Page 42 of My Irish Mafia King

"I think I can manage using my fingers..."

Her eyes grow wide, and lust-filled. The look is enough to make me ache. I rush forward again. The gasping, moaning noise that comes from her perfect lips before we kiss makes me even wilder. It's a noise that says she's been waiting for me to kiss her ever since the last one, like she's as hungry for it as I am.

We sink close together, my hand gliding up her leg, finding her sex and massaging it possessively. She moves her hand to my groin again, rubbing my thickness through my shorts.

"Killian." She moans. "How do you keep doing that?"

"It's you," I groan. "You're more addictive than sugar."

"Get the butter," she says in a commanding tone. "And no more funny business."

"There's nothing funny about how badly I need you,a stór."

I get the butter from the fridge as she measures the flour. She then tips the flour into a bowl and places it down, takes the butter, measures it, then hands it to me.

"Okay, now, I want you togentlyuse your fingertips to rub the butter into the flour. Don't knead it. It's not bread... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" I ask.

"Like you've never seen somebody baking before."

"It's your passion," I tell her. "I love watching you work."

"I think I'm going to love watchingyouwork even more."

I chuckle, turning to the bowl. "Touché."

I put my hands into the bowl, working my fingertips into the butter and the flour. She stands close to me, peering down, inspecting my work. I can't resist the urge, though... which is a theme with us.

She gasps when I dab a ball of butter and flour onto her nose.

"Did you just assault your teacher?" she says, laughing.

"Maybe I did. What're you going to do about it?"

She dips her hand into the bowl. "Don't start something you can't finish."

She flings a ball of butter at me. It lands on my shirt. I laugh and rush toward her, sweeping her into my arms. "Why do I feel like this dish will never be done?"

"Because you can't control yourself, maybe?"

"Or it's because there's no point baking a dish when I've already got what I want..."

Another kiss, this time with more purpose, more intensity. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me, gasping when I carry her into the living room. I lay her on the couch, never letting our lips separate, my pole pushing insistently against my shorts.

"Killian," she moans, sliding her hand down my body, rubbing the outside of my shorts. "I want you. But I'm scared. This is so new to me."

"I'll be gentle," I tell her.

"You sound like you want to freaking devour me," she murmurs.

I kiss her neck, moving down her body. "I'll kiss and lick your horny virgin pussy. Lucy, you'll be so wet that you won't even have time to think about being nervous."

Her moans become more insistent as I move down her body. I grab her waistband, ready to pull down her pants, ready to see the wetness glimmering across her pussy.

It's almost a good thing the gunfire starts when it does. If it started after I got her pants all the way down, after I brought my mouth to her soaked lips and tasted her, I might not have been able to stop even then.

I leap to my feet when I hear thebang-bang-bangcoming from outside.

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