“I do have a bed, remember?” She frowned up at him, but her hips lifted, a moan spilling from her as he drew the material down her legs. “This is completely decadent, Doogan.”
His smile was knowing. “No, baby, this is completely tame,” he assured her. “We’ll get to decadent real soon, though.”
Well, at least he was staying around long enough for decadent. She wondered how far from decadent this was in his opinion, though.
“I haven’t forgiven you yet.” There wasn’t a damned thing for her to hold on to. Her fingers curled, reaching above her, finding the rim of the hood and gripping it desperately as he pulled her boots from her feet and dropped them to the cement floor.
“Let’s see if I can convince you to forgive me a little faster.” The dark growl in his voice was the only warning she had before his lips lowered, his tongue swiping through the swollen folds and sending her senses into flames.
Dark, almost black eyes stared up at her as he licked at her, his tongue rolling around her clit, rubbing at it, tormenting the little nub with striking flares of desperate pleasure. And it was so good. So good she could only lift to him, moan and whimper for more. More sensation, more of the whipping, whirling sensations that made her feel him all the way to her ragged soul.
A heated, sucking kiss to her clit had her hips jerking to him. When his head lifted, she was ready to wail in protest.
“Take the fucking shirt off,” he groaned. “Let me see your pretty breasts, Zoey, and those hard, tight little nipples.”
Still watching her, he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub of her clit, then massaged it with a slow, rolling little move of his tongue.
She all but tore her shirt and bra from her, tossing the material to the floor, uncaring of where it fell. Immediately her fingers gripped her nipples, tightened on them, tugging at them as brutal fingers of overwhelming sensation tore straight to her clit.
“Fuck.” He pulled back, his gaze moving to her clit then to meet her eyes. “Your little clit’s throbbing for me, Zoey. Pushing against my tongue. So eager. It’s so damned eager to cum for me.”
“Then let me cum.” Lifting her hips, her fingers pinching at her nipples, she rode a wave of such intense pleasure she almost lost her breath.
“Not without me, baby.” As he pulled back, one hand gripped the iron-hard length of his cock that he’d already released from his pants.
Thick, heavy veins ran over it, blood pulsing through them in a throbbing rhythm. The plum-shaped head was dark, imposing in its width, and tucking against the weeping center of her body.
“I can’t wait, Zoey.” Hard, callused fingers gripped her thighs. “I can’t wait, baby.”
She licked her lips, fighting to breathe. “Don’t wait, Doogan. Fuck me . . . Oh God, Doogan,” she cried out at the first, hard push inside her gripping depths.
The tissue convulsed, clenched around the intruder, stroking and milking the hard flesh that came to a stop only a bare few inches inside her.
“Fuck. You’re tight,” he snarled, his teeth baring, extreme pleasure tightening his face.
“Take me hard, then,” she demanded, reaching behind her again to hold on to the rim of the hood. “Give me all of you, Doogan. Show me how to fly again. Make me burn . . .”
The groan that tore from his chest came as he drew back, paused, poised at the rippling entrance as his gaze locked with hers.
“Fuck me, Doogan,” she breathed out, her juices spilling from her aching pussy to meet the wide crest of his cock. “Hard . . .”
She needed him, ached for him; she’d been dying without him.
“Hard, baby, just like you want it.”
“Doogan . . .” She tried to scream his name.
Her body bowed, hips arching, her breath stilling in her throat as he thrust inside her, still not to the hilt, but he wasn’t finished yet.
The next thrust buried him balls deep inside her, pushing past the muscles hugged tight around his shuttling flesh as he groaned her name, the sound of hoarse male pleasure rasping over her senses.
“Have mercy,” he breathed, the hard rasp pushing her higher as he began the rhythmic strokes she knew would send her exploding into rapture.
And it wouldn’t take long. She was climbing, muscles tightening, the spiraling sensations building fast, burning bright as he came over her.
One hand gripped her hip, the other curved around the mound of a breast, his lips covering the hard point of a nipple as he sucked it into his mouth. Firm, deep draws sent fingers of fiery sensation rushing straight to her vagina. The convulsive clench of her inner muscles around each hard thrust inside her dragged a groan from his throat, a cry from hers. His teeth rasped and nibbled at the tight bud; his pelvis scraped across her clit with each thrust as his cock throbbed, the head burying deep. Each stroke inside her, each slamming thrust parted sensitive tissue, caressed it, stoked the sensations burning so bright and hot inside her.
“Doogan, Doogan please,” she cried out as his arms slid beneath her legs, lifting them, pushing her knees back, his hips moving faster, harder.
Completely open to him now, the snug, clenched muscles of her pussy tightened, flexed, and in one blinding second Zoey felt the world explode around her and inside her.
She jerked in his arms, her cries echoing around her, joined by the hard, harsh growl of her name and the feel of his release spilling inside her. Hard, pulsing ejaculations shot his seed to the depths of her pussy, filling her with him and sending her racing into the fiery center of ecstasy.
—
Catching his breath took a while. Long enough that Zoey dozed beneath him, warmed by the lingering heat of the car’s motor against the metal hood and his body. Sprawled beneath him like a sexual sacrifice, all those unruly black curls spilling around her, framing her flushed, sated features.
He wanted to smile at the sight of her, but to allow that one small measure of happiness free too soon could destroy him later, if she decided his baggage was too much, his memories and his mistakes more than she could handle in the coming years. Because once he had his ring on her finger he’d be damned if he’d let her go. And he wasn’t waiting too damned long to put that ring there if she fucked up long enough to agree to it.
Easing back, he grimaced at the excess pleasure raking along the head of his cock as he pulled free of her. Her little protesting whimper assured him that same pleasure had stroked across her senses as well.
“Come on, wildcat,” he whispered, lifting her slight weight in his arms and carrying her up the stairs to the apartment.
She curled against him, her head resting against his shoulder, her arms looped around his neck, and he didn’t miss the fact that she felt as though she’d always belonged there. Right there, against his heart, held in his arms.
Entering her bedroom, he moved to the bed, placing her in the center of it and stretching out beside her. She draped herself across his chest, relaxed, drifting, he knew, in a sensual aftermath he hated to ruin.
Hated to, yet he knew if he didn’t tell her what he needed to, then he never would.
“The night we danced,” he told her softly, pressing her head to his chest when she would have lifted it. “I told you I was married. I married Eli’s sister when she told me she was carrying our child. For six years, I lived like a fucking monk. I took the vows, I kept them. The night I met you nearly broke that resolve, though. I wanted you with a hunger that nearly broke me. And I had no choice but to walk away, because you deserved so much more than a man who would have had no choice but to lie to have you.”
And he’d nearly done just that. If Jack hadn’t been watching him with that disapproving frown, if he hadn’t known Dawg Mackay would kill him and he’d break her heart and forever lose the belief in him he’d seen in her eyes, then he would have taken her.