Page 61 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

With one smooth movement, he rotates us so I’m underneath him. He pulls back from kissing me and stops.

“Tell me you want to,” he demands, his breathing already ragged, his eyes boring into me.

“I want to.” I say.

His lips crash into mine demanding them to open. He teases my entrance until he thrusts in deep, pounding into me again and again, as I moan, every thrust more powerful than the last.

His fingers painfully grip my hair at the scalp locking me in place as he rocks his hips into me, causing my g-spot to throb.

There isn’t a cell of my body that doesn’t want to give itself to him right now.

My willpower had left the country.

I scream into the nook of Liam’s shoulder as I taste his sweat soaked collarbone.

I’m already sore from the width of him. How could something be painful and yet feel so good at the same time?

“This feels better than I’d ever imagined.” he says, biting my lip, increasing his pace.

I can feel my own pleasure build again. “I can do this every day for the rest of my life.” Liam whispers in my ear before kissing me deeply and giving in to his own release. His body shudders and he falls on top of me.

Terror follows my release. I had given him the one thing he could use to destroy me.

Chapter Fifteen

Drizzle tumbles down the windows as the car silently rolls through Dublin.

We pull up in front of my redbrick apartment block. Liam gets out of the car to help me inside with my luggage.

I stand in the doorway, not inviting him in.

“We could change that all now. I could come in and make you come,” he says dragging a finger up my neck and along my lips.

“I’m tired from the trip.”

“What am I going to do on a rainy Sunday on my own?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I say, closing the door.

He pushes his foot into the door and me against the door frame. His lips tear mine apart. His tongue drives inside.

“Next time we see each other?” he asks.

“We’ll see,” I say. “Now I need to get some rest.” He removes his foot from the door and I close it. I lean back against it taking the first breath I feel like I’ve breathed since the trip began.

+++

“I have news on O’Shaughnessy’s mammy,” Ferg says, flipping papers.

“She came into Ireland under a stolen passport as Brenda Mahonney. Her actual name is Violeta Bartas. Winner of the 1988 Miss Lithuania pageant and reported missing by her parents the same month.”

“She was trafficked into Ireland.” I say flatly.

“The evidence points in that direction.”

“Lucky was a sick bastard,” I say.

“In brighter news, the raid is going ahead tonight and you can come. Provided you wear a balaclava.”

---