Dangerous:Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)(8)

"Oh!" I dug my nails into him again, too overcome with the sensation of  being filled to the brim to care if I drew blood. This was exactly what I  needed-to be taken, to fuck-to lose my mind to the sweet rush of  endorphins. "God, yes!"

Blaine didn't give me much of a chance to get used to the feel of being  penetrated so deeply. With a grunt he pulled his hips back, only to slam  them against mine again the next second. I cried out as wild pleasure  ripped through my pelvis and wrapped my legs around his hamstrings,  mindlessly clutching on to the source of the ecstasy.

Again he moved, and I moved with him, rolling my hips up to meet his  blows, even as the power of them made a dull ache mix with the pleasure.  It didn't matter-I wanted it hard, and I needed it rough. I bit his  shoulder and scratched his back to make him give me everything he had.

An animalistic snarl ripped from Blaine's throat, and the next second, I  learned exactly what it meant to be truly and thoroughly fucked.

He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. And then he unleashed  every ounce of that barely-contained fury I'd seen in his eyes all day.

Blaine's thick cock pounded into me, forcing my pussy wide all the way  to the depths of my being. The thick rim of his head rubbed the full  length of my tight sheath, pummeling my G-spot over and over and over.  His hips slapped against my arse, beating the brutal rhythm into my  flesh as well as my pussy. He moved like a demon possessed, forcing me  to take every inch with no mercy and no respite.

It was exactly what I needed.

The dull ache in me turned to pain at his roughness, but I relished it all the more. And underneath him, I finally let go.

I screamed until my throat was sore, I thrashed and bucked and cried.  All the fear, all the anger and despair-I released it all while the man  who was now my husband despite both our wishes fucked me like I'd never  even imagined possible.         

     



 

When I finally crested, he came with me.

Pleasure so strong it felt like it would splinter my pelvis ripped  through my abdomen from my pussy and spread into every cell of my body,  leaving me numb and completely unable to move. I was faintly aware of  Blaine's gasp of pleasure and the warm rush of his semen deep inside,  but not even when he kissed my jawline a few times before brushing his  mouth against mine did I manage to wrestle my mind free of its endorphin  high. Everything was calmness and bliss, and for the first time in as  long as I could remember, I was truly at peace.



 *





Chapter 7

Blaine



Ow. Fucking hell, ow!

I groaned in protest of the sharp pain piercing my skull from the inside the moment I cracked open my eyes.

Even the faint light that filtered in through the curtains was too  bright, and I quickly shut them again. Judging by the taste in my mouth,  I'd overdone it on the whiskey. By a lot.

A jumbled mess of images stumbled through my brain, as if to helpfully  remind me of every single glass I'd downed. I frowned when a fuzzy  memory of Liam attempting to stop me from ordering another glass at the  bar surfaced. How very uncharacteristic.

He'd said something about …  my wife needing me.

The shock of realization when the rest of yesterday's horrors came  crashing back to my recollection made me open my eyes wide-a move I  instantly regretted.

"Fuck." I hurriedly squeezed them shut once more, but only after the  light of day had penetrated into what felt like the stem of my suffering  brain.

I had a wife.

Slowly, I became aware of the heavy press of a warm body against mine.

Oh. Right. We fucked, didn't we?

Despite my pain, I couldn't hold back a lazy smile over that particular  part of last night's events. Turned out the little prude was quite the  wildcat after all. If memory served, I was pretty sure I'd be sporting  some scratches today.

Carefully I cracked my eyelids again, bracing for the pain this time. It  took a while, but once my eyes had adjusted, I could see without  wanting to dig out my own brain with a spoon.

She was laying halfway on my shoulder, with one leg and an arm thrown  across my body and her chestnut hair spread around her head like a sheet  of darkened blood. She was also drooling.

Mira. Or Aignéis, or whatever the fuck she was called.

I hadn't noticed an Irish accent on her when I'd seen her the first  time, nor last night, even though it was thick in both her father and  two brothers. I hadn't heard her mother speak, but assumed it was the  same. The Clerys were Irish through and through-yet apart from the pale  skin and auburn hair, my new wife showed no sign of her heritage.

