Page 87 of A Forgotten Promise

“Fuck,” Corm groans, and pulls away from me. With no effort, he flips me around, and I’m on all fours, with my ass propped up.

He rips the wrapper and kneels behind me, nudging my entrance with his cock. I bow my head to deal with the sensation but also to look at what’s happening between my legs.

“Touch yourself,” he demands.

What? “You’re right there. I want your cock.”

A slap echoes through the cavernous room, and my ass turns ablaze. “What the fuck?” I protest, but fuck if my pussy doesn’t contract with pleasure.

“Touch yourself.” Corm grips my hips, probably bruising me. The only consolation is the strain in his voice. He’s barely hanging onto his control.

I reach between my legs and swipe my fingers through my folds. Jesus. Can I be already close to coming? Everything with this man is more.

More infuriating. More intense. More alive.

“Show me your hand.”

Part of me doesn’t want to lose the contact, but it seems if I want him to give me what I really crave, I’d better surrender to his whims.

I remove my hand and snake it around my opposite shoulder so he can see it. Corm leans forward, his body covering mine.

The soft fabric of his jacket slides around my torso as the heat of his body envelops me through his shirt. How is he still fully dressed?

He takes my fingers into his mouth and sucks. Oh, my God. I can’t. I can’t anymore. I push my hips back, desperate for him.

He chuckles. “I told you we won’t need the lube. Look at these fingers…” He kisses each of them. “Covered in your need for me. Such a good girl, Saar.”

Good girl.

I want to retort something at him, just out of principle. But this is such an honest transaction between us, I just accept what his words do to me.

Turns out, I hate his controlling ways outside the bedroom—well, staircase—but I welcome it when his cock is out.

He lets go of my hand, and I collapse to my elbows. Corm pushes just his tip in, and I stop breathing. He is too big. I close my eyes to deal with the burning sensation.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart.” He hovers above me and takes both my breasts into his palms, finding my nipples and rolling them achingly between his fingers. “Relax, Saar; let me in, baby.”

I don’t know why ‘sweetheart’ had no emotional charge for me, but his calling me ‘baby’ spreads through me like a sweet liquor, warming me inside and making my legs weak.

He pushes farther, and I gasp, adjusting to the onslaught of pleasure and pain. The latter subsides quickly as Corm finds my clit with his hand. He massages it, and I melt, letting him fully in.

He fills me to the hilt and stills. “Are you okay?”

I always knew Cormac Quinn would fuck like God, but reconciling this with the fact that he’s a considerate God overwhelms me. Instead of answering, I roll my hips.

He kisses me between my shoulder blades. It’s a tender kiss that surprises me, sprouting goose bumps all over my skin.

But that’s the last gentle gesture from him, because after that kiss he withdraws and rams back into me with such force, I almost fall flat on my face.

“Hold on for the ride, The Morrigan,” he growls.

He pumps in and out like this was an athletic competition. And of course, he is the winner. And thank God for that, because as he repeatedly hits the right spot like he had some secret compass to my body, I’m ready to build a shrine to his prowess and worship at it in my free time.

The echo of our bodies slapping and my moans hit the high ceiling and bounce off the walls. He fucks me like he hates me—probably true—but couldn’t help himself.

I’m on my knees and completely at his mercy, and yet somehow I’m an equal partner in this. Unlike in our real lives.

“I’m coming,” I whimper.

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