Page 47 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
The room tilts. We stumble toward the bed.
Padraig peels my coat down my arms. Tosses it. Unbuttons my shirt one button at a time, his mouth hovering, breath uneven. He doesn’t rush. He maps me. His fingertips brush the swell of my breast above my bra, across the center of my sternum, against the mole below my collarbone he loves to kiss before we fall asleep every night.
Brown eyes find mine, misty with emotion. His lips part, like he might say something.
I shake my head. “No, let’s talk later. I need you to keep touching me.”
So, he does.
Both hands trail from my shoulders to my hips. No hesitation. Nothing held back. He drops to his knees and presses his mouth over the front of my slacks, inhaling deeply. Then he undoes the button, slides the zipper slow, and shucks them down my legs and I step out of them.
His mouth trails from my ankle up my shin, tongue tracing my inner knee. My thighs shake with anticipation. He groans and rises once again, sweeping me up in his arms. His lips slant over mine and our tongues dance to our favorite song.
I tear at his jacket. Yank it off. Then the hoodie. His shirt. He’s thinner than when I left. Ripped, all sinew and definition from long hours onstage. My palms glide across his taut abs, nails raking lightly down his chest against his nipples and he gasps into my mouth.
We fall back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and memories.
He kisses every inch of me. My throat, my sternum, the slope of my tits. He tugs down the cups of my bra and sucks on my nipples until I moan and I arch.
“I missed these.” He licks the curve of my breast.
“You missed me.”
“Every fucking day.” His fingers hook the waistband of my panties and he pulls them down, lowering himself to kiss the inside of my thigh.
He moves lower and drags his tongue up my center with gusto. “Oh my God…Padraig—”
I barely get the words out when he wraps one arm under my thigh and pulls me closer. His tongue swirls, presses, plunges. I grab fistfuls of the duvet and clamp my thighs around his ears, but he doesn’t stop. One finger slips inside. Then another. I lose track of words. Time. Space. Breaking apart in a rush, shaking and calling his name.
He doesn’t stop until I tug his hair hard enough to make him growl.
Padraig looks up at me from between my legs, his eyes molten. “You’re unreal. Fucking heaven.”
“I want your cock.” I reach for his jeans.
He helps, pulling them down and tossing them across the room. No boxers. No hesitation. Skin, heat, and his shaft heavy in my hand. Thick, hot, hard in a way that makes my mouth water. I stroke him once, twice, and he bites down on his bottom lip as his eyes flutter closed.
I guide him against me.
He pauses.
Then he slides into me slow, thick, and unforgiving. We lock eyes, my calves hooked around his waist, his palms braced beside my head, every inch of him buried inside me.
“Fuck, Stevie.” His breath catches. “You’re so fucking tight.”
My back arches, heat blooms between my legs. “God, babe, don’t stop.”
His hips start to move, slow at first, then rougher, harder, until I can’t think. Can’t speak. I grip his biceps, my nails biting deep. Sweat glistens on his skin as he fucks me with an intensity I can’t get enough of.
“You feel this?” His voice is shredded. “Am I fucking you good, Stevie?”
Every stroke hits exactly where I need it. Deep and deliberate. “Yes. God, yes.”
He shifts, lifting my hips slightly so he can go harder and deeper. It steals the air from my lungs. My head falls back.
I can’t hold still. Can’t keep quiet. “I need you. I need you more than anything.”
“I’m nothing without you.” His mouth moves against mine, wet and bruising. His hips hammer until I break apart. My body locks and vision goes white-hot. Pleasure pulses through every nerve.
