Page 53 of Dark Ink

“No, we’re not,” she said, stepping forward and knocking over an open tin of paint.

She didn’t glance down, like she wanted me to believe that it was accident. She didn’t seem to notice as it spilled across the canvas, advancing toward me as she did the same. But I knew. I knew and I think this made her furious.

Good.

“‘Together’ is not stalking the other,” she said, her eyes fixed on mine. “Or showing up uninvited at the other’s home. ‘Together’ is not sabotaging the other’s brother like a sociopath. ‘Together’ is not bringing the other up to a rooftop instead of home where she can try to piece something together for class.”

Her footsteps smacked wetly on the canvas as she stomped toward me.

“‘Together’ means that we can just show up at each other’s homes.” I matched her steps until we met in the centre of the canvas. “‘Together’ is not letting leaches like your brother take advantage of you. ‘Together’ is bringing you up to this rooftop so you can piece something together for class.” I leaned in, growling into her face. “Supporting one another is not letting your talent go to waste.”

She flinched. “I have responsibilities, Professor Merrick.”

“Like your homework?”

“Like my homework.”

I lowered my gaze to her mouth, her pink lips parted as she sucked in air. Fuck, all I wanted was to taste them. To trace the edges of her lips with my tongue.

“Then do your fucking homework, Ms Brady.”

I could see the tension in her jaw. The fire in her eyes. The hatred in the tightness of her lower lip, the desire in the indentation as she bit down on it.

I’m not sure who moved first, her or me. But the next moment our lips were crushed together, our arms winding round each other, fingering hair, fisting in clothing. I hissed when she sank her teeth into my lower lip.

“I hate you,” she said as she tore off my shirt over my head.

“Fine line between love and hate.” I grunted as I tugged her top off. Tit for tat. Blow for blow.

She groaned as my hand reached up her skirt, finding her soaked panties. “It’s not love.”

I smiled as I bit along her neck, leaving bruises as I pushed her bra strap off her shoulder. “Sure, it’s not.”

Eithne made a noise of frustration before she shoved my pants down to my ankles.

Our movements were rough and ungraceful. I tripped or perhaps she tripped. We fell to the ground and I rolled our bodies so I took the brunt of the fall. Paint cans clanked as they were tipped over, as we pulled the rest of each other’s clothes off.

Neither of us gave a shite about the paint running across the canvas, under our bodies as my hard cock slid along her wetness.

“What do you call this?” I asked before I took her nipple into my mouth and sucked hard.

She whimpered and moaned, grinding her pussy against me, just enough to drive us both crazy, but not enough. “Temporary insanity.”

I grabbed her roughly by the hair at the base of her neck and forced her to look at me. “Stop denying yourself.”

“I don’t—”

“You deny your talent. You deny what you truly want. Even your own fucking pleasure.”

Her features broke in front of me. But I did not let her go, did not let her get relief.

“Take it. Just fucking take it, Eithne.” Take me.

She glared at me. She hated me for calling her out. But I would not be another person in her life that let her get away with repressing herself. She deserved more.

She lifted her hips off me and her knees slid in the slickness of the paint. She caught herself roughly with her palms against my chest. Then she dropped down onto me, let me sheath her in one go.

It stole the air from my lungs. Then our twin groans echoed across the Dublin rooftops, caught in the wind.

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