Page 63 of A Game So Reckless

And maybe sometime soon.

For the first time, I let myself truly picture it. I imagine Darragh, hot and full and thrusting inside me. I imagine the cage of his body around mine. I imagine myself pinned to the mattress, the wall, the floor. I imagine him playing with my clit, my nipples, while he slowly loses control inside my pussy.

I could make him go even more crazy than he already is.

The thought is so alarmingly arousing that when Darragh slides his finger fully inside me, I’m already coming. He makes a guttural sound of approval as I constrict upon him so hard it almost hurts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He bites the words off harshly, like every single word cuts him to the bone. “So fucking beautiful when you come.”

He angles his hand, his thumb coming to press against my clit, and I’m mindless with pleasure now. So lost to sensation that I don’t even have the brainpower left to think about what it means that Darragh Gowan just called me beautiful.

I’m still quaking, my blood fizzing like alcohol in my veins, when Darragh pulls his finger from me and stands. I alternate between being limp and my entire body tightening up with exquisite aftershocks of the feeling Darragh just pulled out of me. I breathe hard, my head tilted back on the couch. I watch patterns of leaves formed from shadows rustle, a painting in motion lit by the moon.

Movement, then the pull and click of a belt being undone, has me lifting my head. Darragh’s in my sights. He’s standing between my spread, trembling thighs.

His cock is in his hand.

My breath snags as surely as fabric caught on a hook. My pulse, which had started to slow a moment ago, jumps into jackrabbit quickness.

“Sit up,” Darragh rasps.

“You… You want me to suck it?”

Half of me rebels at that idea. The other half, the half that can’t seem to shake whatever hold he’s got on me, feels a velvety excitement expand.

“Not keen on getting the tip of my dick bitten off, thanks.” He gives himself two quick, hard strokes that make my pussy clench. “Just sit up.”

With some hesitation, I do so, peeling my back from the couch cushions. When my spine is straight, Darragh’s free hand goes to the back of my head. His fingers dive between the strands and grip my scalp, his touch like electricity that lights up my spine.

I’m so close that I could bite him if I wanted to. He starts to grind his fist up and down his shaft, so I can’t see much of that part of him, but I can see flashes of the fat, slick head and the heavy balls beneath.

The tip of his cock looks so smooth. Like satin wrapped over metal-hard flesh. Liquid beads and then seeps from a dark slit, and my insides go hot and twisty at the sight. Without thinking, acting on pure instinct, I reach out to touch him.

My fingers hit his tip, smearing fluid. He’s so hot here. His skin is even smoother than I’d thought it would be.

“Fuck,” Darragh gasps, his fist freezing. And then, the grating command: “Use your nails.”

I swallow, glancing up at him. His face is hidden in shadow, but the heaving of his chest and shoulders with his broken breath tells me how far gone he is. How far he’s fallen into this.

I don’t think he ever wanted this.

I didn’t, either.

So how the hell did we end up here?

Slowly, so slowly, I bend my fingers, doming them over his head until my long nails make contact. His breath hisses, catches,breakswhen I gently dig the tips of my nails in.

It’s only the protection of my own hand that keeps Darragh’s come from shooting me in the face. His hand spasms against the back of my head, and then he’s exploding, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he coats my palm with molten need.

I should be repulsed. I should hate this. Hate him.

But I can’t stop staring at him. Can’t stop marvelling at the heated jump of his flesh beneath my hand as he comes undone. He’s all menace and power and even though he’s standing before me now, in a certain sense I believe that I have brought him to his knees. His whole frame is taut, his hips jerking with muted thrusts. His head hangs forward, his hair falling into his face, but even in the darkness I know that his eyes are on me.

Always on me.

He’s seen more of me than any man ever has.

I wonder if I’ve seen more of him than-

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