Page 110 of King of the Cage

“From the rule-breaker herself, that’s rich,” Bran muttered.

We made it to the bed, and I lowered him carefully. He fell slowly backward and dragged me with him.

“Bran! This is what I was talking about,” I tutted.

He was on his back, and I was straddling him. I panicked, thinking about the pressure on his back.

“Get off your back!”

He stared up at me, his hands on my waist.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

With a burst of strength he twisted, using his hips to throw me, and spun us around. I landed on the bed, and Bran was above me, pinning me down. He nudged his hips against me, rubbing his hard-on right on my pussy. I had a skirt and panties on, and he was wearing soft pants — only a few layers of material between us, but suddenly, they felt like too much.

I raised my hips to meet his thrusts, immediately turned on by the blunt pressure on my clit. Fuck, I’d missed this man and his touch. In the hospital, something had changed between us. I’d been scared. Scared to lose him. He was infuriating, and cocky, and hardly ever seemed to take things seriously, and yet, he had become important to me. It had been a long time since someone had become important to me.

It had been a long time since someone bled for me.

It had been the first time, actually.

“Fuck, I’ll give you wine and roses and whatever you want if I can just be inside you right fucking now,” he said.

He held himself over me, looking down with a hunger that stole my breath. No, not my breath.

My heart.

Instead of answering, I reached between us and tugged the waistband of his pants low enough for his hard cock to pop out, red-tipped and dripping with precum. I wanted it inside me. I wanted to be pinned down by this man’s weight and impaled by his cock. I used my other hand to move my panties aside and guided his tip to my entrance.

Bran let out a halting breath and sank inside.

“Fuck, here’s the real homecoming, selkie,” he murmured, sliding all the way in and then pulling slightly back, only to press back inside. “Your home might be the sea, but this, right here inside you, is mine.”

I cried out as he fucked me, cupping his face since I didn’t want to hurt his back. I hooked my legs around his hips and held him as close to me as I could. It felt like a compulsion, to be joined to him, to be enveloped by him, to receive him.

I had to be crazy, because for the first time since I was seven years old, I wasn’t scared to be possessed by someone else. To be controlled and powerless. I wasn’t afraid.

I felt safe.

The next morning,I slipped out while Bran slept and took a cab to my apartment. I needed to pack some more clothes, grab my mail, and be reunited with my laptop. I couldn’t take one more second with Bran’s ancient laptop; I’d die.

I made myself a triple espresso, since Aoife had made it her personal mission to ensure I never had caffeine within a ten-mile radius of The Selkie’s Rest.

I stirred an ungodly amount of sugar into the coffee and sat at my laptop. My phone rang while I checked on De Sanctis family business. I’d admit I’d been slacking the last week. Bran being in the hospital had completely thrown me off my game.

“Okay, I know I’m so much less interesting than a hot Irishman, but I miss you! When are we hanging out?” Sol.

I’d only spoken to her on the phone a couple of times in the last week.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible. Why don’t you come over to The Selkie’s Rest later and we can hang out?”

“Pass. I can’t show my face again after that hot Irish doctor saw me all messed up.”

“He’s a doctor; he doesn’t judge,” I told her.

“Right, like any doctor could be so young, hot, and dangerous-looking. Everyone knows doctors should be kindly old men with age-spotted hands and wispy hair.”

“I’ll pass that on to Keiran. He loves constructive feedback on his bedside manner.”

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