Page 24 of It Will Always Be You
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I cut him off, using my other hand to run through his hair. Sometimes, soothing touches is all we have to offer, and while they won’t fix everything, they can take the sharp sting away.
“I knew this day was coming, but I still wasn’t prepared,” he confesses, his attention focused on his dad’s prone form.
“I don’t think death is something we can ever be prepared for. But at least he’s not in pain now, and you know he’s proud of you and all you’ve achieved.” He lets out one last, ragged breath before getting to his feet and pulling me into his arms, burying his face in my neck while I run my hand through his hair. We stay like what for what could be minutes or hours until a knock on the door forces us to separate. Donna stands in the doorway with a man behind her. He looks as wrecked as Donna, but underneath all that, I can tell he’s most likely a hardened criminal. Something about the hardness to his features tells the story that his mouth may never speak.
“Sorry, Jonathan, but it’s time.”
“Give us five minutes, Seamus,” Jonathan says, and with little more than a tip of his head, Seamus steers Donna away from the open doorway.
“We should clear out; you don’t want to witness this,” I murmur, stepping back so he can detangle from me and say his goodbyes before he threads his hand with mine and tugs me out of the room. Down the hall, he pushes open the door to what must have been his childhood bedroom, stumbling over to the bed with me in tow. I barely have a chance to take in the school trophies lying about before he’s pulling me down and into his side.
“It’s ironic. He would be so thrilled to know I finally brought a girl into this room.”
“Are you telling me thisisn’twhere you bring all the girls? I’m shocked.” I fake gasp, curling into his side and tilting my head so I can look up at him. His blue eyes link with mine and as silence takes over, heat builds between us. After seeing how fragile life is, how temporary and fleeting, the urge to feel connected to him on a baser level is almost more than I can handle. I want to crawl inside his skin and live there, meld us into one so thoroughly, we can never be separated.
His eyes flicker between mine before trailing down to my mouth. Tilting my neck up, I fuse our mouths together. I pour all my conflicting, desperate emotions into this kiss, trying to tell him without words what this means to me. With a hungry groan, he soon takes control, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and battling for dominance that I willingly hand over. Curling my hands around his neck and playing with the hair at his nape, I cling to him, scared that if I let go, he’ll vanish. I want his kiss more than my next breath. I need his touch more than air. Soon, he rolls us over so he’s looming over me, bracing his arms either side of my head so I’m surrounded by him, his scent, and the heavy weight of him pressing me into the mattress, all while he smoulders at me with a look fit to make me explode. I bite back a whimper as I try to pull him closer. His need is plain as day as he rests his forehead against mine. “Are you sure?”
It's a fair question. So far, I haven’t let us progress past make out sessions, scared of giving myself over to him so completely. But that fear has evaporated in the face of our fragile reality and left a burningneed in his place. “I’ve never been so sure. I want to be yours, Jonathan. In every way. Please, make me yours.”
“I’ll make you mine. I’ll claim you so thoroughly, no one will ever doubt who you belong to, so deep, you’ll never forget what it feels like to have me buried inside your pretty pussy,” he says on a hungry groan, nipping his way down my neck. The thought of him leaving marks for all to see has me fisting his hair and holding him against me, encouraging him to mark me up. God, the thought of wearing his marks on my skin is so hot. As he makes his way lower, I’ve never been so glad I picked out a blouse. Linking eyes with me, he deftly undoes the buttons, revealing my black lace bra to his gaze. With a muttered curse, he kisses my heaving chest above the lace. He leaves hot, open mouthed kisses across my breasts, before enveloping my nipple in his mouth over my bra, causing me to moan and clench his hair even tighter in my fist.
Fuck, I wish there wasn’t a barrier between his mouth and my skin right now.
At my whimpers, he smirks, asking me, “Does my needy girl want more? Hmm?” When all I do is moan, trying to pull him back down, he tsks, saying, “Good girls use their words, and you are such a good girl, aren’t you?” The praise dripping from his words has me melting into a puddle beneath him as heat licks up my spine and lights me on fire.
“I want your mouth on me,” I beg on a whimper.
“My mouth is on you, sweetheart. See?” he croons, dipping his head to lave at my nipple through my bra again.
“I need to feel you, please,” I beg him, getting more desperate by the second. If he doesn’t hurry up and give me what I want, I might just lose it.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls, reaching under me to undo the clasp and letting out a groan as he sees my bare flesh for the first time. His reverent gaze has me feeling like I’m floating. Nothing could ground me now.
“You are perfection, an absolute goddess who deserves to be worshipped daily,” he vows, circling each nipple with his tongue before pulling back to look at me as he shrugs off his own shirt. My mouth nearly drops open as my eyes take in his sculpted muscles for the first time. He truly is a work of art. His skin is flawless except for an intricate tattoo of a skull encased in a four-leaf clover over the right side of his chest. The fact he’s been hiding this sight from me beneath his suits is a sin.
