Page 30 of My Irish Mafia King

I called her my treasure, and it feels like that now as I cradle her, like I'm protecting her from another storm. Now, I must shield her from a deadly barrage of bullets and violence, though I once protected her from mere rain. I have to shelter her from what I can feel barreling down upon us. Trying to follow Mom's advice, I bury those thoughts, focus on Lucy instead, my lucky charm.

"Are you okay?" she murmurs.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I just woke up," she says breathily. "You're..."

I kiss the back of her neck. "Are you getting shy on me?"

"Hard," she says, a moan nestled within her voice, driving me close to the edge.

"It's difficult not to be," I growl. "For a long time, I buried my lust. But recently, I caved."

"Caved?"

"Use your imagination. You know what I mean."

She shifts against me, grinding her ass against my stiff pole. "You touched yourself thinking about me, you mean?"

"Yes," I snarl. "You've unlocked something in me, a fierce desire I can't control. But I'm going to be respectful."

"What were you thinking about?" she asks. "When you did it?"

"You."

"I knowthat, but what, specifically?"

She reaches up for my hand, touches my wrist, gives it a gentle tug. Is she hinting at what I think she is? The end of my dick pulses as precome surges out of me, hot and urgent. I slide my hand over her breasts, her stomach, toward her waistband.

"I thought about you and me, together, naked. I thought about claiming you, possessing you, owning you. I thought about bringing my rock-hard dick to your perfect virgin pussy and gliding inside, your walls spreading for me, your entrance hot, your clit aching..."

Her moan becomes inviting, even if it's laced with nerves, when I slip my hand down her waistband and over her mound. My dick aches, shuddering when I reach her needy nub. She gasps and wriggles against me.

"What... else?" she whimpers.

"I thought about sucking your nipples, rubbing your clit, and making you ache all over. I thought about being the only goddamn man who ever touched you." My voice is wild. I don't even know what I'm saying. "I thought about every morning I walked into the bakery, wanting you, needing you, but knowing I was too fucked up."

She reaches up to clasp onto my face as I massage her clit, rubbing her softly at first, and then harder, faster when her moans pick up speed. I drive my stiffness against her ass, and she pushes back against me, grinding in time with the frantic motions of my hand.

When her entire being trembles, I feel like I'm going to explode too. She gasps and twists against me, like she's trying to find my lips for a kiss, but the angle won't allow for it. I turn her toward me, my hand never leaving her clit, her folds growing slick as her wetness spreads over her perfect pussy.

The kiss is pure passion, pure belonging. I never dreamed a savage like me could experience something like this.

After, she leans away, panting. "Sorry," she murmurs.

I don't need to ask what she means. I hear the nerves, the awkwardness. She's telling me,Sorry, but I can't return the favor.I slide my hand out of her pants, gently kissing her on the cheek.

"Don't apologize to me,a stór," I growl, even as my cock throbs with desire.

She smiles, putting her cheek against my chest. "One day," she murmurs.

But that's where she's wrong... or she should be. This should be the end. If I was a decent man, if I could put her safety before my own selfish need. The more time I spend with her, though, the more impossible that's becoming.

The next morning, I wake early to a call from Owen. I sit on the edge of the bed, letting myself imagine a world where I ignore the call, lie with Lucy in my arms, forget about the crown, or the fact Uncle Frank could rally his troops to set this city ablaze.

"Yeah?" I say, answering.

"We need to meet. Can you come by?"

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