Around them, customers turned their heads to watch. None of them stopped what they were doing, though, continuing on with their meals and drinks and games as they regarded her and Cian as if they were a particularly interesting television show.
“Everyone is staring. Put me down right now!” Sarah wiggled in his arms, but he continued to smirk, and when her hip brushed against him, she understood why.
The more she struggled, the more he liked it.
“Pervert!” Glaring up at him, she froze. Still, the rock-solid evidence of his arousal—his arousal for her—against her hip had heat rushing through her in waves. Her arms tightened around him, and she found her eyes tracing the curves of his lips, wanting them on her more than she’d ever wanted anything, ever.
“Never claimed any differently, darlin’.” Grinning wickedly down at her, he turned so that she was sheltered from the view of everyone else in the room. “You asked me how I see you. I’m just going to answer your question.”
Sarah’s eyes locked with his. The intensity she saw there made her pulse skitter. Ignoring everyone else in the room, he carried her toward the swinging door that led to the kitchen. Before he pushed them through, she heard voices placing wagers behind them.
The Sarah she’d always thought she was felt mortified at what had just happened.
The Sarah she wanted to be pressed herself more tightly against Cian and rubbed her cheek against his chest, right where she knew one of the metal hoops to be.
“Shit.” Above her, he hissed out a breath, the stare that was fixed on her darkening. “Dirty girl.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that—she’d never been called dirty in her life. As they swept past a grinning Tommy to another door, though, she found that she wanted to be what Cian said.
She wanted to be dirty. Wanted to be filthy with him.
“Where are we going?” Her voice was breathless as he shoved through the door. On the other side was a short flight of stairs with a tidy boot rack at the bottom. She started to struggle, worried about him trying to carry her not-insubstantial weight up those steps.
He didn’t even try. Instead he pressed her into the wall, then slowly slid her down his body. Her heated flesh worked over the rigid length of his erection, and she whimpered once as he repositioned her so that her legs were wrapped around his waist, her body caught between the wall and him.
His lips found hers, and Sarah cried out as he plundered her mouth. The kiss wasn’t soft, wasn’t exploratory—it was a full-on demand, claiming her and reaching for more.
His tongue slid past her lips, and she parted for him, letting him sweep inside her mouth. The kiss was raw, dirty, as filthy as any sex she’d ever had. When he broke away, pinning her again with that stare, her vision was blurry, unable to focus on anything but him.
“Are you starting to understand how I see you?” Hands sliding down, he cupped her ass, holding tightly as he thrust against her. His hardness worked over her soft, aching heat, and Sarah’s entire body clenched as she shook her head.
She wanted to answer, but she wasn’t able to make a sound. Couldn’t do anything except feel.
His mouth worked over hers in time with his hips pressing into her welcoming heat, his tongue promising what he would do later with his cock. Every slow drag of his rigid length between her legs ratcheted her excitement up higher until she was gasping into his mouth.
“Jesus!” She’d never felt like this. She wasn’t a virgin, but any sex she’d had before this moment was like…it was like watching a spark trying to catch, a little orange ember struggling to burst into a flame.
With this man? Every touch of his fingers, his lips, his skin was an inferno devouring her from within.
“Got a better name you can call me than Jesus, darlin’.” That Irish lilt, low and brushing against her ear made her whimper. He laughed, deep and dark, before sinking his teeth into her lobe. “Say my name, Sarah. Say it.”
“Cian.” She gasped as he thrust against her again. “Cian…I need.”
“I know.” Licking his way down the damp column of her throat, he slid one hand from the curve of her ass, stroking over the quivering muscles of her thigh before burying it between her legs.
He stroked his thumb over the seam in the denim of her jeans, and she shuddered, her body jerking away even as her fingers dug into the lean planes of his back, begging for more.
“That’s it.” He whispered into her ear, the warmth of his breath on her lobe making her shudder. “I want you to fly. Fly for me.”
He stroked over the seam again, and then again. The rough denim stroked through her lower lips under his touch, scraping over her clit, and her breath started to come in pants.
“Cian!” She was so close, so close, but she needed… She didn’t know what she needed.
“Come for me, Sarah.” Cian scraped his teeth over the incredibly sensitive skin of her neck. “Come for me right now.”
Without warning, he sank his teeth into the side of her throat. The low burn snapped through her, lighting her every sense on fire and centering in the ache between her thighs. She cried out as she crested, release tightening her body until he was all that anchored her in the sea of sensation.
…
Cian pressed his forehead against the cool plaster of the wall, struggling to gain his breath as Sarah shuddered in his arms. She’d come apart under his touch before, but the way she’d just exploded after just a few strokes between her legs?
He was humbled. And more aroused than he’d ever been.
“Cian?” Sarah mumbled softly against his shoulder. Her hands were still on his shoulders, her legs twined around his waist.
The steamy siren’s call of her center pressed into the rigid length of his cock. He’d known arousal before—he’d been driven out of his mind with it before. But right now he wanted so badly to sink into this specific woman’s heat he was nearly out of his mind.
“Hold on.” Her hands slid behind his neck as he pulled her away from the wall. Her curvy legs tightened her hold around his waist as he started up the stairs, rocking her heat against his, and he bit back a curse.
