Chapter Sixteen – Sorcha
Her lips met his with a hunger that startled them both.
Sorcha felt Christopher freeze for a heartbeat, then respond with a passion that stole her breath away.
His hands found her waist, pulling her against him as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees go weak.
This was nothing like any first kiss she’d known before. It was fierce, hungry, and all-consuming. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as if he might disappear if she let go.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Sorcha saw the wonder in Christopher’s eyes that surely mirrored her own. His pupils were dilated, turning his eyes nearly black in the candlelight.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
“Me too,” she admitted. This was no time to be coy. No time for games. This was too important. She could feel it with every breath she took.
He groaned and slid his hands higher, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through her sweater. Even that light touch sent electricity racing through her body, pooling low in her belly. Sorcha arched into his touch, craving more.
“Are you sure?” Christopher asked, his eyes searching hers.
In answer, Sorcha reached for the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. The cool air prickled her skin, but she barely noticed, too caught up in the naked hunger that flashed across Christopher’s face.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his hands hovering just above her skin as if he were afraid to touch something so precious.
Sorcha took his hands in hers and placed them firmly on her waist. “Touch me,” she whispered. “Please.”
His palms were warm against her skin as they slid up her ribcage to cup her breasts through her bra. His thumbs traced circles around her nipples, which hardened instantly under his touch. Sorcha couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her lips.
Christopher lowered his head, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat.
He traced a path of kisses down her collarbone, across the swell of her breast, to the edge of her bra.
His hands reached around to unhook the clasp, his movements sure and steady despite the tremor she could feel running through him.
The bra fell away, and Christopher drew back slightly to look at her. The naked admiration in his gaze made Sorcha feel more beautiful than she ever had before.
“You are overdressed,” she said, reaching for the buttons of his flannel shirt.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, clumsy with desire. Christopher helped her, their hands tangling until the shirt hung open, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair. Sorcha slid her hands inside, pushing the fabric off his shoulders, reveling in the solid warmth of him beneath her palms.
His skin was hotter than seemed possible, as if a fire burned just beneath the surface. When she pressed her chest against his, skin to skin at last, the contact pulled a groan from deep in his throat.
Their lips met again, hungrier this time, deeper.
Christopher’s hands roamed her back, her waist, cupping her bottom and pulling her hard against him.
She could feel his arousal pressing against her through their jeans, and the evidence of how much he wanted her sent a fresh wave of heat through her body.
“Bedroom,” she gasped against his mouth.
In one smooth motion, Christopher lifted her into his arms. Sorcha wrapped her legs around his waist, amazed at how easily he carried her weight. He walked them to the bedroom without breaking their kiss, his steps sure despite his obvious distraction.
When they reached the bed, he lay her down with exquisite gentleness. Sorcha watched, breathless, as he straightened and looked down at her. The raw desire in his eyes made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. But totally his.
Christopher’s hands went to the button of her jeans. “May I?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that she felt in her bones.
Sorcha nodded, lifting her hips to help as he slid the denim down her legs. Her underwear followed, leaving her completely exposed to his gaze. Rather than feeling self-conscious, she felt liberated, beautiful, and wanted.
“Your turn,” she said, nodding toward his jeans.
“Not yet,” Christopher replied with a slow smile that sent shivers down her spine. “I want to taste you first.”
He kneeled beside the bed, his large hands encircling her ankles, gently spreading her legs. Sorcha’s breath caught as he pressed his lips to the inside of her calf, then her knee, then higher, working his way up her inner thigh with agonizing slowness.
By the time he reached the apex of her thighs, Sorcha was trembling with need. His breath was warm against her most sensitive flesh, making her squirm in anticipation. When he finally tasted her with one long, slow stroke of his tongue, she cried out, her back arching off the bed.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his words adding to the sensation.
Sorcha’s fingers twisted in the sheets as Christopher continued his expert exploration.
His tongue circled her sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right pressure, while his fingers teased her entrance.
When he finally slid one thick finger inside her, she moaned his name, her hips rising to meet him.
