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Deep satisfaction consumes me at the thought, and I know I’ll be right behind her. “Come fer me, Mia,” I command.
And she does, crying out as her pussy spasms around my fingers, her ass gripping my cock. I groan with the aching tightness that demands I follow her into oblivion. As she throbs, her body shuddering beneath mine, I find my release.
Burst after burst of cum fills her ass as my hips jerk with the force of my orgasm.
“Bloody hell,” I gasp as we slow together.
Mia releases an airy laugh, her chest pressing against the mattress as her cheek stays resting on the bed. I ease out of her, taking my time to ensure she’s comfortable. Then I climb from the bed and bend to pick up my pants.
Damn, that girl is hot. And adorable as she slides from the bed with a suddenly shy look.
Though I’m sure I would tire of her eventually, like I do with every girl, I haven’t even scratched the surface with Mia. I’m intent on enjoying as much pleasure with her over this holiday as possible—at least until her father arrives.
I shrug into my shirt, buttoning and tucking it in to avoid doing a visible walk of shame from her room. Then I move to Mia’s side once again. She’s already dressed in her robe, hiding her perfect figure beneath the rose-colored silk.
“Well, that was fun,” I state, letting my hands rest on her hips.
But Mia doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Yeah,” she agrees, her tone distracted. She flashes me a quick smile before turning her attention to getting ready.
It might be the first time a girl has reached the point of disinterest before me, and it awakens in me an unfamiliar fire. I’m not done with Mia, and somehow, her disconnect makes me want to prove my worth to her all the more.
Running my finger along her jaw, I gently guide Mia’s chin up so I can cover her lips with a soft, playful kiss. And I get a hint of that same magnetic connection. I feel her resolve start to weaken.
She doesn’t pull away.
When I finally break the kiss, she’s breathless, her blue eyes dilated with fresh excitement.
“Cilian, I need to get ready for cocktail hour. I’m hosting until Daddy can get here.”
The flash of guilt is unmistakable, and I know her hesitation is about the forbidden nature of our attraction. But I just can’t help myself. The sound of my name on her lips is just too sweet.
“I know, I’ll leave ya be,” I assure her. Then I grin wickedly. “If you’ll let me find you again at the end of the night.”
5
MIA
My breath catches in my lungs at Cilian’s playful demand. I’m in trouble now because I already have Zach ready and willing to take responsibility for my child, but Cilian is making all my wildest fantasies come true.
I’ve lost count of how many of my fantasies he’s starred in where he would slip up to my room, unbeknownst to my father or any other guests. I’ve wanted him to want me so desperately that he might seek me out, to think of me when I’m not around.
And now he’s offering me all of it on a platter.
I haven’t told Cilian about the baby because I don’t know how he might react. I generally get the feeling that Cilian does not intend to settle down—ever—and that a baby would only be an anchor hindering his freedom. But that doesn’t stop my overwhelming attraction to him.
And while I know it could land me in a heap of trouble if Zach finds out I slept with Cilian again—after Zach and I already discussed the baby—I can’t resist the Irish playboy. Besides, Zach was part of the foursome. He must not be completely against the idea of open relationships or multiple partners. At least I can hope.
“Okay,” I breathe, scarcely daring to believe I just agreed to sleep with Cilian again, later tonight. But the responding molten excitement that burns in his green gaze wipes away my hesitation.
“Tonight, then,” he murmurs, brushing a chaste kiss across my lips. Then he slinks quietly from my room like a panther who’s spotted his prey.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I try to collect myself. Then I head to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. I’m ready in record time, thanks in part to Cilian’s quick decision about my dress. I head downstairs just as the entry hall grandfather clock chimes the hour.
The guests enter the same vaulted living room as where the welcome party took place, and the room floods with lively chatter and holiday cheer in an instant as the serving staff hand out glass mugs of mulled cider and spiked hot chocolate.
“Mia, darling, you look positively stunning,” Mrs. Duwalling says affectionately as she and her husband approach me with broad smiles.
“Oh, thank you.” I beam, smoothing the front of my dress with one hand. But I can’t help the flush of embarrassment that stains my cheeks as I think about the person who chose it for me.