“I want you.” Her voice had been loosened from the Guinness, her laughter warm as whiskey. “I’ve never felt like this before. I want you right now.”
“I live to oblige.” Kissing a trail down her neck, he pressed her closer against his body as they reached the top of the stairs.
Angling toward the back of the small but cozy flat where he lived above the pub, he started to carry her toward the bedroom, then changed his mind. Earlier in the day, he’d run upstairs to start a fire in the large stone fireplace, to chase away the chill that he hated to come home to after he’d closed the pub down for the night. The roaring flames had died to a warm glimmer, tiny flickers of crimson and orange nipping at the crumbling logs, casting a soft glow out into his living room.
A soft, romantic glow. Something that might add a bit more atmosphere to the moment than his rather plain bedroom with the old sheets.
He had a fuzzy rug down in front of the fire because he thought it looked nice, but now it gave him ideas. Snagging a cushion from his couch as he turned and carried Sarah through his living room, he noted her arched eyebrow and pressed his lips to it.
“What are you doing?” She tilted her head, and he took the opportunity to claim her mouth again. Her lips parted on a soft sigh as he took her deeper and deeper into the kiss, until her nails were again digging into the muscles of his back, and her body was straining against his.
“Easy now.” Slowly he slid her down his body, a moan escaping him as those soft curves heated his flesh. He set her down on her feet, and she swayed, looking up at him with those big, sapphire blue eyes. Her lashes were long, casting intriguing shadows over her cheekbones that he wanted to trace with his fingers.
The insistent way his cock pressed against his jeans told him he could do that later. Later, he’d take his time.
He needed her now.<
br />
“Undress for me.” The firelight begged for it, and he could imagine nothing he’d like more than to watch her reveal that creamy skin to him, inch by tantalizing inch.
She stiffened beneath his fingers. He paused, a hint of irritation warring with his desire.
“I just… I don’t…” She looked at the floor, and Cian cursed, unable to hold it back. Her gaze snapped back up to his face, her eyes wide.
“I’ve told you every way I know how that I want you, Sarah.” Tangling a hand in her long gold hair, he tugged. “You need to empty your head of those other lads. I want you here, in the moment, with me. Just me.”
“I don’t understand.” She closed her eyes, tipped her head up for another kiss, but he stepped back, a wicked idea forming.
“I’ve shown you that I want you. That you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. And yet your head is still filled with the ideas that others have crammed in there.” Crossing his arms at the waist, he tugged his sweater up and off, tossing it to the floor. He couldn’t quite hold back a smirk when her eyes widened as she looked him over.
Moving slowly, deliberately exaggerating his movements, he undid the button of his jeans then slid the zipper down, the metallic rasp loud in the quiet night air. A small sound escaped Sarah as he shoved his jeans and boxers down to his hip bones.
Her eyes were riveted on the inches of rigid cock that he’d revealed. As he looked at her, she ran her tongue over her lips, and he couldn’t help the image that appeared fully-formed in his mind.
Sarah, naked, her full curves completely on display, kneeling at his feet, her hands braced on his inner thighs. She would look up at him with those big, innocent eyes as she took him between her lips, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked.
He couldn’t hold back the moan. Regarding her intently, he took his erection in his palm and stroked himself up and down.
Sarah moaned, her cheeks reddening. He pumped himself again and again, swiping his thumb over the tip to gather the bead of moisture that had appeared.
“You like to watch. You’re dirtier than you let yourself think.” Letting his jeans slide down one more inch, he lowered himself to the floor in front of the fire. Reclining on the cushion with his hands behind his head, he stared up her behind half-lowered lids.
“I like to watch, too. And I can think of nothing I want to see more than you, undressing for me in the firelight.”
“I—” For an excruciating moment, he thought she might refuse, that her wounds went even deeper than he understood.
Then she crossed her arms at her waist and, with an audible swallow, began to lift her soft sweater up and over her head.
Cian licked his lips as a thin, pale strip of her stomach was revealed, then more, then a bit more still. The tantalizingly slow striptease was all the more seductive because he knew that she wasn’t trying to be sexy.
She just was. And when she finally tugged the cashmere up and over her head, tossing it aside with his sweater, he couldn’t look at her enough, standing there with her hands fisted at her sides.
“Jesus, Sarah. You’re beautiful.” The firelight flickered over the soft expanse of her skin, shadows highlighting the generous swells of her breasts, which were simply displayed in a pale pink bra.
She looked as though she might disagree, but again, after seeming to argue with herself, she let her hands stray to her waistband. He watched as she mimicked his earlier movements, undoing first the button, then the zipper, then sliding her jeans down until they rested on her hips. Then, after sucking in a huge breath, she pushed them the rest of the way, kicking them off once they’d reached her ankles.
Her panties matched her top, that pale, pearly pink. The fabric was thin, and under his stare he watched her nipples pucker with need, the dampness grow between her legs.
“Come down here.”
With a sigh of relief, she did, but when she would have laid beside him, he tugged her on top. Arranging her so that she straddled his bare stomach, he stroked a finger between her legs, grinning when her hips bucked and her thighs tightened around him.
