
“Careful,” he says.
I smile because that sounds too much like a challenge. “Or what?”
His hand closes over mine. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to stop me. He pins my wrist to the mattress beside my head and shifts his hips so the weight of him presses me down.
“Or I stop being nice.”
I laugh softly. “You were being nice?”
His expression changes in a way that sends heat straight through me. “You really want to test that tonight?”
“Yes.”
The answer is out before I can make it clever.
Something sharp flashes in his eyes at that, something pleased and dangerous.
He kisses me once, hard enough to shut me up, then drags his mouth down my jaw to my throat while his free hand slides between us.
He strokes me with two fingers, slow and deliberate, through the wet mess he already made of me, and my whole body jumps.
“No more words, pixie,” he murmurs and rams his cock into me hard enough to force me further up the bed.
I gasp and claw at his back because there is no easing into him, no mercy in the way he takes what he wants.
He fills me in one brutal thrust and stays there for one second, his mouth at my throat, both of us breathing hard.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” he says against my skin, and then he starts moving.
He fucks me with hard, measured strokes that turn messy almost immediately because my body is already too sensitive, already wrecked from his mouth and his fingers. Every thrust drags another sound out of me. He gets them too easily, but I am beyond giving a fuck.
His hand leaves my wrist and slides down to my hip, gripping hard enough to hold me in place while he drives into me again. The bed shifts beneath us. My head presses into the mattress. My nails dig into his back, and he gives a sharp exhale that sounds too much like approval.
He splits me open and gives me exactly what I asked for.
His mouth comes down on mine again. He kisses me hard, swallowing every broken breath, every filthy little sound. I kiss him back because there is no other option. Because if I don’t put some of this heat somewhere, I’ll burn up with it.
He changes the angle and hits something deep enough to make my vision go white for a second.
I break the kiss on a gasp. He catches it, eyes locked on mine, and does it again.
My legs spread wider on instinct, and he notices. One hand grips my thigh and keeps me open while the other braces by my head. He watches my face as he fucks me, like the evidence matters.
It does. I know it does, because he looks almost drunk on it.
I drag my nails down his back again, and he swears, thrusts harder, and I feel the rhythm turn vicious. The restraint is still there, but it is hanging on by a thread. I want it gone. I want him as ruined as I am.
Without a sound, I clamp my legs around him and force him over so I’m on top.
His eyes widen for half a beat before that dangerous satisfaction settles across his face.
He looks up at me with his hands on my hips, dark hair wrecked, chest heaving, and the sight of him underneath me does something primal to my brain.
I brace both hands on his sexy, tattooed chest and roll my hips.
The angle is deeper this way, fuller, and the first slow grind pulls a sound out of both of us that neither of us can hide.
His fingers dig into my hips hard enough to bruise, and I want them to.
I want every mark. I want proof that the man who plans everything couldn’t plan for this.
I ride him with no grace and no mercy. Every movement is instinct, raw and selfish, chasing the feeling that’s building at the base of my spine. His cock hits deep with every downstroke, and I watch his face crack open inch by inch as the control falls apart beneath me.
His jaw clenches. His stomach tightens. His hands slide from my hips to my arse and grip hard, pulling me down onto him with enough force to make my entire body tremble.
The door opens, and I look over my shoulder to see Cormac and Declan.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Cormac mutters.
“Come over here and make it hotter,” I murmur and turn back to ride Aidan harder.
Cormac doesn’t hesitate. He pulls his shirt over his head and crosses the room in three strides, the carved letters on his forearm still raw and red. Declan closes the door behind him.
Aidan’s hands tighten on my arse. He hasn’t stopped moving beneath me, hasn’t broken rhythm, and the fact that two other men just walked in and he doesn’t give a single fuck about it tells me everything I need to know about whatever storm is brewing between us.
Cormac reaches the bed, and his hand slides into my hair from behind, tilting my head back.
He kisses me upside down, rough and possessive, and the taste of him mixed with the feel of Aidan inside me is enough to make my brain short-circuit.
I moan into his mouth and feel Aidan’s grip bruise deeper into my skin in response.
Declan stands at the edge of the bed, watching.
Not frozen. Deliberate. His dark eyes track every movement with that quiet intensity that makes my skin prickle, like he’s memorising every detail for later use.
That patience of his, the one that makes him the most dangerous of the three in ways none of them would admit.
Cormac breaks the kiss and drags his mouth down my throat, biting at the spot where my pulse hammers. I gasp, and Aidan takes that moment to thrust up into me so hard my whole body jolts forward.
“Eyes on me,” Aidan says from beneath me, voice wrecked and commanding at the same time.
I look down at him. His jaw is tight, his eyes burning with something that goes beyond want. I roll my hips again, slower this time, grinding down on him until his head tips back and his throat works on a swallow.
