“Seriously?” I say breathlessly, my heart pounding.
He smirks. “Yeah. I told you, I’m going to take my time with you.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re beautiful.” He lets go of me and stands up.
I turn on my side and watch him undress, feeling like I was just cockblocked. “Do you ever not say the right things?”
“I don’t know.” He looks at me, his gaze penetrating and full of something I understand but don’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe it’s because you make me feel all the right things, Blaire.”
As he unbuttons his shirt, I observe his exposed muscles, showcasing a tattoo of a crouching tiger on his left pectoral. He kicks his Converse sneakers off with his socks, his jeans going next. Ronan stands in front of me wearing boxer briefs that mold to his thighs and ass, the perfect V between his hip bones and a raging erection sticking out like a bulls eye. God, he’s breathtaking. When he turns around to close the curtains, I see an Asian-inspired black and gray dragon covering most of his back. I’m not sure what’s more stunning—the artwork or him. It’s probably Ronan who makes the tattoo that beautiful. Every thick groove and muscle on his back moves as he extends his arm. His body is art.
With the only light in the room from the lamp on the night table, he gets in bed behind me. “I need you closer than this,” he says, wrapping me in a tight embrace.
With my back touching the front of his chest, he begins to gently stroke my thighs, the apex between my legs, lightly tracing my mound, my stomach. His touch is reverent, possessive. He pulls down the cups of my bra and lets my breasts spill out into his large hands. He cups them, his fingers lightly grazing my nipples, awakening them to his touch, awakening my body as it hums with the promise of what’s to come. With each stroke, each caress, the man is engraving himself on my skin. He’s learning my body as I learn his touch, and there’s no going back for me.
I want to turn around, but he holds both my wrists in one of his hands, stopping me from moving, while the other begins to caress my ass, palming the soft skin.
“Don’t move.” His hand goes inside my thong, seeking my core from behind. He runs his tongue along the edges of my ear and whispers, “I want you like this. At my mercy.”
He spreads my legs open with his free hand, hooking one behind his hips as one, two, three of his fingers begin to pump into me, stretching my opening. I tremble as I break free from his hold and place my hand on top of his. I follow the movements of his hand as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me, each time a little deeper, feeling how wet they become with my essence.
It’s pleasure.
It’s pain.
It’s euphoria.
He pulls out and rubs my clit, making me feel as though life sprouted from his touch. “This,” he breathes against my neck, “belongs to me now.”
I laugh shakily when he pulls his hand out of my underwear, turning my head in his direction. I watch him raise his fingers to his mouth and suck them clean. Once he drags them out, the tip of his tongue traces the flavor of my body lingering on his lips. He grins, his eyes wolfish. “So fucking sweet.”
“Ronan …”
“Shhh …”
“But—”
He kisses me, and I can taste myself on him. Is there such a thing as a pulsating kiss? A kiss that breathes life into you, a kiss you feel from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, a kiss that awakens your senses and makes them sing? Because this feels like it.
Ronan breaks away and begins trailing kisses from the valley of my chest to my belly button, down between my legs. Opening his mouth, his probing tongue traces the outline of my core through the wet lace. He breathes me in, inhaling my smell deeply into his lungs as though it was the last bout of air he’d take in his life. And then he nudges my panties aside, his fingers spreading me open until I feel the warmth of his tongue caressing my clit, licking me, plunging deep inside of me. I moan as he arouses every sensation in my body with his wicked mouth. Slow, fast, faster, slower, each swipe drives me closer to paradise. I want to die of bliss yet my body hums with life. He curls his fingertips up against my walls, never ceasing his divine assault. “You like this, Blaire? My fingers inside you, fucking you senseless?”
“Please, Ronan …”
“What do you want? Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
I watch him drive his fingers deeper inside me as he flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue. “I want you. I need you. God …” I pant. “Now.”
He stops his torment and slides my thong off my legs. His tongue runs up my inner thighs, the back of my knees, each naked area the fabric touches as it leaves my body. He stands up, removing his briefs, puts a condom on his rock hard erection, and lies back down. Ronan then moves behind me, spooning me, and brings his cock to my entrance. But instead of pushing all the way in, he drags the pulsing head along my wet opening, grazing my clit.
