Page 180 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

I don’t go the direct route back, which is what he’ll expect me to do. Instead, I set off in the opposite direction as the rain pounds against my face. For the first time in months, I feel alive. My heart pounds in my chest as my body ignites.

He’s coming after me. I can feel him.

I run until I have no choice but to lean against a container to catch my breath. My skin prickles. He’s close. I slide into a gap he won’t be able to fit in, just as I see him pass. He’s not running. He’s walking. His long strides quickly eating into the distance between us. He’s still only wearing his training pants. His feet are still bare.

I can feel his rage. I want it directed at me.

I squeeze out of the gap, and the hair on the back of my neck immediately stands on end. He’s behind me. I know he is.

I don’t look. I just run. I’m fast, but I know he’ll be faster. I can see the hog in the distance. So close. Too far.

I’m sure I can feel his breath on my neck. I spin around to face him, raising my foot to kick at the same time. It connects with abs of steeled muscle. He grabs my boot and pushes me onto my back. I hit the ground with a thud.

From my position on the ground, I sweep his legs. It’s his turn to fall to the ground. Scrambling to my feet, I run for the hog again, only to be grabbed around the neck seconds later.

“I. Said. Fuck. You.” I try to elbow him in the gut, but he anticipates the move and uses his other arm to pin my arms to my sides.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” I curse and struggle. I kick and bite. He doesn’t loosen his hold. I’m suddenly aware of the heat of his body radiating against my back. I can smell the sweat from his skin mixing with the rainwater. I want to taste him.

Not want. Need.

More. Than. Anything.

His monster can sense my arousal because he's hard when I press my ass against his groin. My legs almost give way as he spins me around and pushes me back against a container. Pinning my hands above my head with one hand, the other grips my throat.

I watch as he licks the rainwater from his lips, causing my eyes to drop to his mouth. I want it on me.

Licking. Sucking. Biting.

I raise my gaze to meet his. Rage mixed with lust. He wants to fuck me, but he doesn’t.

Which will win?

I lean forward and run my tongue slowly up the strong column of his throat. Salt mixed with testosterone and every other addictive flavor that makes up Eoin O’Connell. I moan in appreciation as I swallow exaggeratedly like I’ve just licked my favorite popsicle. With a growl, he fists my hair and yanks my head back.

My lips part, and his gaze drops, his head cocking in that deranged way of his. Tendrils of darkness infused with spicy cologne wrap around me. I fucking welcome them. His breath is hot against my lips, his mouth so close I can almost taste the addictive flavor of his arrogance.

I can’t move. I don’t want to move. I’m exactly where I want to be.

His lips capture mine, and his tongue sweeps deep, drowning all my senses.

He releases my pinned hands, and I groan as my freed fingers connect with the ripped perfection of his torso. I can’t get enough of the feel of his damp skin under my fingertips or the taste of its saltiness under my tongue.

He rips open the crotch of my combats, securing one of my legs over his arm so I can’t move. With the other hand, he yanks his pants down before fisting his impressive cock. My mouth waters at the sight of him rubbing the pre-cum around the tip before stroking himself. Securing my other leg, he watches as I line up his dick, and then he thrusts deep.

I mewl my pleasure as he fucks me, my nails clawing at his back.

Fast. Furious. Frenzied.

The base of my spine scrapes against the metal surface of the container with every punishing thrust. His tongue licks the rainwater from my neck, and then he bites down hard.

Marking me. Claiming me. Making me his.

That’s what he just doesn’t get. I will always be fucking his.

I hiss my appreciation as my hands move to fist his hair, wanting more, needing more. In return, he bites down harder and fucks me deeper. Rainwater cascades over, and between us, as he pounds into me, each thrust alternating pain and pleasure.

One final push, and he claims his release with a roar, his liquid darkness filling me and pulling me over the edge with him.

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