Page 50 of Destroy Me
Her heartbeat raced, her skin flushing, but she didn’t stop him. All she cared about was getting his mouth on her again, getting that heavenly sensation overtaking her body again. The silky cloth slid down her legs, and then the world tilted as Fionn picked her up and placed her on the bed.
He didn’t join her, though. When the lamp on the bedside table clicked on, she fisted the covers beneath her, fighting not to cover herself. Fionn wanted to see her. She’d give him anything he wanted, no matter how self-conscious it made her. He was her master in this; he wouldn’t lead her astray.
A string of curses lilted across his lips as he stared at her bare body. Praise, that’s what they were. His words caressed her, his gaze sensitizing her body until she thought she’d go insane. “I want to see you too, Fionn,” she whispered. Then more boldly, “Show me.”
He didn’t take his time with his clothes; he jerked his zipper open so fast she was surprised it didn’t break. His pants were on the floor and kicked away seconds later. The tight boxers he wore molded to his body, doing nothing to hide the thick length of his erection from her gaze.
Holy shit. A hard swallow nearly choked her. That body, that penis was about to be hers. She was giving herself to Fionn “Irish” McCullough.
He palmed himself, gripping tight as his eyes roamed her body. When he licked his lips, she had the insane desire to get up on her knees, crawl across the bed to him, and beg for his erection in her mouth.
“This cock is so hard for you, love.”
Holy shit was right.
“Take them off.” Her voice was hoarse, her breathing ragged, but he understood. Hooking the waistband of his boxers, he shoved them down his body. His…cock, he’d called it—she filed that away in her store of Fionn knowledge—bobbed against his lower belly, thick and red, the tip wet. It was her turn to lick her lips.
“Lyse.” Her name was more growl than anything. “Keep looking at my cock like that and this isn’t going to last.”
She wanted it to last forever, but she couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling herself up, she came to her hands and knees and began a slow stalk across the bed. Where this temptress came from, she didn’t know and didn’t care; all she knew was that the heat rising inside her couldn’t wait a second longer.
“Feckin’ hell.” Fionn angled his cock out as if he knew exactly what she wanted. And he did. It took seconds to get close enough, and then she was leaning forward, the male, musky scent of him filling her nose, the salty taste of him settling on her tongue as she licked the broad head.
A rough groan left Fionn’s lips, so she did it again, lingering this time. When he widened his stance, bringing his hips in line with her mouth, she stopped taking her time and sucked him in just as he had her.
Fionn’s shout was barely muffled. He was trying to protect her, she knew, to keep their privacy in a house full of adults who knew exactly what those sounds meant. But oh, she wished he’d let go, that he didn’t have to hold back. She wanted to hear him shout his pleasure, shout her name. As it was, the constant low growl escaping him as she bobbed carefully on his cock made her feel ten feet tall—and wet. So wet.
Fionn’s hands slid into her hair to grip her head, tilting her to a different angle. His cock slid farther along her tongue to her throat. “Lyse…God, that’s it. Right there. Your mouth…” He eased back, pushed in again. The silken skin she sucked seemed so soft, but the weight of him was heavy between her lips, making her jaw ache. She nursed him anyway, wanting to give him pleasure, wanting everything she could get, including his come in her mouth. Controlling him like this, seeing his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tight in what looked like agony—she could climax just like this, just from watching him, touching him, loving him.
Her heart clenched hard.
“You’ve got to stop, love,” he choked as the head pushed against her throat once more. Slowly, holding her still with his fists in her hair, he slid back until his cock fell from her lips. When she whined, he smiled. “Keep that up and this’ll end real soon.”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t look like we’re getting closer to the end.”
“One of us is.” A ragged laugh left him. “C’mere.”
Pulling her up onto her knees, he settled her hands on his chest. “Touch me, Lyse.”
He asked her to touch him so he could have free reign to do the same, she realized a second later when rough hands palmed her breasts. She could barely concentrate on the hills and valleys of masculine muscles in front of her, the sheer power beneath her palms and fingertips, when he was plucking her nipples, pinching, milking. One hand roamed along her scar, down the valley between her breasts, her ribs, up her back and then down. His grip on her ass cheek sent a thrill of excitement through her—the first time a man had touched her there, that anyone had touched her there. She hadn’t realized how sensitive it would be. Or how agonizingly close to the center of her torture it was. She wanted him between her legs, wanted him to lick her like she had him, to touch her, but most of all she wanted the hard length of him pushing inside her, giving her the ultimate pleasure a woman could find.
And if he didn’t do it soon, she really just might scream, audience or no audience.
She shifted, trying to get his hand closer to where she wanted it. “Fionn, please.” They’d just started, hadn’t they? So why did she feel like she couldn’t take much more without going insane?
His hand left her breast to cup her cheek, tilting her up for his mouth to meet hers. “What do you need?”
She couldn’t help a strangled laugh. “Is that even a question?” She dug her fingers into his lean hips, wishing she had the courage to slide around and explore his backside the way he had hers. “You know what I need.” He had to. Because if he didn’t, she was going to do it herself, and her fingers would be a poor substitute for his cock; she knew that from experience.
He put one knee on the mattress and used the weight of his body to push her backward until she collapsed onto the bed. “I’ll tell you what I need,” he said.
She might not live through that, but she didn’t argue, merely scrambled toward the head of the bed, her mouth going dry. “What’s that?”
This time it was Fionn doing the stalking, his eyes dark and intent, his body overwhelming, his cock thick and rock-hard where it dangled between his thighs. “I need to feck you. I need to push inside that body until you glove me tighter than anyone has before; I know you will. I know you’ll feel so good I’ll be breakin’ a sweat tryin’ to hold back, tryin’ to take it slow.” His accent thickened as he crawled over her legs. “I want to suck those pretty tits and feel you clench around me, feel you flood me with your pleasure, feel how slick and hot and tight you’ll get right as you’re about to come on my cock.”
He was above her chest now, his knees planting between hers, forcing them apart. Forcing her to give him access, to show him the most intimate part of herself. To trust him not to hurt her, to take care of her. And she wanted the same, no matter how hard her heart was beating or how tight her stomach suddenly was.
“I need to shove myself deep right as you let go, feel those muscles milk me.” He leaned right over her, his mouth coming to brush hers ever so gently. “And then I need to do it all over again.”