“Mmm … you feel so damn good, Blaire.”
The roots of my hair are soaked in sweat, my body in flames. I begin to grind my hips in circles, seeking his fullness, wanting him to fill me—own me. And he continues to tease me by pushing lightly into me, just to pull out. My eyes are closed. My breathing accelerates with each lustful second that passes between us. I’m so close to begging when he lets go of his hardness, grabs my hips from behind and pushes all the way in. Putting a hand in the middle of my back, he pushes my body forward and starts to pump into me. Our bodies tuned, we become one. At first his thrusts are shallow, his thickness impaling me, filling me, but like a slow train gaining speed, he begins to drive into me harder.
I push my ass toward him. “Deeper, Ronan. I need to feel you deeper inside me … harder.”
He curses, placing his hands around my waist. Restraint gone, our hips slam violently, driving us closer to the edge. The room is filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other. Flesh against flesh. So fucking fierce. So fucking beautiful. His groans. My moans. I begin rubbing my clit furiously as he fucks me from behind like a savage. His cock sinks deep inside me over and over again, the intensity of his plunges erasing all logic. He’s everywhere, saturating my senses. And I give him my all. Skin against skin, we live through our bodies with every kiss, every glance, and every touch until we can’t go on any longer.
“Oh, God …”
“Yeah, baby?” he teases, his voice strained.
I half laugh, half moan. He feels so good moving inside me, like sweet agony and painful pleasure all at once.
I’m so close. So close.
And then there’s nothing but pure ecstasy surrounding me as I come undone. Ronan slams one last time inside me as a cry tears from his chest with the power of his climax. We’re both left trembling and breathless.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more complete than at this moment with his throbbing cock still buried inside me and his hands bruising my skin with their demanding hold.
We bask in the after-sex glow, Ronan’s arms wrapped around me. I trace the outline of the tiger tattooed on his left pectoral. A French quote runs along the back of the animal.
“What does this mean?”
“‘What is essential is invisible to the eye.’ It’s a quote from The Little Prince. It was my mom’s favorite book.”
He smirks. “Yeah. I told you, I’m going to take my time with you.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re beautiful.” He lets go of me and stands up.
I turn on my side and watch him undress, feeling like I was just cockblocked. “Do you ever not say the right things?”
“I don’t know.” He looks at me, his gaze penetrating and full of something I understand but don’t want to acknowledge. “Maybe it’s because you make me feel all the right things, Blaire.”
As he unbuttons his shirt, I observe his exposed muscles, showcasing a tattoo of a crouching tiger on his left pectoral. He kicks his Converse sneakers off with his socks, his jeans going next. Ronan stands in front of me wearing boxer briefs that mold to his thighs and ass, the perfect V between his hip bones and a raging erection sticking out like a bulls eye. God, he’s breathtaking. When he turns around to close the curtains, I see an Asian-inspired black and gray dragon covering most of his back. I’m not sure what’s more stunning—the artwork or him. It’s probably Ronan who makes the tattoo that beautiful. Every thick groove and muscle on his back moves as he extends his arm. His body is art.
With the only light in the room from the lamp on the night table, he gets in bed behind me. “I need you closer than this,” he says, wrapping me in a tight embrace.
With my back touching the front of his chest, he begins to gently stroke my thighs, the apex between my legs, lightly tracing my mound, my stomach. His touch is reverent, possessive. He pulls down the cups of my bra and lets my breasts spill out into his large hands. He cups them, his fingers lightly grazing my nipples, awakening them to his touch, awakening my body as it hums with the promise of what’s to come. With each stroke, each caress, the man is engraving himself on my skin. He’s learning my body as I learn his touch, and there’s no going back for me.
I want to turn around, but he holds both my wrists in one of his hands, stopping me from moving, while the other begins to caress my ass, palming the soft skin.
“Don’t move.” His hand goes inside my thong, seeking my core from behind. He runs his tongue along the edges of my ear and whispers, “I want you like this. At my mercy.”
He spreads my legs open with his free hand, hooking one behind his hips as one, two, three of his fingers begin to pump into me, stretching my opening. I tremble as I break free from his hold and place my hand on top of his. I follow the movements of his hand as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me, each time a little deeper, feeling how wet they become with my essence.
