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“I love you,” I whispered in his ear, and he flinched, almost like he wanted to get away from me. But I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and when he slid back inside me, he was deeper than I could even dream. “I love you,” I said on a choked sob because it was unbearably true. “I love you so much.”
He fucked me across the bed, three massive strokes, and then he held on to me so hard it pulled my hair. “Poppy,” he groaned and then another thrust and he roared it, my name bouncing around the dark room as he came inside of me, shaking and whispering nonsense I could not understand. I was limp and loose, though there was an orgasm waiting inside of me, humming between my legs.
He eased out of me and I moaned, still sensitive, still needing him. Between my legs I could feel the slip-slide of his come and I pressed my thighs together, gasping at the sparks that set off. “Are you all right, Poppy?” he whispered, wiping the tears from my cheeks. The sweat from my breasts. “Did I hurt you, a chuisle?”
“No,” I sighed. “You didn’t hurt me, Ronan.”
I stroked his face, lifted my face to kiss him. And then again. The taste of him impossible to get enough of. I could kiss him forever. Hungrier and hungrier for him. “Ah, fuck, lass,” he said. “You need more.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He rolled onto his side and turned me so my back was against him. His arms wrapped around me, and I felt small and cradled and safe against his chest. I pressed my ass against his dick, growing harder against me. I reached for him, the fever in my blood getting hotter and hotter. He chuckled against my neck, his breath against my skin, and I shivered and whimpered. I reached my hand back, hungry for him. So hungry it felt like I was empty.
“You need this, Poppy.” His fingers ran from my stomach to between my legs. He groaned when he touched me.
“I need you,” I whispered. “Please, Ronan. I need—”
He shifted me, arranged me the way he wanted and slid back inside of me. He was hard and I was hot and together we were wet and it all felt electric. We were electric. We were fire. We were something elemental. Like air and earth. This feeling was timeless.
We were endless. He fucked me sweet and slow, his fingers pressed hard against my clit. “More,” I whispered, clutching at his hands, pressing him harder against me.
“No.”
“Ronan,” I snapped.
“Trust me,” he said, and then again, kissing my temple. Sweet. So sweet, it hurt. “Trust me.”
I let go of his hands, relaxed myself against him, let myself be touched and used and stroked. It was slow and long and a pace that made me want to crawl out of my skin and I was sobbing his name, desperate and wild, the orgasm curling and twisting inside of my body. I’d reach for it and it would slip out of my fingers. “Please,” I begged. Again and again.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes. Anything.”
He pulled out of me, and when I growled, he only laughed. “I like you like this,” he said. “It makes me want to keep you in bed and never let you go.”
He rolled me onto my stomach and grabbed one of the pillows that I hadn’t knocked to the floor and shoved it under my hips. He moaned, running his hands up and over my ass, and I knew what was coming. The way he’d been getting me ready for this since the cottage. “You give me so much,” he said. “Every time you surrender. You’re so strong, Poppy.”
He used his fingers to scoop up the come, mine and his, that was dripping from my body. He smeared it against my asshole, slowly working in a finger. I panted and moaned. The pain of it was fleeting, and when it left, it left behind an unbearable ache. A profound emptiness. He worked in another finger and I kept making a high keening sound in my throat as he rolled over me, pressed my legs out wide.
“I don’t want to hurt you, lass.”
“Then don’t stop. Please don’t ever stop.”
Slowly, gently, he pushed himself inside of me, and every time I asked him to stop, he did. And he kissed my cheek and told me how beautiful I was. How perfect. And it took a thousand years and no time at all until he whispered,
“There, Poppy. You’ve taken all of me.”
And still, somehow, I said, “More.”
He growled in his throat, my favorite sound. The sound of him coming untamed. “You’ll be the fucking end of me, Poppy.”
And then he was fucking me. One hand under my body, his fingers against my clit. I was starlight and magic. My body completely unfamiliar to me. Brand new. The way he stroked me and held me, it went on and on until I had to twitch away from him. His cock and his fingers. His warmth and the sound of his voice. All of it too much. My body was raw and he was too much.
