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“You’re so soft, Poppy,” he said. “You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched.”
I pressed my breasts together, cradling his cock between them. He pressed his hand down flat against his cock, and I arched. He pressed more, and it was clumsy and hot. His face as he watched his cock on my body was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. He was transfixed, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.
I moaned, wanting more. Wanting him inside of me. And he pressed forward more, one hand braced against the wall.
“Look at you,” he kept saying. Over and over again. His eyes half-lidded, every muscle in his body flexed and then relaxing.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, and then wished I hadn’t. Too much. I couldn’t give this man too much because he would take it all.
He bowed his head, his dark hair hiding his face, and he palmed his cock and worked himself over harder. Faster. “Fuck . . . yes!” He groaned, and then come erupted from his cock, landing hot and damp against my chest and stomach. The corner of my mouth.
Maybe it was the front-row seat—I had no idea—but I’d never felt like this before. So out of control and needy. With trembling fingers, he reached out and stroked the come into my skin. He touched my lip and I licked him off.
“You shouldn’t let me do this to you,” he whispered, rough and ragged.
Oh God, the things I would let this man do to me.
“You’re probably right,” I murmured instead. Again, he smiled at me. “But I don’t want to stop. I want more . . . I want more, right now.”
He licked his lips and pushed back his hair with both hands. Watching me with dark glittering eyes. I felt seen. All the way down to my bones. I could say anything I wanted to this man, any crude and cruel thing that came to mind, and he wouldn’t judge me for it. How freeing it was. I had to put on my best self for every other person in my life. The version of me with the smoothest edges and the brightest smile.
If I growled at Ronan, he growled right back.
“Touch me,” I whispered. “Make me come again.”
“Who made you so greedy?”
“You did.”
His smile was wicked. “I like that too much, princess. I like touching you too much. I like making you scream too much.”
“I like all of that too,” I confessed, ready for the screaming and the touching. My hands ran up and down his thighs and I watched his dick get harder the more I touched him. But then suddenly he was off me, leaving cold behind him.
“What?”
“This isn’t going to happen again, macushla. I didn’t bring you here for this.”
I sat up in the bed as he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “Why did you bring me here.”
“To keep you safe.”
I shrugged. “We can’t have both?”
Even as I asked the question, I saw his answer. He was too well conditioned. The lessons of his youth were embedded in his brain. He could not have both and since he couldn’t . . . he would choose my safety.
Fuck. I felt that dangerous tilt in my chest. The loosening of my guards. The crumbling of my defenses—which, I could be honest, were pretty shit defenses when it came to this man. I’d let him storm me all day long.
“You can watch,” I said and ran my hands down my breasts, over my belly, smearing his come into my skin. “That would be all right, wouldn’t it?”
He was silent. And he didn’t move. So, I put my hand between my legs and closed my eyes.
“I’m pretending it’s you,” I moaned and touched myself the way he touched me. Hard and relentless and without any shame. He stayed in the room. I could feel his eyes on my body, like the fire in the other room. And in the silence after my orgasm, I heard the creak of the door as he left.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ronan
You know what’s too fucking small? A one-bedroom gaff. Particularly when Poppy, who was a different kind of Poppy from the young scared lass in New York, was in the bedroom. I felt her there like a throb in my dick.
I’d made right bags of everything.
I got dressed in front of the fire, finally using the clothes Sinead had left me, which were warm and clean and felt good on my skin after too many days in my own destroyed clothes. I ate some turkey and the last of the bread, and I then started to make my list.
The What the Hell Are We Going to Do Next? list.
Poppy needed a new identity and a new passport to support it.
Pray to God Zilla was at my safe house in London and I could get Poppy there without incident. Poppy would need cash because all the wrong people would have trip wires all over her bank accounts.
