Page 5 of Irish Betrayal


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“Lacy?” I suggest. “A pretty blonde with a bob cut? Wears only white lingerie?” Goddamnit, I know I’m feeding her an answer. Still, I want this conversation satisfactorily resolved so I can get to the good part, the part I’m aching to skip ahead to.

“Yeah.” She nods, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know her name, but that describes her.”

I’ve fucked Lacy more than once and made her come screaming my name at least ten times over, so that makes sense. Lacy also knows what I do, having bought MDMA from me, so that adds up too. At least in my brain, which is currently losing blood flow faster than I can handle, it’s good enough.

Good enough for me to move forward, boxing the delicate, gorgeous redhead against the wall, my hands on either side of her head as hers rest at the edge of my jeans, her fingertips just brushing the sliver of skin between my shirt and belt where she’s pushed the fabric up. My palms rest against the cool metal of the wall, the heat between us in stark contrast as I look down at her.

She’s practically panting, her green eyes huge in her heart-shaped face, and I want her so badly I can hardly think. I haven’t felt this much lust for a woman in longer than I can remember, and I’m not about to let the chance to enjoy a fuck like this slip by. I don’t want to just have her up against the wall in a quickie before going back to my poker game—I want to fuck her all night long. I want her mouth, her pussy, maybe even her ass before the night is over—and I want to find out what she tastes like. I want to make her come in every way I can think of, and maybe some I haven’t.

I want to fuck her so thoroughly that I won’t need another woman for a while.

“Let’s go back to mine,” I hear myself saying, against my better judgment.Christ almighty, what is she doing to me?I usually bring girls here, in one of the makeshift bedrooms in the back of the warehouse, or to a hotel. But I don’t want to have to trek back home after I wear myself out inside of her, and I definitely don’t want to fucking sleep here.

I haven’t fallen asleep next to a woman in years, but a part of me wants to break that streak, just to get to fuck her in the morning light.

I’ve never had a problem getting laid, but it’s not every night a girl this beautiful comes begging for my cock.

“Actually—” she hesitates, and I frown.

“Getting cold feet, are you, love?” I bend closer, rocking forward so that she can feel the hard bulge of my erection against her thigh. “I promise, whatever you heard about me, it’s not true.” I grin down at her, lowering my lips to her ear so that they brush against the shell. “I’m better than that.”

A fine shiver runs through her. “I just—I have a hotel room,” she breathes out. “A nice one. I thought—if tonight went the way I wanted—”

I pull back, looking down at her. “You got a hotel room hoping to take me back to it?”

“Well, I can’t very well take you back to my dorm, can I? And I’m not the type to go to a strange apartment with a man I don’t know.”

“Not at all,” I agree. “Just the type to walk into a warehouse in the bad part of London to proposition a man with armed guards and a reputation for being deadly.”

She flushes so red that I can see it even in the dim light, her gaze and hands dropping all at once, and I feel slightly bad for having made fun of her.

“Ah, don’t look like that, love.” I reach down, tilting her chin up so that she’s looking at me again. “I’m just having a bit of a laugh—at your expense, I’ll admit, but I’ll make it up to you.” I wink at her, and her flush only deepens.

Her reaction stirs something in me, arousal and suspicion all at once. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. On principle, I’m against deflowering virgins. They’re clingy, and things get messy, in my experience. The girl I was supposed to marry, once upon a time in a different life, would have been a virgin—and it’s not an experience I consider myself to have missed. I know some men enjoy the thought of being a girl’s first, but I prefer my women to know their way around a cock.

In theory, at least. In reality, for the first time, I feel myself getting even more aroused at the thought that this girl might be a virgin. She might have come here looking for an exciting way to experience her first time; she might have sought me out for it. I hadn’t thought my dick could get any harder, but at the image of her crying out in pleasure for the first time as I teach her how to take my cock, it swells to the point of pain in my now too-tight jeans.

“No!” She tilts her chin up defiantly, and against all odds, I feel a wash of disappointment. “I’m not a virgin,” she insists. “Not that I’ve been with that many men,” she adds. “But I know what I’m doing.”

I believe her. She walked in here like she did, sat in my lap like no one’s business, and told me exactly why she was here and what she wanted in a few well-placed words. She’s dressed for seduction, sure enough, and it’s working.

If I’m being honest, I like the idea that she might have planned this night out with me in mind, intending to bring me back to her hotel and have her way with me.

No one can ever say I can’t appreciate a woman who takes charge.

“Alright, love,” I say with a grin. “Take me back to yours, then. Or rather, tell me where to go. We’ll take my bike.”

Her eyes widen even more on her delicate face, and I smirk at her. “Surely Lacy mentioned the bike?”

I’d taken her out on it a time or two, so she ought to have. But the redheaded girl shakes her head, her full lips parting.

“No,” she whispers, and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. Something about this girl is pure sex and innocence all tied up together in a way that’s turning me on more than I could have imagined, despite how little I usually go in for the innocent types. She’s hardly my usual speed, yet I want her so badly that I can’t wait any longer.

“Well then. Have you ridden before?”

She shakes her head. “No. Thank goodness I wore these boots, then,” she quips, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, and I laugh.

This girl doesn’t seem afraid of anything. Not my guards, or my men, or my reputation—and now not my motorcycle, either.

“We’re going to have some fun tonight, you and I,” I tell her with a smirk, grasping her waist and pulling her away from the wall. “Come on, love. Let me tell Jacob to close up, and we’ll head back to yours.”

“Sounds good to me,” she murmurs, looking up at me with a pleased expression on her face, her eyes bright with the same desire that I can feel thrumming through my own body.

It’s going to be a good fucking night.

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