Page 80 of Her Irish Treasures
No, that wasn’t quite right. He wanted me to be a little afraid. He wanted to stomp along the line between out-of-control lust and outright violence. Yet still be absolutely confident in my trust in him.
I let out a fragile whimper. Exactly the kind of sound that would excite him. While I arched my back again, lifting up my ass. Inviting him to do his worst to me.
He shifted up to his knees, keeping his forearm against my shoulders. “Doran’s your safety net, yeah? You say his name, or reach for him in your mind, and I’ll stop. We’ll both hold you and keep you safe.”
“I don’t need Doran Stoneheart to keep me safe.” My voice sounded breathy, my heartbeat still pounding like runaway horses. “Not when I’ve got the Slaughterer at my back.”
* * *
AIDAN
I tried.I honestly tried.
I tried to go slowly. To be gentle and tender and kind. Even when I didn’t have the barest ounce of tenderness in my body.
Gritting my teeth, I fought the urge to bite her shoulder hard enough to leave marks in her flesh. To plunge deep inside her, drawing out a ragged scream. I didn’t want to hurt her.
Lies. Lies I told myself.
I wanted to hurt her.
I wanted her to scream.
And still love me. Still desire me enough to beg me for more.
Keeping an iron fist on my lust, I tested her asshole with my fingers. Opening her up. Seeing how much she could take without telling me to stop.
Fucking hell. Another one of those sexy, ragged little cries came out of her throat and she arched into me. Begging for more.
I squeezed and kneaded her full, plump buttocks. Stroked the swell of her hips. The dip of her waist. Fighting to keep my big head in control. When all I wanted to do was spread her wide—
“Aidan.” The plaintive cry of my name on her lips sent a massive fissure through the towering concrete defenses I’d built to keep her safe. “Aidan, please.”
I reared back on my knees, pushing her thighs wide to make room for me. Filled my palms with her incredible ass, squeezing and pulling her open. Torturing myself with the sight of her puckered hole. Knowing how tight she’d be.
The sounds she made when I plunged my thumb inside to rub around her tight ring. Incoherent babbles and kitten mewls that made my dick throb. So easy. I could come on her ass right now and just watch the way my seed ran down her crack. But it would be so much better to be inside her.
I pushed against her asshole, kneading her cheeks, squeezing hard enough to leave fingerprints in her flesh. Her voice climbed an octave and her hands scrambled against the mattress, fisting in the bedding. Heaving like a freight train, I tried to pause so she could adjust. Even though it felt like all the veins in my skull were about to explode. But she moved. She fucking lifted her ass, inviting me in, and I couldn’t stop.
I shoved deep, fighting through the tightness of her body. All the way. Balls deep. Her cries ringing in my ears. Her body shuddering beneath me. Captive. Pinned. I yanked her up by her hair enough to get my forearm around her throat. Locking her against me.
She struggled and twisted in my grip, her breathing as loud as mine. For a moment, horror strangled me. Regret churned in the pit of my stomach. If I hurt her… Drove her away from us...
One flailing arm managed to reach back over her shoulder. She snagged my head, pulling us tighter together—not trying to escape.
I sank my teeth into the ridge of muscle between her neck and shoulder. A primal bite to mark her as mine. A moment where I could hold her flesh inside me, as she held me. The taste of her skin in my mouth blew through the last remnant of my sanity. A burning fist of lust tore through my spine. Guttural sounds rattled my chest. I plunged deep, shuddering on a climax that seemed to reach inside my abdomen and drag my guts and organs out of my body.
Still spasming, I fell on top of her. Crushing her, I knew, but I couldn’t have moved an inch if Balor himself strode into the room.
Sweat cooled on my skin. My heaving chest steadied. I had the presence of mind to loosen my fingers. To let go of the vicious grip of my jaws on her shoulder. She didn’t move beneath me. Her hair was a tangled mess, still damp from her shower. I swept my hand over her face, trying to see if she was alright. Conscious. Injured. Terrified.
If she hated me now…
My hand trembled, trying to uncover her eyes. I had to see for myself that she wasn’t afraid or hurt. That I hadn’t ruined everything yet again.
Terror didn’t twist her lips. She didn’t glare at me with fury or recrimination. She didn’t even open her eyes beyond a sexy, sleepy blink. Then she turned toward me, curling up against me with a soft little sound that blasted the last bit of concrete and steel encasing my heart.
Relief pulsed through me, making my eyes burn. I pulled her closer, trying not to squeeze her too hard. She needed to be able to breathe, not have her ribs crushed by an insane man who wanted to beg her.