It’s pleasure.
It’s pain.
It’s euphoria.
He pulls out and rubs my clit, making me feel as though life sprouted from his touch. “This,” he breathes against my neck, “belongs to me now.”
I laugh shakily when he pulls his hand out of my underwear, turning my head in his direction. I watch him raise his fingers to his mouth and suck them clean. Once he drags them out, the tip of his tongue traces the flavor of my body lingering on his lips. He grins, his eyes wolfish. “So fucking sweet.”
“Ronan …”
“Shhh …”
“But—”
He kisses me, and I can taste myself on him. Is there such a thing as a pulsating kiss? A kiss that breathes life into you, a kiss you feel from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, a kiss that awakens your senses and makes them sing? Because this feels like it.
Ronan breaks away and begins trailing kisses from the valley of my chest to my belly button, down between my legs. Opening his mouth, his probing tongue traces the outline of my core through the wet lace. He breathes me in, inhaling my smell deeply into his lungs as though it was the last bout of air he’d take in his life. And then he nudges my panties aside, his fingers spreading me open until I feel the warmth of his tongue caressing my clit, licking me, plunging deep inside of me. I moan as he arouses every sensation in my body with his wicked mouth. Slow, fast, faster, slower, each swipe drives me closer to paradise. I want to die of bliss yet my body hums with life. He curls his fingertips up against my walls, never ceasing his divine assault. “You like this, Blaire? My fingers inside you, fucking you senseless?”
“Please, Ronan …”
“What do you want? Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
I watch him drive his fingers deeper inside me as he flicks my clit with the tip of his tongue. “I want you. I need you. God …” I pant. “Now.”
He stops his torment and slides my thong off my legs. His tongue runs up my inner thighs, the back of my knees, each naked area the fabric touches as it leaves my body. He stands up, removing his briefs, puts a condom on his rock hard erection, and lies back down. Ronan then moves behind me, spooning me, and brings his cock to my entrance. But instead of pushing all the way in, he drags the pulsing head along my wet opening, grazing my clit.
“Mmm … you feel so damn good, Blaire.”
The roots of my hair are soaked in sweat, my body in flames. I begin to grind my hips in circles, seeking his fullness, wanting him to fill me—own me. And he continues to tease me by pushing lightly into me, just to pull out. My eyes are closed. My breathing accelerates with each lustful second that passes between us. I’m so close to begging when he lets go of his hardness, grabs my hips from behind and pushes all the way in. Putting a hand in the middle of my back, he pushes my body forward and starts to pump into me. Our bodies tuned, we become one. At first his thrusts are shallow, his thickness impaling me, filling me, but like a slow train gaining speed, he begins to drive into me harder.
I push my ass toward him. “Deeper, Ronan. I need to feel you deeper inside me … harder.”
He curses, placing his hands around my waist. Restraint gone, our hips slam violently, driving us closer to the edge. The room is filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other. Flesh against flesh. So fucking fierce. So fucking beautiful. His groans. My moans. I begin rubbing my clit furiously as he fucks me from behind like a savage. His cock sinks deep inside me over and over again, the intensity of his plunges erasing all logic. He’s everywhere, saturating my senses. And I give him my all. Skin against skin, we live through our bodies with every kiss, every glance, and every touch until we can’t go on any longer.
“Oh, God …”
“Yeah, baby?” he teases, his voice strained.
I half laugh, half moan. He feels so good moving inside me, like sweet agony and painful pleasure all at once.
I’m so close. So close.
And then there’s nothing but pure ecstasy surrounding me as I come undone. Ronan slams one last time inside me as a cry tears from his chest with the power of his climax. We’re both left trembling and breathless.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more complete than at this moment with his throbbing cock still buried inside me and his hands bruising my skin with their demanding hold.
We bask in the after-sex glow, Ronan’s arms wrapped around me. I trace the outline of the tiger tattooed on his left pectoral. A French quote runs along the back of the animal.
“What does this mean?”
“‘What is essential is invisible to the eye.’ It’s a quote from The Little Prince. It was my mom’s favorite book.”