Wife. Fuck.

I'd planned to pretty much ignore the girl unlucky enough to be chosen  for my bride, but seeing her standing there in that damned church  floored me.

If I'd known there was even the smallest chance I'd ever run into her  again, I would never in a million years have gone to a psychologist-no  matter how desperate I was. And I'd been pretty fucking desperate.

I sighed, making Mira's long hair move and tickle against my arm on the  blow out. If anyone ever knew I'd been so weak I'd sought out help from a  bloody shrink, I was done for. There was no room for weakness in this  world, nor anyone who couldn't cope with the dark parts of the job. And  yet I'd cracked. I'd given in to the demons in my head and showed my  soft underbelly-showed it to her.

Which made her more dangerous than any of my family's multitude of enemies.

I stared down at her face. She looked innocent in her sleep. Vulnerable,  even. Completely at odds with the copious amounts of attitude I'd seen  from her so far.

She hated me, probably even more so than I hated her part in this  arrangement, but as she lay by my side, it was hard to remember that she  was a threat.

I probably shouldn't have shagged her, but I'd wanted to from the first  time I laid eyes on her round arse when I first walked into her office.  Still did, if my stiff cock was to be believed. Which it was.

I reached over and let my hand slide down her shoulder to her soft  chemise. It was a flattering violet color, but I was more interested in  the way it hugged her ample cleavage when she lay on her side. I traced a  thumb across one breast and smirked when her nipple perked under my  caress. Seemed her body was as fond of me as mine was of her.

She didn't look like the usual type of girl I fucked. I tended to  gravitate toward tall, slender model types, mainly because they were the  ones who hung around the clubs I went to.

Mira was short and deliciously full-figured, and my cock had ached to be  buried between her generous thighs from first sight. All the sex I'd  had before seemed so plain and dull in comparison, like rice crackers  next to a feast of abundance. And once I was finally inside of her …          

     



 

My cock throbbed eagerly at the memory. Who knew a rough hate-fuck would end up the best sex of my damned life?

I drew a teasing circle around her tight nipple and saw the small bud harden into a full peak.

Should have taken the time to explore her luscious little body some  more, but the desperate need to be inside of her hadn't left time for  such luxuries.

I glanced at Mira's sleeping face. Maybe she'd be up for seconds.  Nothing beat lazy morning sex as a hangover cure, and we could always go  back to hating each other after an orgasm or two. Or three.

I slipped my hand down her side and up underneath her chemise, eager to  feel more of her warm skin. When I brushed across her soft stomach,  something slightly rough and raised on her skin made me pause. It felt  like scar tissue. My fingertips danced across it for a few moments, but  the small burst of curiosity at the unexpected appearance of scars on  her abdomen was quickly smothered by my cock's desperate pulsing.  Demanding fucker.

I pushed further up until my questing hand reached her soft breast. It  felt even better without fabric covering it. I squeezed the plump flesh  gently.

Mira murmured sleepily in response, and I quirked my head to see if she was waking up.

Her eyes were still firmly shut, and her face relaxed. No such luck.

Hmm.

Carefully, I rolled her off my shoulder-wiping her drool off my skin  with a grimace-so I could maneuver better. She grumbled in obvious  protest at the loss of contact, but still didn't wake.

Mira was a heavy sleeper, apparently. At least after half a bottle of whiskey.

I dragged the loose neckline of her cleavage down far enough to let both  breasts spill over the edge of the fabric, and hummed appreciatively at  the sight before latching one to one of the peachy pink little nubs.

Mira mumbled in her sleep again. It sounded more like a moan this time,  and it made an aching spasm travel down the length of my cock. Yeah,  morning sex was so on.

I leaned over so I could rest on one elbow, letting my other hand travel  down her body until it got to the heat between her thighs. I stroked  one finger through her cleft while pulling gently at her nipple, and was  rewarded when she spread her thighs with a sleepy sigh.

Damn, I needed to fuck her again. So much for exploring her body more  carefully-one tit fondle and I was desperate to get inside her wet  little snatch. What the hell kind of heroin did she hide in there?