“Like that, do you, darlin’?” Grasping her by the hips, he ground her down on top of him, pressing his hardness into her. “Feel that? I’m looking at you, all of you, and that’s what I think.”
Propping himself up on one elbow, he caught her chin in his other hand, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. She inhaled softly, her warm breath misting over his face.
“Cian?” Her voice was soft as he nipped at her chin.
“Mmm?” Reaching up to grab her shoulders, he slid his hands down her arms then over to her back, where he swiftly unhooked her bra. She gasped as it fell forward, clutching the loose garment to her breasts with both hands.
Then, with deliberate slowness, she pulled her hands away. The bra came with her, and he could see those plump, generous breasts, the large rosy tips pointed and begging for his mouth.
“Are you going to keep talking? Or are you going to…are you going to fuck me?”
His entire body tightened, hearing the filthy word coming from those sweet lips. He remembered what he’d realized about her earlier, that she didn’t want the sweet or the gentle.
She wanted to be treated like a woman who was wanted. He was going to give her what she wanted.
“Yes.” The whisper was soft but spurred him on. Hooking his fingers in the elastic waist of her simple panties, he rolled them down and sent them flying.
“My jeans.” His fingers dug into her hips as his cock slid through her wetness. She blinked down at him slowly, her hips rocking, sliding back and forth over his length. “Sarah. Get my jeans.”
Her legs tightened around his hips as she stretched, reaching out for them and tugging them back to where they lay cushioned on that soft rug in front of the fire. Her big blue eyes tracked his movements as he pulled a foil square from the back pocket, tearing into it with his teeth.
“Lift up a bit.” One day, he’d have her roll the condom down his length herself, but right now he needed her too much to wait. He sheathed himself, then fisted his length, lining it up with her wet heat.
He paused a moment, reading the lines of her body. Her palms were pressed flat on his chest, her legs tight around his hips, her body rocking with anticipation. She wanted this, craved this as much as he did.
Not able to wait any longer, he thrust while pulling her down on top of him, filling her with one hard stroke.
“Oh!” She cried as he surged forward, rocking his hips to bury his length inside her completely. For one wild moment she stared down at him, her fingers curling into his muscle, her nails biting into his skin, her lips parted with wonder at the sensation.
And then the woman with the hard shell cracked wide open. Fisting her hands in her hair, she began to ride, her movements fast and wild, her voice a harsh cry. Her abandon spurred him on, and his hands dug into her hips, his words urging her to do what she wanted, to use him, to wreck herself on his cock. He felt his release start to build in the base of his spine. He wasn’t going to be able to stop it or slow it down, so he’d have to bring her over the edge with him.
His thumb found her clit and started to circle. She jerked and moved even faster, and when she tightened around him, her inner walls milking his own release, his world spun around him.
When he’d returned home to Ceanmore, he’d known he was searching for something that he hadn’t been able to find anywhere else in the world. Now, with this one woman in his arms, he finally felt like he’d come home.
Chapter Eight
Her fingers hurt.
Pausing for a moment, Sarah tucked the brush between her teeth and stretched out the cramped digits by pressing her hands together. The early afternoon light streaming through the thick glass of the window was bright enough that she hadn’t bothered to turn on any of the lamps, preferring the clear white illumination.
She’d prepared the canvas the day before, covering the surface with a thick layer of pale go
ld. Today she’d penciled in the lines of the bowl of grapes that she’d set on the windowsill, and had added in the first layer of color. Her fingers, accustomed to typing but not to clasping a pencil or paintbrush, were protesting loudly, but when she looked at the kaleidoscope of colors on her work, a surge of giddiness made her grin.
She remembered now, recalled the joy of holding that brush in her hand and turning the images in her head into something material. It never came out exactly the way she’d planned, but that was part of the magic of it.
How did I give this up?
Suddenly sober, she pulled the brush from between her teeth, reaching for the mason jar she was using as a water glass and taking a big gulp, liquid dribbling down her chin. That was a question that didn’t have an easy answer.
In so many ways, she was still the same person she’d been at eighteen, the girl with stars in her eyes, who’d dreamed of gallery shows and international recognition. The girl who had listened to what her parents had said about financial security and sensible schooling, who had pushed her dreams down deep, searching out a career in which she could at least appreciate art, since her parents had made her understand that trying to make a living at it was foolish.
Yes, in many ways she was the same. She was practical, responsible, reliable.
Something, though… Something had changed when Ross had cheated on her. While her practical side nodded, agreeing sensibly that it was silly to marry someone you didn’t love, another side raged and fantasized about going after his manly bits with a sharp pair of manicure scissors.
Was that something new? Or had the dreamer with a little bit of wildness finally kicked her way free from where she’d been shoved, demanding that Sarah act on her desires whether they were sensible or not?
Setting her glass down, Sarah stepped back, looked at the start of her painting. She hadn’t added the final details yet, but…well, it was good. She knew it was good.
For a moment, she let herself imagine it hanging in a gallery somewhere—any gallery, she didn’t care. Just someplace where people could come in and look at it, discuss how they felt about it.
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