Page 79 of Stolen Rival
I spear her again, using my thumb to tease her clit, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. Her gasps and pants and moans are music to my fucking ears.
“Close. Don’t stop.” She grips my wrist again, telling me what she wants, and I give it to her. “God, oh God.”
Her muscles ripple along my fingers as she climaxes. Her clit pulses under my thumb, and I keep up the pressure until the pulses stop. Careful not to hurt her, I gently withdraw my fingers. My cock has broken free of my tracksuit bottoms, the tip shining with pre cum, the crown purple where the skin is stretched tight.
Shoving my trackies down to my knees, I hook hercalves over my hips then run the head of my cock through her soaking pussy.
“Is this okay?”
Another of those adorable huffs spills out of her, and I swear there’s a tiny growling sound. Fuck. This woman owns me.
“If you don’t put your cock into me right this second, I’m filing for divorce.”
A chuckle vibrates through my chest, but when I drive inside her in one thrust, neither of us are laughing.
Home. She feels like home.
It’s not the easiest angle to fuck someone, but I couldn’t move us somewhere else if I tried. I thrust into her, over and over, my hips chaotic as I chase my release. She clamps both hands onto my arse, and as I shove in, she pushes herself onto me.
It’s bliss. It’s fucking heaven.
“Coming,” I grunt, lowering my forehead to hers as I silently empty my cum inside her. I wait for the spurts to stop, but although I’m satiated, I’m unwilling to pull out of her just yet. We stay there for at least thirty seconds, our breathing slowing in time with one another.
She winces as I pull out, but as she makes a move to jump down, I put a hand on her thigh. “Wait.”
“If you’re looking for round two, I might need a minute.”
I look down at my cock, still half hard but fading fast. “You’re not the only one.”
She laughs, and something warm and unfamiliar shifts in my chest. Is this what intimacy feels like? As it’s not something I’ve ever understood or experienced, I can’t say for sure.
I pull up my tracksuit bottoms and rinse a dishcloth under the hot tap, then return to where she’s swinging her legs, herhair a wild tumble around her shoulders, and looking thoroughly fucked.
“Open your legs.” When she does, I clean her with the cloth, then toss it in the bin. Capturing her around the waist, I lift her down from the worktop and move the straps of her nightgown back into place. She bites on her lip, appearing uncertain of what her next move should be.
I make it for her.
“Come to bed.” I hold out my hand. She looks at it, then at me.
“Whose bed?”
Kissing her temple, I murmur, “Ours.”
Chapter 39
SORCHA
“I’ve decidedyou need to be better prepared for our way of life.” Patrick stands in front of me, blocking any sunshine that was making its way through the canopy of leaves overhead.
No matter where I am in this place, he finds me. Does he check the cameras dotted around the property? Or does he simply have a knack for knowing where I am? Which would I rather it be? Intuition or stalking?
He folds his arms across his broad chest. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and black tracksuit bottoms like some kind of regular human being. What’s next? Graphic tees and cargo shorts?
I almost choke on my own spit as I laugh at the image. I don’t think Patrick would be seen dead in cargo shorts no matter what time of year it is.
“Sorcha?” He crouches in front of me, face pinched with concern. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not used to you being so…” I wave an arm at him. “Casual. I thought that the next thing you’ll do is surprise me by wearing cargo shorts and a brightly colored t-shirt plastered with a jokey meme. And then I laughed and almost choked at the mental image.”
