AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CONNOR
Ialmost don’t hear the sound of the elevator letting us know that we’ve reached our floor.
I’m too wrapped up inher, in the delicious feeling of her soft, wet pussy enveloping my fingers, the throbbing of her clit, the way she clutched me, gasping and moaning as I brought her to climax in the elevator. From the way she cried out, her head falling back against the mirrored wall as she writhed against my hand, I’m inclined to think I just gave her the best orgasm of her entire life—with my fingers.
Darlin’, do you have one hell of a night ahead of you.
My cock lurches at the thought, aching in the strict confines of my jeans as I pull my hand out of her panties. Her face flushes bright red as she comes back to herself, seemingly realizing what we’ve just done as the elevator doors open, and she scrambles to fasten her jeans again.
I’m hardly embarrassed. I’ve done filthier things in more public places. As she looks up at me, as pink-faced as the roses I thought to compare her to earlier, I lock eyes with her as I bring my damp fingers up to my nose, inhaling her scent.
Her eyes go wide as saucers in her pretty heart-shaped face. Wider still when I run my tongue over my fingertips, tasting her.
Fuck.I hadn’t thought I could get any harder, but she tastes fucking sweet. I reach for her, my hand on the small of her back as we step out of the elevator, and I can’t wait to get her into her room, strip those clothes off, and toss her on the bed so I can eat that sweet pussy properly. Or better yet, she could sit on my face—
“I’m just this way,” Saoirse says, gesturing down the hall as she fumbles in her pocket for a room key. She sounds breathless, and I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear as we walk.
“If you thought that was good, love, you have no idea the things I’m going to do to you tonight.”
I canfeelthe shudder of desire that runs through her at that. “I can’t wait,” she says weakly, and I almost think I hear hesitation in her voice—but that wouldn’t make sense. There was not a hint of hesitation in her a moment ago when I had her pinned to the wall with my fingers in her panties.
My hand slides down anyway, palming her ass as I get a good handful of it in the tight jeans, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t go getting cold feet on me now, love,” I tease her, and she looks up at me, a tiny spark of defiance in her bright green eyes.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth as she taps her room key against the door. It’s one of those electronic ones, the light blinking green as she pushes the door open to a warm glow suffusing a hotel room meant for luxury. I can’t see much of the bed, tucked away behind the wall nearest us as it is, but I’ll see it all soon enough. All ofher, too, which is what I’m most interested in. I’d have her against the wall or on the floor, as happily as in a bed. Or maybe bent over the dresser, her hands clutching the mahogany as I pounded into her from behind—
The thought is startling as the door shuts heavily behind me, and I follow her, my throbbing cock pulling me forward like a magnet drawn to her. I’ve known this girl for less than an hour, and I’m already thinking about when I might see her next. Even if the thought is solely focused around what filthy things I might do to her over a number of nights, it’s still out of character for me.
“Do you want a drink?” The girl crosses to the dresser, picking up a crystal highball glass next to a bucket of ice.
Ice.
Every alarm that I ignored back in the warehouse goes off in my head at once, and I reach for the gun at my back, on full alert. I know for a fact she didn’t go off and get ice, and it wouldn’t have lasted in here the length of the time she was gone. I’m not one to regularly frequent expensive hotels, but I know well enough she’d have had to call up at some point to have it delivered. This girl isn’t rich enough to have people at her beck and call without even asking.
Or is she?My hand twitches at my back, my dick wholly to blame for my indecision. With anyone else, I’d have it out already, but if she really is just some rich spoiled girl looking to slum it with me for a night, I’ll fuck up my chances by reacting.Or maybe not,I think wryly.Maybe pulling a gun on her would just get her wetter.
“Easy there, son,” a gruff voice comes from the left corner of the room, where the bed is tucked into the nook of the wall, and I whirl, all thoughts of the girl to my right fleeing in an instant—because I know that voice.
I haven’t heard it in years, but I’d heard it far too often before then to forget it.
Graham O’Sullivan.
I turn slowly towards the sound of it, my hand still twitching near my gun, to see the man himself sitting there. He looks a bit older than I remember him. Though the years have overall been kind, he has the look of a man weighed down by a great many concerns. He stands up as we face one another, and from the expectant look on his face, it’s immediately clear to me why I’m here.
Fuck. I should have fucked the girl in the warehouse and been done with it.I’m not usually one to let my libido get the better of me, and in this one instance, I’d picked the worst possible time to start.
Graham O’Sullivan is the last man on earth I want to see tonight or any night.
“No need for violence,” Graham says, his voice cool and reasonable. “In fact, lad, why don’t you just set your gun aside, there.” He points to the dresser behind me. “You can take it with you when you leave after we’re done having a talk.”
“I think I’ll keep it on me,” I tell him coldly. “After all, it’s not every night that a man gets lured up to a hotel room under false pretenses by—”
I turn to look at the redheaded girl, who has set the glass down and retreated to the wing chair by the window; her seductive act dropped. And then, as I take in her features once again, the delicate face and dark red hair, those sparkling green eyes, it dawns on me who she is.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.I clench my teeth as it dawns on me. “Saoirse O’Sullivan,” I mutter aloud, and she smiles at me without any of the lust from before.
“The very same,” she says coolly, and I feel a flush of anger rise up in me at having been so thoroughly tricked.
I can’t believe I’d fallen for it, that I hadn’t recognized her—but then again, IrememberSaoirse, and this girl isn’t her at all. I remember a girl in her late teens, awkward and coltish, who paid very little attention to me and a great deal more to my younger brother Liam, although it had been assumed we’d marry. That promised union hadn’t brought me any great joy or anticipation back then—Saoirse had been quiet and, dare I say, uptight, with her nose always in a book, dressed in clothes that left basically everything to the imagination. Not that I’d imagined her at all. I’d had all of Boston to work my way through, and I’d put quite the dent in the feminine population there before I’d left for London.
