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“The moon?” she tried pathetically. I smiled. Called it.
“I’m afraid of heights,” I reminded her. She’d learned that one the hard way when I tried to strong-arm my way on a fucking Ferris wheel for her when we were seventeen.
“We need to move,” Genevieve whispered.
“Or,” I yanked away the blanket and dropped between her knees. I smoothed my palms over her naked thighs. Fuck me. Even just touching her so simply had my goddamn cock springing right back to life like we had three fucking years to make up for. “I can just keep reminding you how fucking gorgeous you are and how there’s nothing to be ashamed of about your body.”
“That’s not true,” she said. Knocking her knees apart further, I thrust forward until my dick was buried deep inside her. That breathy little moan she let out was divine temptation, but I didn’t do anything else. She tried to wiggle against me for something more, but I lowered down onto her until she was pinned underneath me. “Please.”
“I’m not moving until you tell me something you love about your body, baby girl,” I told her.
“Ian.”
“Princess.”
“Please?”
“One thing you like about your body, Genevieve,” I repeated.
“I like my eyes,” she told me after a moment. It took her too fucking long to think of an answer so damn basic.
“Why?” I asked. “Elaborate, baby girl. What do you like about your eyes?”
“My color is unique,” she said. Unique was an understatement. Her eyes were liquid gold teaming with pale greens and amber. They were fucking stunning.
“Good girl,” I praised and kissed her, my tongue driving past her lips to find hers. As promised, I gave her the relief she needed, thrusting into her steadily. Her legs rose on my hips, her eyes fluttered shut, and my hand covered her mouth to keep her quiet. But as her muscles began to pulse around my cock, I stopped and pinned her to the bed. She gasped against my hand in protest. “Tell me something else you love about your body, princess.”
“Ian!” she exclaimed with frustration when I moved my palm to hear her words.
“Princess,” I replied. I bit her neck and flexed my hips enough to make her moan. “All you have to do is tell me and I’ll make sure you come.”
“Please…”
“Are you going to tell me it isn’t your pussy clinging to my dick, desperate to come?” She moaned once more as I dragged my tongue up her neck and nipped at her ear. “Tell me and I’ll give you what you want.”
Adding to her tension, I slid a hand between us and sought out her clit. I brushed over her piercing once, enjoying the moan that built in her throat.
“I like my ass,” Genevieve said with a small giggle.
“And why do you like your ass, Genevieve?” I asked, grinning wide. I knew my wife’s smart mouth, which meant I knew when she was about to say something sassy as fuck.
“Because it turns my husband a little bit stupid when he’s staring at it.” That giggle turned into a breathy laugh even as I buried my teeth in her neck.
“I’m going to fuck the sassy right out of that mouth, princess.”
“Please, try.”
I braced myself on one hand and locked my other around her neck, squeezing tight. Her eyes rolled back as she gave in instantly. And then I did exactly what I said I would: I fucked the sassy right out of her.
For twenty minutes anyway.
Chapter 98
Killian
Halloween morning meant meeting my brothers at The Treehouse for our annual costume fuck-around game. There was no other fucking way to put it. We didn’t take this shit seriously. We always tried to one-up each other every fucking year. Usually, we just fucking judged ourselves and had a fucking riot, but not this year. This year, we had Roan in town—thanks to me. In light of me stepping down from my duties in the middle of a fucking pack crisis, Brady sent Roan up to offer insight in my place. Considering how Mom and Brady were constantly supporting each other during their leadership periods, no one batted a fucking eye when an Ironwood showed up to help a Byrne. Our packs were damn near fluid with one another.
Bright and early on Halloween, I walked right into Nolan’s shop dressed as Lucas—although, in my interpretation, Lucas was a fucking firefighter stripper. I wore a pair of turnout pants that I’d shamelessly stolen with the intention of giving them back, bright as fuck suspenders complete with flames, boots, and a shiny fucking sticker that said ask me about my hose because why the fuck not.
