Page 85 of Mob Saint

“I heard the difference, Tiera. I belong to you just the same way you belong to me. I want to know you claim me as yours. I don’t think either of us has an unhealthy sort of possessiveness, but don’t underestimate how special it makes me feel to know you want me in the same ways I want you.”

I shift to straddle him, so it’s easier to look into his eyes. Our gazes lock, then we’re kissing. I don’t know how we both wind up naked since we don’t stop kissing. Then I’m sliding down his cock while I hold the headrest. We revel in the moment and enjoy just being connected. Then need takes over. The gentleness evaporates, and in its place, carnal desire and need drive us. Seamus controls my movement, and he wants it rough just like I do.

“I’m going to fill you with my cum again today. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think about anything but the feel of me inside you. You’ll think about it when each step reminds you you’re sore from riding me. When you’re sitting and feel empty without me inside you. You will see where my fingers held you because you’re mine to fuck however I want and to mark you because you told me you belong to me.”

“Yes, Daddy. Do you want me to be your little slut?” I don’t know if he’s in the mood for dirty talk.

“You already are. My little whore’s going to take my cock whenever I want. Isn’t that right, cailín?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He fists my hair and pulls my head back as his tongue glides up the side of my neck. He pushes me back so he can suck my tits. He bites my nipple until I have to stifle my scream. Then they throb when he lets go. He holds them together as he goes back and forth, sucking and teasing my nipples.

“Daddy, I’m close.”

“You come when I give you permission. Not yet.”

“I don’t think I can stop.” I want to swallow the words.

He presses down on my hips, and neither of us moves. I whimper, and he presses harder.

“Do as I say, or I will get off, and you won’t. I decide how you get fucked.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m your little slut. You decide.”

“Good girl. Ride me but don’t come.”

We just talked about each of us having the right amount of possessiveness. Anyone hearing us would think I’m submitting, and he’s controlling me for his own desires. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Yes, I am submitting sexually right now, but it’s because I know he likes it as much as I do. He’s mine to pleasure physically and emotionally. I’m the only one who gets this side of him. Only I satisfy his need for control. This is the give and take we’ve talked about. We’re showing it the best way we can. Words are significant, but our actions mean just as much.

We go around and around; me getting close and him stopping. Sometimes we don’t move because he’s the one who’s too close to coming. When the pauses get too close together, he grinds my clit against his pubic bone.

“Come.”

Within seconds, my entire body tenses as I squeeze his cock from deep inside me. He groans as he tenses, too.

“Fuck, Tiera.”

He bites my shoulder as he grinds me twice more before he groans once more, then moves me faster and harder than before.

“Come again.”

He demands it, and I’m happy to obey. I throw my head back and dig my fingers into his shoulders as I hold on. When it finally subsides, I flop forward, my head resting on his shoulder where my nails just bit into him.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Thank you, cailín.”

It’s more than just good sex we’re thankful for. It’s being an “us” that matters the most.

“Hello, Mr. O’Rourke. Thank you for coming here.”

“It’s Kieran, and it’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Furey.”

“It’s Tiernan.”

Kieran and Tiernan. I used to hate having a man’s name once I discovered it was one. It’s not great that my name is going to rhyme with my potential future father-in-law. It makes my parents’ choice stick out even more. It hardly makes it subtle marrying into a family even more Irish than my own when people will expect a man, and they’ll get a—it would not please Seamus to hear how I’d describe myself, so we’ll go with—more than pleasantly plump woman.

I haven’t told Seamus why my parents picked a man’s name. Gareth just wanted to twist the knife by saying my parents picked it because they wished they’d had a son. That’s not entirely the truth.

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