Chapter 33
thirty-three
LUCY
Ibreathe him in, savoring the faint trace of sea salt that always lingers on his skin, wondering if it will always be there or if one day it’ll fade. Isla’s tucked in bed, the house is quiet, and we’re curled up on the couch.
“I’m sorry we don’t get much time alone,” Aidan says quietly.
I tilt my head up from his shoulder. “Don’t apologize. I love every second with you, whether we’re alone or not.”
His lips twitch, amusement dancing in his stormy eyes. “Aye, but I wouldn’t mind a bit more time where we don’t have to worry about tiny ears overhearing things they shouldn’t.”
Heat prickles up my neck, memories flashing through my mind of whispered confessions, rough hands, and the way his voice turns molten when he tells me exactly what he wants. And how I never hesitate to give it to him.
I swallow, trying to ignore the way my pulse kicks up. “Well,” I murmur, letting my fingers trace absent patterns against his chest, “when you put it like that, I wouldn’t mind an evening with you, either.”
“Just an evening? I’d need at least a full day to do everything I have in mind.”
Heat coils low in my stomach, and before I can stop myself, I drag a teasing finger up his thigh. “Well, can I get a little preview tonight?”
He huffs a low laugh, but the sound turns into something rougher. “That’s a bit forward, lass.” His voice drops, turning to pure sin. “But fuck yes you can. Head upstairs and get ready for me. I’ll be up soon.”
A sharp pulse of need shoots through me, and I scramble to my feet, nearly tripping in my rush.
My heart is hammering as I climb the stairs, each step sending a new wave of anticipation through me.
My skin hums, tingling with the kind of energy that makes my breath come short, goosebumps rising despite the heat of the house.
I’m still getting used to this version of me that comes alive under his hands. Even now, I can feel him like a phantom touch, setting every nerve ending on fire before he’s even laid a finger on me.
I fumble with the buttons of my shirt. Each piece of clothing that slips from my body only heightens the thrill coursing through me. By the time I perch on the edge of the bed, my skin is flushed, my breath uneven.
Every creak of the floorboards downstairs makes me jump. I picture him taking the stairs two at a time, his jaw set with that delicious determination, driven by the same urgency I’m feeling.
The soft click of the door pulls my breath out of me. Aidan’s there, framed in the hallway light, broad shoulders just catching the glow. His eyes lock on mine.
“Goddamn,” he exhales. “You’re…unreal.”
His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, leaving no inch of bare skin unacknowledged. I’m exposed, yes, but powerful, too. I could ask him for anything right now, and he’d give it to me.
He finally stalks toward me, shedding his clothes along the way. My pulse pounds as, inch by inch, he reveals his broad shoulders, the sculpted lines of his chest, and the strength coiled beneath his skin.
He stops in front of me, his warm, calloused hand cradling my cheek, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and hungry, lock onto mine as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“You like it when I tell you what to do, don’t you?” His voice is a low rumble against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Words, Lucy,” he commands softly. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “I like it.”
His lips curve into a smile against my neck. “Good girl.”
Those two simple words make my entire body flush with heat. He knows exactly what they do to me, how they make me melt.
He lays me back onto the bed, his body following mine until I’m pinned beneath his weight.
“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” he admits, his mouth trailing down my throat. “Couldn’t focus on a damn thing.”
His hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips as he flips me over. My breath catches as I find myself pressed against the mattress, his chest a warm wall against my back. His fingers tangle in my hair, gently tilting my head back.
“I want you like this,” he growls, his voice rough with need.
I gasp as his other hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet and ready for him. “Please,” I whisper.
He releases my hair to grip my hips, positioning me on my hands and knees before him. The mattress dips as he moves behind me. He’s hard against me, pressing into the curve of my backside. My entire body is on fire, desperate for him.
“Aidan,” I whimper, pushing back against him, silently begging.
He chuckles. “So impatient.” His teeth graze my shoulder, just hard enough to make me gasp.
When he finally pushes inside me, I have to bury my face in the pillow to muffle my cry.
He fills me completely, stretching me in the best way. His hand climbs up my spine, then tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to arch my back.
“Look at you,” he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “So perfect for me.”
When he starts to move, it’s with measured control that contradicts the tension coiled in his body. Each thrust is deep and purposeful, drawing soft moans from my lips.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Let me hear those pretty little sounds.”
“Aidan,” I gasp, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. “Harder.”
His grip on my hips tightens. “Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough. “Turn your head and look at me, Lucy.”
I do as he asks, twisting to meet his gaze over my shoulder.
The sight of him nearly undoes me, his face flushed with desire, jaw clenched, eyes burning into mine.
His rhythm intensifies, each thrust more demanding than the last. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by my breathless moans and his deep groans.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he praises, his hand slipping around to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. “Taking me so well.”
When his fingers roll the sensitive peak between them, the sensation travels like lightning straight to my core.
The sudden jolt of pleasure is so intense, so unexpected, that I cry out his name as everything inside me shatters.
My body tenses, trembling as my orgasm crashes through me, leaving me gasping and clutching desperately at the sheets beneath me.
“That’s it,” Aidan growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “So responsive for me.”
He doesn’t slow his pace, driving into me as I quiver around him, prolonging my pleasure until I’m whimpering, overwhelmed by sensation. His rhythm becomes more erratic as he chases his own release.
“Lucy,” he groans, the sound raw and primal.
I push back against him, wanting to feel every inch, wanting to be the reason he loses control.
With a final, powerful thrust, he stills, his body shuddering against mine as he finds his release.
His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin as pleasure ripples through him.
Every pulse of his cock sends aftershocks through my already sensitive body.
His arms tighten around me as his body trembles against mine, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he empties himself completely.
“Fuck,” he groans.