Leaning back down, he claims my mouth in a sensual kiss, working me up to a fever pitch in record time. Digging my nails into his neck, I cling to him as he makes me feel things I’ve never so much as dreamed of feeling before. Heat unfurls in my stomach, need climbing my veins, making me want things I can’t even explain, foreign desires I’ve never let myself feel or explore before. I want to belong to him. I want his claim on me to a soul deep level. I want there to be no mistaking who owns me and who owns him. In a hundred years, when scientists are looking at our bones, I want our DNA to be so melded, it’s a medical mystery.
Pulling back, he looks at me with his heart in his eyes as he confesses, “I need you, Helen. I need this.” And in that moment, it’s clear to me my desires are his as well. His need for human connection, for something grounding after his world has just been shattered, isn’t something words can explain. Nor are there words to convey how much I want to be that person for him. Instead of trying to find the words that don’t exist, I press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before guiding him back down. I reach between us to undo his belt.
Reaching between us, he rucks my skirt up before moving my underwear to the side as he runs his knuckles through my wetness with a heady groan. Climbing off the bed, he rids himself of his trousers and underwear until he’s standing in front of me as naked as the day he was born, with a look so full of fire in his eyes, it’s a wonder the room hasn’t gone up in flames around us. Reaching for me, he pulls me off the bed and holds my eyes as he drops to his knees. Sliding his handsup my calves, he works his way up under my skirt. Following his touch with heated kisses, he pauses as he reaches the edge of my underwear.
“Please don’t stop.” I whisper, reaching down to card my hand through his hair.
“Never,” he vows, leaning in to draw my underwear down with his teeth. At the same time, he reaches behind me to undo the zipper on my skirt. With a wiggle, it pools at my feet, leaving me naked in front of this man who I’m realising has my heart in the palm of his hand. I’ve never felt more powerful than in this moment, having the newly crowned Irish Mob Boss kneel at my feet with a look of adoration on his face.
Nudging my legs wider, he reaches up with one hand to tweak my nipple while he uses the other to spread my pussy before licking a line up my slit. The sensation causes me to throw my head back on a moan and tighten my grip on his hair. With a sinful chuckle against my pussy, he does it again, this time nipping my clit and thrusting his tongue inside me. The noise he lets out could rival a starved animal. Abandoning my nipple in favour of gripping my hip, he pulls me closer and guides me to balance a leg over his shoulder. With a curse, he flicks my clit and slips two fingers inside me. The added sensation is more than I can cope with, and it sends me hurtling over the edge with a sharp cry as I hold his face against my pussy and pleas fall from my lips.
“Oh my God. Jonathan, please don’t stop,” I cry out as my pussy clamps down on his digits. He just keeps working me over with a hungry moan, and another orgasm races in on the heels of the first one, quicker than I can process what’s happening. Only when he makes me come a second time does Jonathan pull pack. The blue of his eyes is nearly completely swallowed by his pupils as he raises to his feet, keeping a firm grip on my ass. Considering my knees are still shaking, it’s lucky that he is.
“You taste divine,” he rumbles, dipping down to kiss me, and the taste of me on him is like an aphrodisiac. Instantly, I’m desperate for more. As he presses himself against me, I twine my tongue with his.Pulling back, the expression on his face should have me nervous as he demands, “Get on the bed. Now.” Instead, I find myself eagerly obeying, craving his praise nearly as much as his touch. And when I’m rewarded with a growly ‘Good girl’, I melt for him as he follows me down onto the mattress.
Crawling between my thighs, he cradles my face between his hands. “I’m going to make you mine now. After this, there is no going back. You belong to me, Helen. Do you understand? I’m never letting you go.”
“I don’t want you to. I’m yours, Jonathan, and you’re mine.” Looking into his eyes, I reach between us to guide him where I need him most. With a growl, he takes over. Fisting his cock as he wedges his thick head at my entrance, he holds my gaze as he presses himself inside me. My breath stutters at the overwhelming fullness as he presses in all the way, until his hips are nestled against mine.
“You’re so fucking tight. You’re absolutely perfect, sweetheart. My pretty girl, you feel so good,” he praises. “Look at you. You’re taking my cock like such a good girl. Every inch of me is buried inside you. How does it feel?”
“Soo…full,” I manage to gasp out over the wave of emotions coursing through me. The few times I’d dared to risk it, sex never felt like this. I never imagined it could. Jonathan continues to mutter praise and curses as he drives both himself and me over the edge, and I know this is something special. Nothing could or ever would compare to this utter feeling of belonging that only he can give me. He vowed to claim me, and claim me he did, both figurately and literally. He tenses before burying himself deep inside me, and the feeling of him coming in me is enough to trigger one last bone-melting orgasm from me.
