Chapter 23
AOIFE
He takes me in his arms and holds me against his chest, freeing my wrists as the sun beats down on us. There’s something so debauched about doing something so private in public.
‘I need you,’ I murmur, tipping my face up to meet his eyes. Having his tongue between my legs has awakened a deep, desperate ache for more. I’ve never known pleasure like it. It’s addictive. And I need more.
‘And you’ll have me.’ He presses a kiss to the top of my head. ‘But not here. Not like this.’
‘Not even if I begged you?’ The throbbing between my legs is practically painful. Now I’ve sold my soul to the devil, I want him to take it, claim it and do whatever the hell he likes with it.
‘Oh, Aoife, I’d fucking kill to hear you beg.’ A shiver ripples over my spine because I don’t doubt the truth of his words.
I moan as his fingers slide between my legs again.
I can’t believe I’ve been denying myself so much pleasure.
The man is fucking gifted, and we’ve barely scratched the surface.
My core clenches at the prospect of being his to do whatever he pleases with.
He rolls his thumb over my clit and I moan. ‘Don’t you want to fuck me?’
He chuckles then, long and low, moving his mouth to my ear. His breath sets my nipples straining harder. ‘Believe me, baby, it’s all I’ve thought about since you crashed into my bar and into my life.’ Slowly, gently, he drags his fingers to my ass. ‘I want to fuck you everywhere.’
I can hardly breathe. My eyes widen, and he exhales a low chuckle.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve never done that either.’ He smirks, and that powerful intensity crackles between us again.
I swallow thickly. ‘I’ve never done anything, until you,’ I admit quietly.
His fingers still, as he registers what I’m telling him.
‘You’re a virgin?’
My cheeks flame. I shrug, like we’re discussing the weather, not my total and utter lack of sexual experience. He continues to stare at me in open fascination, like I’m some sort of mythical creature who escaped from some faraway forest.
His ebony eyes flare behind his glasses. ‘Fuck, how is that even possible?’ His pupils blaze with a heat so powerful I’m in danger of melting.
I cock my head. ‘I never met anyone I wanted.’ The word before hangs unspoken like a guillotine waiting to drop.
But I want him.
Of all the men in the world—I want him.
He’s everything I spent my life trying to escape. It’s irrational. Completely and utterly inappropriate. And it shouldn’t happen if I have any hope of building a life away from crime. A life where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder. But tell that to my vagina.
‘Fuck, I had no idea.’ A flicker of guilt pinches his features. He removes his glasses and presses his fingers to the corners of his eyes.
I’ve seen him without them when he’s asleep, but never like this.
His eyes… they’re beautiful. The complete opposite of Rory’s soulless ones. Dom’s are deep with warmth. Genuine warmth. Compassion. Desire.
And for one terrifying second, I swear I see something softer staring back at me. Something that looks suspiciously like love.
No.
It absolutely can’t be.
But I swear he sees me as something worth protecting instead of possessing.
And maybe that’s the most dangerous thing of all.
‘I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have come on so strongly.’ He shoves his glasses back up onto his nose again, depriving me of all the depth there, but I’ve seen it now, and I can’t unsee it. Nor can I stop thinking about if he’d take them off or leave them on if he were to fuck me.
What is wrong with me?
‘I’m glad you did.’ And the truth of that statement hits me like a freight train. I want all of the dark, decadent, depraved fantasies he threw at me earlier. I want to be tied up. Licked and sucked and spanked and teased. And I want him to be the man to do it to me.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He presses his lips to my temple and resumes stroking my clit with his fingers. ‘The things I could teach you.’
His finger dips back down to my slit, and a satisfied smirk curls his lips as he finds fresh proof of my arousal.
‘Teach me.’ I cling onto his chest as he teases my mouth with his tongue, mimicking the movement of his fingers.
‘I will, but on my terms. I refuse to rush this.’ He swallows. ‘The first time should be special. I don’t want you to regret it.’
‘I already know I won’t.’
White hot pleasure builds between my legs, and I sink my fingers tighter into his skin. He pulls back, staring at me in open fascination as he wrecks my body with pleasure. ‘Come for me, Aoife, good girl.’
And I do.
‘Dom,’ I cry as my release rips through me, obliterating the entire world as I know it.
He kisses me again, swallowing my moans, holding me upright until the last wave of pleasure ebbs away, leaving me with the stark realisation: I’m in way out of my depth.