Cormac’s hand slides down my spine, rough and warm, tracing each vertebra like he’s counting them. His mouth stays at my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks that everyone on campus will see tomorrow because I’ll make sure of it.
“Dec,” I breathe, because he’s still standing there, still watching, and I want him closer. I want all of them.
He moves then. Unhurried. He strips his shirt off and sits on the bed beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against my knee. His hand finds my face, turning me toward him, and he kisses me with a slowness that is the exact opposite of everything else happening in this room.
It undoes me faster than the brutality.
His mouth is careful. Not tentative. Careful in the way of someone who knows precisely what they’re doing and wants me to feel every second of it.
His thumb traces my jaw while his tongue slides against mine, and the contrast between his measured kiss and Aidan’s relentless cock and Cormac’s teeth at my throat makes my whole body clench.
Aidan groans beneath me. “Fuck, do that again.”
I don’t know which part he means, but my pussy tightens around him anyway. I kiss Declan harder, and the sound Aidan makes is worth every ounce of sanity I’m burning through.
Cormac’s hands find my breasts from behind, his palms covering me, thumbs dragging over my nipples until I arch back into him and break from Declan’s mouth on a gasp that sounds wrecked even to my own ears.
“Greedy,” Cormac murmurs against my skin, and the word drips with approval.
Declan shifts, and his hand slides down my stomach, past my navel. His fingers press against my clit, and the first stroke is so precise, so devastatingly controlled, that my vision whites out for a full second.
“Oh, fuck,” I choke.
Cormac palms my breasts harder, rolling my nipples between his fingers, pinching them, tugging them, until the pleasure-pain of it shoots straight down to where Declan is working me open.
I’m caught between the three of them, suspended in sensation so intense it borders on violence, and I don’t want any of it to stop.
I ride Aidan harder. My thighs burn. My arms shake where I’m braced against his chest. Declan keeps circling my clit in those slow, maddening strokes that are completely at odds with the pace Aidan is setting beneath me.
Cormac bites down on my shoulder, and the sting makes me cry out, makes everything tighter, hotter, closer to the edge that I’m already teetering on.
My orgasm hits like a detonation. It rips through me from the inside out, every nerve ending firing at once, my body clamping down on Aidan so hard he swears and grabs my hips with bruising force.
I shake apart between the three of them, Cormac holding me upright from behind, Declan’s fingers still working me through it, Aidan buried so deep inside me I can feel him everywhere.
The sound I make isn’t pretty. It’s raw and broken and pulled from somewhere I didn’t know existed, and I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything except the wave that keeps crashing through me, relentless, dragged out by Declan’s touch and Aidan’s cock and Cormac’s hands and mouth until I’m shaking so hard I can barely hold myself up.
Cormac catches me. His arm bands across my chest, pulling me back against him, and I sag into the solid wall of his body while the aftershocks rip through me in jagged pulses.
My breathing is destroyed. My thighs are trembling.
Aidan is still hard inside me, still gripping my hips, and the look on his face is feral patience—a man who isn’t finished.
“Good girl,” Declan says quietly, and the words land somewhere deep and dangerous inside me.
Cormac eases me forward, and I brace against Aidan’s chest, my palms flat on his tattoos, feeling his heart slamming under my hands. He’s holding himself back. I can see the cost of it in the tendons of his neck, the tight line of his jaw, the white-knuckle grip on my hips.
“Don’t stop,” I whimper.
Cormac takes that as an invitation and undoes his pants. He presses his cock to my already stuffed pussy, and I gasp as he eases inside alongside Aidan’s cock.
The stretch is brutal.
“I’ve never—” I cry out, but it’s cut off by the sheer intensity of being double-stuffed.
Cormac chuckles. “We’re corrupting her.”
“Yes,” I moan. “Corrupt me.”
The pressure turns into something filthy and overwhelming.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
Declan’s hand slides up my thigh, steady and grounding. “Look at me.”
I do.
“Let them do filthy things to you like a good girl. Let me see them ravage you.”
“Yes,” I pant. “Yes.”
Aidan thrusts up from beneath me while Cormac pushes in deeper from behind, and the split stretch turns my whole body into one raw, shaking nerve. I cry out and grip Aidan’s chest harder, nails digging in, needing somewhere to put the force of it.
“Fucking hell,” I gasp.
Aidan groans and drives deeper as Cormac pumps in and out in shallow thrusts that are driving me wild. My entire body seizes as an orgasm that nearly rips my atoms apart crashes through me. I can’t even tell where one of them ends, and the other begins.
Aidan’s hand leaves my hip and slides up my stomach to my throat, not choking, just holding me there while he watches my face. Cormac swears behind me, his breath hot at my ear, his grip on my waist turning vicious as my body clenches around both of them.
“Such a good girl, taking their cocks, preparing you for me,” Declan murmurs, and it fires up my lust in a way that is going to get me sent straight to hell and not even care.