He gently eases us both down onto the mattress. He doesn’t pull away immediately, keeping me pressed against him as our heartbeats gradually slow. His arms wrap around me, one hand splayed possessively across my stomach.
“You okay?” he asks against my hair, his voice soft with concern.
I nod, too blissed out to form words.
He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder, his lips lingering against my skin. I feel him smile, that rare, unguarded curve of his mouth that I’ve come to treasure.
“I missed this,” I whisper, my voice still a little shaky.
I shift slightly, turning in his arms until we’re face to face.
In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the usual storm in his eyes calms to gentle waves.
I trace my fingers along the stubble on his jaw, marveling at how this gruff, guarded man can look at me with such tenderness.
“What?” he asks, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm.
“Nothing,” I say, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Just…happy.”
“I like seeing you like this,” he mumbles against my skin. “All soft and satisfied.”
He presses his lips to my wrist before he trails his lips higher, pressing gentle kisses along the inside of my arm. Each touch sends little sparks through me, reawakening nerves I thought were thoroughly spent.
“I think I could get used to this,” I admit softly. “You coming home to me every night.”
His eyes darken at my words, something possessive flashing in their depths right before he flips me onto my back. I feel him growing hard again, the evidence of his renewed desire pressing insistently against my thigh.
“Already?” I whisper, unable to keep the pleased surprise from my voice.
“Can you blame me?” His voice is a low rumble that I feel more than hear. “Fuck, I need to taste you.”
I arch against him as his lips travel lower, his stubble creating a delicious friction against my sensitive skin. When his mouth closes around my nipple, I gasp, my back bowing off the bed. His tongue swirls around the hardened peak before he sucks harder.
“Aidan,” I gasp, straining against his hold.
He cups both breasts, kneading the soft flesh as he moves to give attention to my other nipple. The contrast between his rough palms and the wet heat of his mouth makes me dizzy with want as I thread my fingers through his hair.
“These gorgeous tits fill my hands perfectly,” he groans. “Made for me.”
A needy whimper escapes my throat at his words. His hand shifts between us, and my breath catches when I realize he’s gripping himself, stroking his length while his mouth continues its sweet torture on my breast. I find myself watching him through heavy-lidded eyes.
“I’ve never watched a man touch himself like that before,” I say, my eyes fixed on his hand wrapped around his rigid length. The words slip out before I can stop them, heat rushing to my cheeks at my own admission.
Aidan moves slowly. “No?”
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “No. It’s… I like watching you.”
He shifts, positioning himself so I have a better view.
“Watch, then,” he says. “Watch how hard you make me.”
My breath catches as his hand begins to move again, stroking from base to tip with unhurried movements. I’m transfixed by the way his muscles tense, the flex of his forearm, the way his jaw clenches when he twists his wrist just so.
He leans down to take my nipple between his lips again.
“You’re going to kill me,” I mumble.
He chuckles against my skin, the vibration sending shivers through me. “Not before I make you come again.”
His pace quickens, his hand pumping with more urgency as he switches to my other breast. I can’t tear my eyes away from the hypnotic rhythm of his hand, the way his jaw works as he sucks me harder, the dark hunger in his eyes when they meet mine.
His mouth never leaves my breast as his hand abandons his own pleasure to give me mine. His fingers slide between my thighs, instantly finding my clit. The dual sensation of his hot mouth laving my nipple while his fingers work in tight, deliberate circles is overwhelming.
“Oh god,” I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand.
He increases the pressure, the rhythm perfect as he alternates between firm strokes and featherlight touches. All while his tongue flicks across my hardened peak in the same maddening pattern.
The pleasure builds rapidly, coiling tighter with each pass of his fingers. My breathing becomes ragged, my entire body tensing as I climb higher.
When he sucks harder and flicks his finger just right, the tension snaps. I shatter completely, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. My body arches off the bed, but he holds me steady, guiding me through each pulsing aftershock.
“Oh, fuck, Lucy—” Aidan’s voice breaks into a guttural groan, dragging my eyes open just in time to see his face contort with pleasure.
He still hasn’t moved his hand back to stroke himself, but he’s coming anyway, his release spilling across my stomach in hot pulses.
His body shudders as he watches his own cum coat my skin.
I can’t look away.
“Jesus…Christ,” he pants, chest heaving as he braces himself above me. “Just watching you makes me fucking lose it.”
His hand finally moves to grasp himself, fingers wrapping around his still-hard length. I watch, mesmerized, as he strokes slowly, drawing out the last pulses of his orgasm. His hand moves in long, deliberate pulls, coaxing a few more spurts across my skin.
Pride surges through me. I did this to him. I made him lose control.
When he’s finally spent, he collapses beside me. His arm drapes possessively across my waist, careful to avoid the mess on my stomach. I turn to look at him, taking in the flush on his cheeks, the slight sheen of sweat on his brow.
“That’s never happened before,” he admits. “You have no fucking idea what you do to me.”
I reach for him, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss that’s slow and deep. He responds immediately, his lips soft against mine.
“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I whisper against his lips, tasting the smile that flickers there.
“Let me clean you up.”
He slips out of bed and comes back with a warm, damp cloth. The way he moves is filled with care as he gently swipes my skin.
When he’s done, he tosses it into the hamper, then tugs me into him, my back pressed to his chest, his legs tangling with mine.
I lie there wrapped up in him, skin clean but nerves still sparking, and wonder what the hell just happened.
Not the sex. I mean, yes, that too…but this.
The way he took care of me after. I think I liked that more than anything else.
Who even am I? Since when does a warm washcloth and a kiss do more damage to my heart than anything that happened before it?
Because, yeah, the rest of it was ruin me hot, but this? Him holding me like I’m his.
That’s the part I’ll never recover from.