He added a second finger, stretching her deliciously as he curled them to stroke that perfect spot inside her. Combined with the relentless attention of his tongue, it was overwhelming. Sorcha felt herself climbing rapidly toward release, her body tightening like a bowstring about to snap.
“Christopher,” she gasped, one hand releasing the sheets to tangle in his hair. “Oh…”
“Let go,” he urged, his fingers moving faster, his tongue more insistent. “I want to feel you come.”
His words pushed her over the edge. Pleasure crashed through her in waves, her inner walls pulsing around his fingers as she cried out. Christopher didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she tugged at his hair, oversensitive and breathless.
He rose to his feet, looking down at her with an expression of masculine satisfaction that made her heart skip. His hands went to his belt, and Sorcha watched, still panting, as he stripped off his remaining clothes.
When he stood naked before her, she couldn’t help the soft “oh” that escaped her lips. He was magnificent. Broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, strong thighs, and his arousal… Larger than she’d expected, but perfect. Like the rest of him.
Christopher moved to join her on the bed, covering her body with his. The weight of him, the heat, the feel of skin against skin everywhere…it was intoxicating.
Sorcha slid her hand between their bodies to wrap around his length. He was silky smooth and rock hard in her palm, a contradiction that fascinated her. As she stroked him, Christopher bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes squeezing shut.
“If you keep that up,” he warned, his voice strained, “this will be over too soon.”
Sorcha smiled, feeling powerful and feminine, and wanted. “We can’t have that,” she whispered, guiding him to her entrance. “I need you inside me.”
Christopher’s eyes locked with hers as he began to push inside, slowly, giving her body time to adjust to his size. Sorcha’s eyes fluttered closed at the exquisite sensation of being filled by him, stretched to the point of discomfort that quickly melted into pleasure.
When he was fully seated within her, they both paused, breathing heavily, adjusting to the overwhelming intimacy of their connection. Sorcha had never felt so complete, so utterly joined with another person—not just physically, but somehow deeper, as if their very souls were touching.
“Open your eyes,” Christopher murmured. “Look at me.”
She did, finding his gaze intense and vulnerable all at once. He began to move then, withdrawing almost completely before pushing back in with a thrust that made her gasp. The rhythm he set was slow and deliberate, each stroke hitting places inside her that made her see stars.
Sorcha wrapped her legs around his waist, changing the angle so that he slid even deeper. Her hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles flex and release with each movement. She traced the curve of his spine, the breadth of his shoulders, memorizing him with her fingertips.
Christopher lowered his head to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth.
The dual sensation—his hardness moving inside her, his tongue and teeth teasing her sensitive peak—sent fresh heat spiraling through her body.
She was climbing toward another orgasm already, amazed at how quickly he could bring her there.
“You feel so good,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shoulders as his pace increased. “So perfect.”
“Made for each other,” Christopher replied, the words seemingly torn from him without thought.
Something about the phrase resonated through Sorcha like a bell being struck. Made for each other. Yes. That was exactly how this felt. As if they had been designed to fit together, to please each other, to belong to one another.
His thrusts grew more urgent, and Sorcha met each one, their bodies finding a perfect rhythm together.
The tension built inside her again, a coiling pressure that demanded release.
Christopher seemed to sense how close she was, slipping a hand between them to circle her sensitive flesh with his thumb.
The combination of his mouth, his touch, and the relentless stroke of him inside her pushed Sorcha over the edge. She cried out his name as pleasure exploded through her, more intense than before, her body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.
Her release triggered his own. Christopher thrust deep one final time, his body going rigid above her as he groaned her name. Sorcha felt him pulsing inside her, the sensation prolonging her own pleasure until they were both trembling with aftershocks.
As the intensity faded, Christopher’s weight settled more fully on her, his face buried in her neck. Sorcha wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, unwilling to let this moment end. Their bodies remained joined, hearts beating against each other as their breathing gradually slowed.
Eventually, Christopher lifted his head to look at her, a question in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher. Whatever he saw in her face seemed to reassure him, because he smiled—a smile so full of tenderness that it made her heart ache.
“Stay,” he whispered.
And in that moment, wrapped in his arms with their bodies still intimately connected, Sorcha knew with absolute certainty that she would.