“Fucking dickhead.”
He chuckled and nuzzled her neck again. Taking her earlobe between his teeth and biting down with just enough pressure to make her feel it.
“Let me have you,” he whispered into her ear.
“No.”
“Let me fuck you then. You can take all your anger out on me by riding my cock. Have you ever had angry sex? I bet you haven’t. Just like everything else I’ve shown you, you’ll love it. I bet you’ve never felt anything like what’s running through your blood right now. Are you wet? If I pushed my hand into your jeans and touched your pussy, would you be slick?”
She squirmed against him, which he knew was a yes.
“Sinead, please.”
He kissed her then and she allowed it. Opened her mouth and accepted his tongue. Then he let her hands go and they were wrapped around his head and he was taking them to the floor because the large leather couch seemed like an infinity away.
He rolled them so she was on top.
“Hit me if you have to, love, but please ride me just as hard.”
And she did. Made a fist and slammed it into his jaw. So hard he saw stars and quickly realized he would have to stop her next attack, because she was strong. Except she wasn’t hitting him anymore. Instead she was unbuttoning her jeans, pushing them and her panties over her hips, kicking off the red heels and flinging them aside. Then she reached for his pants.
In seconds she had the material down around his thighs and his cock in her hand and he thought, this could be it. This could be the pain she intended to inflict. It might even be deserved. She could cripple him, but instead she shuffled her body and went down on him.
“Suck the head… I remember that command,” she told him.
Then she sucked the head into her mouth and he pushed his head against the hardwood floor, wishing he’d had the forethought to pull her down on the rug.
“Lick the slit. Is that what you told me?”
“Yes,” he hissed and she did. Her tongue wiggled against him. His precum happening against any control.
“What next, Fucking Dickhead?”
“Declan,” he told her. “Take me deep, love.”
She reared up and slapped his face. “Don’t call me love.”
He sat up and grabbed her hands so she couldn’t take another swing at him. Then he kissed her again and bit her bottom lip hard enough it would swell.
“Yes, love. Now swallow my cock please,” he said even as he was pushing her head back down his body.
She was ravenous. Her lips and tongue doing wicked things. Teasing him, only to then satisfy him by taking his cock deep until it felt like she had in fact swallowed him.
“Now ride me,” he barked because he knew he couldn’t hold out and he knew it was what she needed.
Taking all her rage and all her fury and releasing it on his body in a way that was going to make her explode with pleasure.
She released him from her mouth, crawled over him and took his cock in her hand and put him where he needed to be. She sank down on him and he thought how fucking amazing it was without a condom. It made him feel primal. She was wet and hot and he was going to pump his come so deep inside her he hoped he gave her triplets.
She was bouncing on him and screaming at the same time, her hands behind her back on his thighs, her nails digging in, and he was there with her in every sense. He never thought he would have this again with her. He told himself she was better off without him in her world.
All of it lies.
“Say my name,” he told her. “God, I want to hear my name on your lips.” Every time she called him David, every time she whimpered David, it cut a little. Because she was meant to be his, and he wanted her to call him by his real damn name.
“Declan!”
Yes. The rush of it was palpable, made more powerful by the feel of her coming around his cock, squeezing him in a way that made him feel like he belonged to her. Then he was holding her hips in his hands, thrusting up into her like he could lose himself inside her. He came, and with each delicious spurt of come he thought of his children. Their children.
She collapsed on his chest, and he worked to pull the blouse she was still wearing over her head. Then he was taking off her bra.
“Lift up, love.”
“Stop calling me that,” she snarled.
“Yes, love. Now lift up. I want you naked on top of me.”
“We’re in your damn living room.”
“Technically it’s a game room and it’s Mary’s, but trust me, she knew how this was going to end and has no doubt removed herself from hearing range.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” she told him.
“It changes everything, love.”
She lifted herself up and glared at him. Then shook her head like she was disgusted with herself and pulled away from him, disengaging their bodies. He wondered how long it was going to take for her to realize…