Page 41 of Legacy Of Ashes
"I'm not marrying Petrov." I stare into his eyes. "I'm not marrying anyone. I belong to you."
His mouth crashes into mine with desperate hunger. This isn't kissing—it's devouring, conquering, years of denied lust exploding between us. I taste salt and need and promises that could destroy us both.
His hands tangle in my hair, destroying my perfect style as he angles my head for deeper access. I respond by biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, making him groan into my mouth.
"Fuck," he breathes against my lips. "You're going to ruin me."
"Good." I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as he lifts me against the mirror. The position presses his hardness exactly where I'm aching for him. "I want to ruin you the way you've ruined me."
He grinds against me through our clothes, the friction making me see stars. "You feel that? You feel how hard you make me?"
"Yes." The word comes out as a whimper. "I need more."
His mouth moves to my throat, teeth scraping sensitive skin. "What do you need, princess? Tell me exactly what you want me to do to this perfect body."
"Everything." I arch against him, desperate for contact. "I want your mouth on my pussy until I come so hard I forget my own name. I want your cock inside me until I can't walk."
"Christ." He pulls back to look at me, pupils blown black with lust. "You're going to kill me with that dirty mouth."
"Not yet." I roll my hips against his erection, making us both gasp. "First you're going to make me come against this mirror while I watch you claim what's yours."
His grip on my thighs turns bruising. "Here? Now?"
"Here. Now. I don't care who might walk in."
The sound he makes is pure animal need. His hand slides up my thigh, pushing my skirt higher. "Please tell me you're not wearing anything under this."
I smile against his mouth. "Find out."
His fingers find bare, slick skin and we both freeze. "Holy fuck, Saoirse."
"I stopped wearing panties around you weeks ago." The confession makes his whole body shudder. "Every meeting, every conversation, every time you looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive—I was naked underneath, dripping wet for you."
"You're going to be the death of me." His fingers trace through my wetness, making me whimper. "Do you know what you do to me? How many times I've had to lock my office door and jerk off after you left?"
"Show me." I bite his earlobe. "Show me what I do to you."
His fingers circle my clit and I cry out, the sound echoing off the mirrors. "You're so fucking wet for me already."
"I'm always wet for you." I should be embarrassed by the admission, but his answering groan makes me feel powerful instead. "Touch me more. Please, Conall, I need?—"
The door explodes open.
"Conall, we need to—" Eamon's voice dies as he takes in our position.
Conall doesn't move, doesn't release me. If anything, his grip tightens possessively, his fingers still buried between my legs.
"Get the fuck out," he says without turning around.
My brother's eyes narrow as he looks between us, taking in my flushed face, my hiked-up skirt, Conall's protective stance. "What the hell is going on?"
"I said get out."
"Like hell. She's my sister."
Conall finally turns, keeping his body shielding me from Eamon's view. "Your sister is mine now."
The possessive declaration makes my pussy clench around his fingers, and I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
