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I grab her under the arms and haul her up, my cock falling with a sloppy pop from between her lips. Gripping her head in my hands, I kiss her so fucking roughly her teeth split my lip. But fuck if I care. My goal is clear—sink inside her cunt until she screams my name again and wipes the memory of all other women from my mind.
Spinning her around, I bend her over, and hold her in place with a hand on the middle of her arched back. I can’t help but pump my shaft a few times at the view of her eagerly awaiting my cock, as she braces her hands against the wall.
Her cunt is far too inviting to keep her waiting.
I press between her folds, parting her as I rub over her slit, reveling in the shudder that shakes her body. She pulses around me, and I take it as my cue, wrapping my hand around her hip, fingers digging into her flesh, and push through her tightening walls.
Dear God, how am I going to last when she does this to me?
I slam home with one hard thrust, and she yelps, almost slipping against the wet shower wall.
“I dreamed of this. Your little cunt wrapped around my cock, your steel eyes filled with need… I thought I knew what to expect. Turns out, I’m a clueless bastard and thank the gods I am.”
This is different from what happened in the forest. The hunger is still here, but I’m fucking feasting on her now, sinking into her cunt like it’s Nirvana itself and I’m building my own home inside of it.
“Ronan…” She rolls my name off her tongue like a lustful prayer, threatening to make me come dangerously fast.
Then I wrap one hand around her neck, holding her in place as my thrusts threaten to topple her, and with the other, I reach around her middle, until her clit is beneath the tips of my fingers. The moment I roll them over her swollen bundle, her legs begin to shake, her cunt pulses around me, and her walls milk me thoroughly from the inside out.
“Ro—Ronan… I—I’m coming!” she cries so sweetly as she shatters around me. But it breaks me too. Making me come like never before.
Christ, what have I done?
Her spell is complete.
There will be no one else.
CHAPTER 8
ANNIKA
We emerged from the showermuch later. I didn’t want to leave. It felt like a sanctuary, sheltering us in a bubble of sex and desperation. Such sweet desperation. Keeping our hands off each other to wash ourselves was torture. The shower gel pouring too slow, the mud not washing off fast enough, and I couldn’t wait any longer to get my hands on him and mouth around his cock. After he fucked me so damn well, we still weren’t fully sated, and my hair was taking too long to wash. So he dropped to his knees, stopping my efforts, threw my leg over his shoulder, and ate my pussy like it was the richest feast after being starved. He made me come so intensely, I couldn’t hold myself up and slid against the wet wall until my ass hit the floor. But he saw me there, all shattered and powerless and he pulled me under him, my leg still hooked over his shoulder, and slid inside me until I was deliciously full. Begging for more was futile. He fucked me as the shower rained over us, caging me in with his ridiculous body, muscles flexing above me, sinew making him look like a raging beast, and all I could do was moan and smile.
I couldn’t stop smiling…
I still can’t. And it’s been three days.
Three days of fucking, although one of those times I could have almost described it asmaking love. Three days of his hands constantly on me. Three days wrapped up in a cocoon, prisoners of this seemingly never-ending storm. I would thank the gods for the opportunity, but this was supposed to be one night. Would we have been the same if we weren’t stuck here together? Would the hunger be the same? Would this need to constantly touch each other still be here?
The weather has been merciless, the pouring rain an understatement to what has been bashing against our windows. The sea is a torment, ruthless waves smashing against this small island with such force, there have been a couple of times when Ronan has had to hold me, soothe me when my anxiety got a bit out of hand at the thought of this storm worsening. But waking up because of shattering thunder has been strangely comforting, because even in his sleep, this man wrapped an arm around me and pulled me to him, sheltering me in his comfort.
Our life inside this house is like a strange fairytale. Such a brutal contrast to the harsh tempest fracturing the world outside. We’re trapped in our bubble of decadence, watching it like a movie through our windows.
I’ve only been out of the bedroom two or three times since he arrived. We’ve barely seen Finnigan and Hanna, especially since they’re on the other side of the villa. Which in hindsight is a good thing, because I’ve passed way too close to their side of the house when they were in the middle of some… interesting action… and distance is exactly what we need in those situations.
When I did have a bit of alone time with Hanna, she looked happy in a satisfied, content kind of way. I’ve never seen her like this. Disheveled, beautifully broken. I wonder if I look the same. I feel it.
“Tell me then, was it your dad who inspired you to paint?” Ronan walks into the bedroom with a tray of finger foods for us. I’m starving.
I grab a cherry tomato and a piece of mozzarella, stuffing them in my mouth before I answer. Mmm… Thank God we stocked up the kitchen before this storm hit.
“Yeah.” I give a partial answer with my mouth full.
“I’m not sure you look quite that happy when I make you come.”
I stuff a piece of bread in my mouth too.
“It’s not your fault. Nothing will ever compare to food.”
