Page 45 of Desecrated Reign

Avoidance is a man’s best friend, but somehow, I doubt I’m hiding my emotions as well as I think I am. “Come on, love. I’ll show you where everything is.”

This was a horrendous idea.

A colossal fuck-up on my behalf.

Somehow, in my effort to keep my hands to my fucking self, I had the misguided sense to allow Saoirse to strip naked mere meters away from me. It’s not a mansion for fuck’s sake. It’s a glorified pool house at best. I can smell my bodywash from here, and it’s driving me insane knowing she’s lathering it across her skin, along all the places I want to drag my tongue.

Jesus Christ. This is how I die. Death by boner.

It took every bar of me to walk out of that bathroom with my dick still firmly tucked into my pants. Alas, here I am… Hard as fucking granite while I’ve spent the past fifteen minutes staring blankly at my oven door, pathetically watching a pizza cook in a piss-poor attempt at keeping myself from barging into the en suite and seating my rock-hard cock between Saoirse’s thighs. How I have restrained myself is beyond me.

After adjusting myself for the millionth time, the oven timer buzzes. Removing the pizza from the oven, I set it on the counter to cool and busy myself by putting the finishing touches on our candle-lit coffee table, before cueing up the newest rom-com on Amazon Prime.

Suddenly, my bedroom door clicks open, and I swivel around and… Never mind death by boner, I’m about to swallow my motherfucking tongue. Standing, leaning against the door-jamb, in nothing but one of my dress shirts is none other than the object of all my thoughts. The cotton material engulfs her, and even from a distance, I can see her nipples brushing against the thin material. My gaze falls lower, scanning the barely buttoned shirt that stops mid-thigh, giving me an ample view of her lean legs—legs I want to sling over my shoulders before I bury my face in her cunt.

Fuck the pizza, I’ll feast on her instead.

No! I convince myself. We are going sit, watch this movie, and keep our cock secured. Date night. I’m giving her a normal date night. People fuck on date nights, though, right? For fuck’s sake. Why is this so hard? No, not you; we know why you’re hard.

Clearing my throat for the second time in as many minutes, I cover my mouth with my hand and bite down on my knuckles. I turn away from her, hoping to wipe the visual of her lean legs peeking from beneath the cotton from my mind, but it’s no use. So instead, I take a seat and peer over my shoulder. “Pizza’s ready.”

Within seconds, she’s taking a seat next to me, and my eyes fall to the damp patches soaking into the white shirt, and they’re taunting me.

“You okay? You seem a little flustered.” Saoirse nestles against my side as she reaches across me for a slice of pizza. The shirt rises and my dick throbs.

Fucking hell, it’s going be a long night.

28

ROHAN

My phone reverberates against the coffee table, a telltale buzz of an incoming call arousing me from my sleep. Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I furrow my brows and try to block out the grating noise, but the persistent zizz, zizz doesn’t let up, starting over again every time it stops. “Ugh… Fuck off.” Shifting slightly, I swipe my hand towards the table, hoping to shut it fucking off, but I fail miserably and knock over Saoirse’s wine glass in the process.

When I finally pry an eye open, the light from the lamp burns my retina, making me squint. Red wine dribbles from the glass onto the table next to me, each drip forming a blood-like stain on the rug beneath the table. Honestly, I don’t care. I’m so fucking comfortable, and even if I could, I don’t want to move.

Peering down at the weight holding me in place, I spy Saoirse’s arm splayed across my chest, her legs curled around mine, engulfing me like she’s a koala bear and I’m her favourite branch. I’m good right where I am, thanks.

My gaze flicks towards the television at the credits rolling from the movie we were supposed to watch. We must have fallen asleep pretty soon after I hit play because the last thing I remember is Saoirse and me talking about normal couple things—from our favourite colours to our favourite public holidays. Most of which I already knew about her, but it was nice to watch her face light up when she told me about all the questionable Halloween outfits she’s worn over the years or how she hates the colour navy because it’s just blue pretending to be black. Everyone knows black is by far the superior colour. Her words, not mine, although I’m inclined to agree.

The buzzing starts again, and as much as I’d love to ignore it, I know I should probably pick up. With a disgruntled groan, I carefully peel myself from beneath Saoirse, hoping not to wake her. She stirs a little but thankfully doesn’t open her eyes. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, I cover her up and watch as she snuggles in against the cushions, pulling one into her chest. Finally, I tear my gaze away, reach for the phone, and remove it from the MagSafe charger. My eyes widen when I see the fifteen missed calls from Lorcan.

Shit! That’s not good.

After stealing one more glance at a sleeping Saoirse, I kiss her forehead lightly, then cross the room and sit at the piano. A quick glance at the clock hanging above the door tells me it’s after midnight, too fucking late for a chat. The knot in my stomach grows, and once seated, I click Lorcan’s name.

Finally, the call connects, and after one ring, his deep lyrical drawl seeps through the line licked with impatience. “Fuckin’ hell, kid. ’Bout time.”

“Sorry, I fell asleep on the couch. Everything okay?” Knowing Lorcan as well as I do, I know he wouldn’t hop my phone out of it for no reason. Whatever’s gone down is big, and I know I’m not going to like it. Not one bit. “Something happen?”

A heavy inhale crackles through the speaker, accompanied by the clunk of pacing footsteps. “Aye. They’re gone, kid. We’ve looked everywhere, and there’s no sign of either of them.”

I must be still dazed from my nap because he’s not making any fucking sense. “What are you talking about? Who’s gone?”

He draws in a frustrated breath that’s barely audible beneath the sound of his thundering. “After I dropped you and Saoirse off”—he pauses—“I drove straight to Kill Castle to check on Gabriel and Oliver.” My blood boils, volcanic rage bursting to the surface. “Where are they, Lorcan?”

“They’re not fuckin’ ’ere. They’re gone.”

“Gone where?” I bark. My stomach churns as I push from the bench. Unable to control the anger crushing down on me, I slam my foot against the side table next to the piano, rattling the vase atop.

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