Because while my body burns for him, my brain warns me that if I give myself to him, give him what I’ve never considered giving another, it won’t just be that he takes—it’ll be my heart.
From the second we met, he’s occupied almost every single one of my waking thoughts, and most of my sleeping ones too.
I never craved a man before.
Why the hell do I crave him more than my next breath?
But if I were to get involved in something real with Dominic Kincaid, I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering who might come after him, and subsequently me.
His entire life is shrouded in crime. Uncertainty. Violence.
Everything I worked so hard to escape from will be for nothing.
If I were to get involved.
Ha.
I’m more than involved—I’m invested.
He cleans his fingers with his tongue, then wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him. It feels too fucking good to be held. To be cherished. Safe. Wanted.
‘I will never ever tire of playing with your pussy,’ he murmurs in my ear.
I’ve barely recovered from the first two orgasms, yet that familiar need crackles over my skin again. ‘Are you flirting with me again, Mr Kincaid?’ I shake my head.
‘I’ve never flirted with a woman in my life.’ He smirks. ‘I’ve never had to.’
I throw my head back and laugh. ‘Because they usually take one look at you and their legs tremble?’
‘Oh, baby, if their legs were trembling, it wasn’t with fear. It was because they were cuffed to a St Andrew’s Cross, spread wide and waiting for me to pleasure them.’
Lust lances through me at the erotic picture he painted.
Lust and jealousy again. I’ve read enough spicy romance books to conjure a very vivid image of him orchestrating one of my darkest fantasies.
‘And where is this St Andrew’s cross exactly?
’ It’s barely more than a whisper, but he hears me loud and clear.
Maybe he really does have some sort of dark secret sex dungeon. The thought sets my core clenching.
‘If you play your cards right, I’ll show you.’ He taps his nose.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
He’s even kinkier than I thought.
His fingers trace over the tiny tattoo at the top of my thigh. ‘Nice ink.’ Again, his deep, masculine voice is filled with approval, and I crave it like an addict craves his next hit. ‘When did you get it?’
‘When my father announced I was to be wed.’
He growls. ‘You sure you don’t want him dead?’
‘Out of my life is more than enough, thanks. He’s the only family I have.’
‘Sweetheart, in a matter of weeks you’ll have an entire family who will love you, protect you, lie for you, and die for you. When my mother finally meets you, you’ll wish you were lonely. She’s been surrounded by boys for years. She’s going to be fucking thrilled to have a daughter in the family.’
‘For a year,’ I remind him.
His jaw locks. He doesn’t speak, simply stares out to sea.
‘Can I ask a question?’ I say tentatively.
‘If it’s “will I make you come again”, the answer is hell yes.’ He drags his fingers to my pussy again.
‘Dom.’ I swat it away. ‘I’m being serious.’
‘So am I.’ He nuzzles into my neck.
‘Do you ever think about leaving The Syndicate? Doing something different?’
His head whips up. A low laugh rumbles in the back of his throat. ‘You don’t leave The Syndicate, sweetheart. Unless it’s in a box.’
A cold sensation creeps over my spine despite the summer sun. ‘Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.’
He nods, reaching for my hand, threading his thick fingers through mine. We spend the rest of the day on the beach, making out like horny teenagers.
By the time we get back to the house, it’s almost six o’clock. Dominic dumps the bags in the hallway. ‘Upstairs,’ he growls, sweeping me into his arms like he did the first day, carrying me like a rag doll.
My stomach clenches. ‘Are you going to fuck me now?’
His laughter rumbles into my ear. ‘No. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. Killed men. Tortured them. Dumped their bodies like trash—because that’s what they were. But this? You? I’m determined to do right.’
I should be horrified. My fiancé is a murderer, yet I’m increasingly certain he’s a good man. ‘What does that even mean?’ I wrap my arms around his neck, inhaling his masculine scent.
He kicks open the bedroom door with a thwack.
I jump as a second one follows from downstairs.
His entire body stills, pricking to attention.
Fear floods my blood. Somebody must have spotted us at the beach.
But who?
‘Dominic Kincaid!’ A female voice yells. ‘Get your fucking arse out from wherever you’re hiding. You’ve got some explaining to do.’
He tips his forehead against mine. ‘Mama K.’ He tuts. ‘It was only a matter of time.’
Fuck.