Page 17 of Give Me What I Want

“Fuck, Ro-bear,” I moaned, grinding against him, deliberately ignoring his dislike of the nickname.

A squeak of pain left me when Ronan bit me. His teeth sinking into my clit in retaliation. But it didn’t deter me. Instead of shouting, or scolding, I laughed, dropped my hands between my thighs, and wrapped my fingers around his throat.

His tongue plunged and lapped as I choked him. He feasted on me desperately, as though I might actually kill him with my bare hands while riding his face and he needed my release to be his final meal.

I gave him what he wanted. Tightening my grip as I cried out his name and began to shake, my vision turning spotty as I came hard. Intense ripples of pleasure rolling through me and onto his gladly waiting tongue.

With my head still floating up on some freaking orgasmic rainbow my bandmate threw me off of his face, my hands leaving his throat and allowing him to suck in air loudly. I looked down at him from where I had landed on my ass on the soft mattress, expecting him to look murderous, but he didn’t. Ronan looked pleased, like the cat that got the cream. A playful yet dark grin split his beautiful face.

“Next time, choke me harder,” he rasped, “leave proof on my skin of how I make you feel.”

“Hot and angry, I better use my nails too then,” I said with my own grin, then shook my head. “There won’t be a next time though.”

“You sure about that?” he asked, sitting up and moving to straddle me, his fingers playing with the hem of my crop top. Ice-cold fingertips skating over the tattooed exposed flesh between the clothes I still wore.

“I’m not sure about anything right now,” I confessed quietly. “Are you?”

“One thing,” he said softly, tugging the fabric of my top up. I raised my arms for him, granting him permission to peel it from my body, leaving me topless. He cleared his throat as he stared at my bare breasts. I leaned back, pushing my chest out and he traced the lines of the tattoo that ran down my sternum. His throat was bobbing, eyes glazing, and then he was cupping my breasts, fingers tugging the silver bars that pierced through each of my nipples, and I moaned.

“I want to fuck you.” His gaze trailed slowly from my nipples to my face, lingering on my parted lips, then meeting my eye. “I want to fuck you the way boys fuck girls when they belong to each other.”

“But we don’t belong to each other,” I whispered.

“We do, Queenie. Just not in the way that the rest of the world thinks we do.”

He didn’t give me a chance to make sense of his statement as his head dipped and he captured one of my nipples between his lips, sucking gently, then nipping me hard.

I squealed and Ronan laughed. “Oh, I like that sound,” he purred, then he licked my nipple. He moved on to the other, grazing his teeth over it then hovering to speak. “Do it again.” His teeth sank into my sensitive peak, and I squealed louder this time.

“Ronan,” I scolded, but I didn’t want him to stop. It was habit to speak to him that way, and I hoped that he understood that. I hoped he could see right through me.

He bit me again, and again, and again. Until finally my squeals turned into breathy moans, and I was seconds away from begging him to fuck me. Except, I didn’t want to beg. I didn’t want to see the victory on his face when he realised exactly how far he had driven me. So with a burst of energy, I shoved him, knocking him onto his back and rolling with him so that I was between his thighs. His erection pressed to me through his jeans, and I clamped my lips between my teeth to stop myself from gasping. I would not give him that satisfaction.

He rolled his hips though, and I had to inhale sharply through my nose to hide my reaction. I shoved up onto my knees, then grabbed his belt, swiftly tearing it off and whipping his arm in the process. He cursed loudly and I grinned.

I should not have fucking grinned though. Before I could continue to strip him down, he was sitting up, his hands snaring my wrists, and I was being thrown back to where I had been only a minute before. Only this time I was being pinned to the mattress as he popped open his button and tugged down his zip with one hand. He shoved his jeans down to his knees, dragging his boxers along with them, and I choked on fucking air as his cock was freed.

He was thick, so much thicker than I had ever had before, and for a brief moment I wondered if I’d even be able to handle him. But one look at his smug, cocky, arsehole face had me determined to take him, even if it hurt. After all, pleasure and pain went together so nicely, and I was sure I’d get used to him in no time.

“Do you like what you see, Queenie? Do you want me to fuck you with this thick, hard cock?” His voice was low as he almost sang his questions, making me moan involuntarily.

My thoughts raced for a second, realisation hitting me that his voice—not just his words—was starting to do things to me. Come morning, I needed that to not be the case at all. How would I ever be able to listen to him sing again if he had this affe—.

“Fuck!” I screamed as he pushed into me, halting my rush of thoughts. He hadn’t teased, he hadn’t eased in. He filled me with one painful thrust.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his body unmoving as he gave me a moment to adjust. But that was all he gave, a moment and two quick words of comfort before he was sliding out of my thankfully drenched cunt and slamming back in.

Ronan fucked me hard. He fucked me like he wanted to ruin my life. Ruin my body. Ruin me for every man I’d ever meet in my future. And I loved every goddamn second of it. He punished me for every irritating comment I had thrown his way over the years, for every time I had started a fight with him over nothing, for every low blow and snide remark. He held me down and he stretched me out with his glorious cock until I was coming, grinning, and demanding that he keep going.

He fucked me through three more orgasms. Three more moments of losing my mind. I had gripped his cock like I never wanted him to stop, but I was certain I could only take one more explosive release. Ronan though, looked cool as a fucking cucumber as he continued to strike me deep.

“Struggling?” he asked.

“No.” I lied, both loving and hating the way he was looking at me. He knew damn well what he was doing, how fucking good he felt inside me.

“Mhmm.” He hummed, then dropped his weight, his mouth meeting my ear as he made shallow thrusts and whispered. “One more, Queenie. Come for me one more time and I promise I’ll fill your perfect little pussy as a reward for taking me so fucking well.”

The compliment made me moan, but the command made my jaw clench. I wanted to come for him, and I wanted him to do the same for me. But I wanted it on my terms now. I didn’t like him telling me what to do. Not now, not ever.

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