Page 157 of Dirty Eoin

She rocks back and forth until the blunt head of my cock slips inside her, and she raises herself up and down over and over again until I’m fully sheathed.

I say and do nothing. I just keep my hands on her hips to let her know that I’m here with her. This isn’t about me, it’s about her.

I can only see her outline in the dark as she rocks back and forth, but for some reason, that seems to make it feel even more intimate.

Her movements quicken, her walls clenching tightly around me every time until I’m struggling to hold back.

She must feel my cock swell as she increases her pace, desperate to find her own release before I give in to mine.

“Eoin.”

I grip her hips and I thrust upward, slow and deep. She grinds against me, desperate to take everything I have and silently begging for more.

I increase my pace as she rides my dick. I wish I could turn on the light. I wish I could see the expression on her face that’s causing her nails to dig unapologetically into my abdomen.

Her movements are erratic, then she finally shatters on my cock, her soft mewls of pleasure the only sound against the blinding silence, sounds that encourage me to spill deep inside her, and with one final thrust, I do just that.

She doesn’t move away.

Instead, she leans forward, then stretches her legs across mine, so her body is laid atop. Placing a soft kiss on my chest, she tucks her head under my chin. Within seconds, she’s asleep once more with my dick still nestled inside her.

Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I soon find my own contented rest.

When I awake in the morning, she’s gone.

CHAPTERFIFTY-ONE

JAINE

Jaine’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York

It’s beenfive days since it happened.

I’ve been working from home as the kids and Duke are still on lockdown at Roisin and Fergal’s place. Given the state I’m in, I’m sure my co-workers are pleased they don’t have to look at my beat-up face on a daily basis.

The bruising is starting to turn yellow, and the swelling has all but gone, so I could hide most of it with make-up if I tried. I can’t say the same for the ugly red scar on my shoulder. The cut made by the sword needed six sutures in the end.

Still, I’m alive.

Meanwhile, Malky is still at large and no doubt searching for his beloved and very dead daughter.

I’m not sure what the O’Connells did with the body, but it’s my thinking that acid was involved. They wouldn’t have risked chucking her in The Hudson as there’s every likelihood her daddy would have employed a set of divers to search the riverbank and scroll through the sea of water-bloated faces.

I haven’t asked Eoin how he felt about the fact that I ended the life of the woman he was set to marry. We’ve exchanged messages, but all of them have been polite and about nothing much in particular.

We also fucked. There was nothing polite about that.

I shouldn’t have gone to his apartment. I know I’ve caused even more confusion by doing so, but I needed someone.

I needed him.

I was selfish, thinking of my own goddamn needs and not his. Taking and never giving anything back in return.

My thoughts are interrupted by my vibrating phone.

“Jaine.”

“Dyl.” I smirk.

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