He paused at her breasts, breathing heavily, his eyes filled with such hunger. She half-expected (wanted) him to stop and ravish them a little (a lot), but kept his promise, his touch light and reverent. He cupped them in his hands, massaging gently as his tongue created a path downward with agonizing slowness. Warmth flooded between her thighs, and Bailey felt the accompanying ache in her breasts, swollen and begging for more of his attention.
Michael’s tongue traced around one nipple; his hot breath created the most wonderful sensations as he blew across them. She cried out when he finally sucked the hard tip into his mouth, nipping her lightly, then soothing the bite with his hot tongue. He continued rubbing, sucking, licking and biting for an eternity, alternating from one breast to the other, until she was nearly sobbing with need.
Leaving her nipples swollen and ultra-sensitive, Michael moved down across her belly, kissing each and every inch. “I’m going to spend hours here,” he whispered against her skin. “Caressing you. Kissing you. Talking to our child. I’m going to show you just how good it can be, Bailey. So good you’ll never doubt me again.”
She arched and cradled his head, his words washing away the last remaining vestiges of doubt. And then he was moving again, taking his attention down to her legs. With long, slow licks and tiny, stinging bites he worked his way from the tops of her thighs to the inside, opening her to him, with hands that seemed to be everywhere at once – on her hips, then along her thighs, then behind her knees.
When he finally touched her there, she nearly screamed. He ran his finger gently up and down her soaked folds, humming his approval. She answered by tangling her fingers into his hair and tugging.
“So eager,” he chuckled. “But not eager enough.”
He positioned her legs over his broad shoulders, giving him unimpeded access. When he replaced his finger with his tongue, her eyes rolled back in bliss. So skillful was he with his onslaught, she gave up trying to fight it and let it –—let him –—take her any way he wished, until she couldn’t stand another second.
“Michael!”
Lips and tongue swirled and sucked while his fingers penetrated and curled deep. Her entire body tightened; she gasped for breath. With her fingers clutched at his head, she tilted her hips, bracing for the orgasm that would shatter her. Every muscle tensed until she snapped, releasing wildly around him, crying out his name.
And still he stroked, sucked, and licked –—extending the climax until she begged for mercy.
He was her anchor, the only thing that kept her from breaking into a thousand pieces and floating off into space. Slowly, tenderly, he kissed his way back up her body until he lay beside her. Then he pulled her into his arms and held her.
“Oh, Michael,” she breathed, once she had regained the ability to speak. “That was ...”
“Good?” he murmured.
“Incredible. Intense. Amazing.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body clung to his, unwilling to relinquish the skin-to-skin contact.
“Ah, baby, I’m just getting started.” He kissed the corners of her mouth. Big hands caressed the curve of her back, then cupped her backside in a firm, possessive hold, drawing her against him. She draped her leg over his, only to feel the hot, hard length of him against her inner thigh. A ghostly echo of remembered pain cut into her orgasmic buzz.
“Relax, love. I won’t hurt you,” he promised when her concern slipped over her lips.
She believed him.
Against all logic and reason, before long Michael’s skilled hands and teasing mouth had her stirring again. Feeling his hard body fitted so perfectly against hers, it was impossible not to be aroused. She hadn’t even realized she’d been rubbing her hips against him, but oh, how she ached for him. Ached for him deep inside.
The throbbing between her legs grew as her body prepared itself for him. In less time than she would have thought possible, she was fully prepared to beg. He continued to play with her until she could bear it no longer.
“Please, Michael, I want you inside of me,” she crooned in his ear. His answer was a groan deep in his throat, guiding her hips as they rocking against him. “Please, Michael. Take me. Now, oh God, please.”
“No.” His answer was soft but firm as his mouth continued to make love with hers, his tongue doing all sorts of wicked things.
“Please, Michael,” she sobbed. “If you’re trying to punish me, I swear it’s working. Now you’re just being cruel.”
She reached between them and grabbed his shaft, squeezed and stroked in an attempt to persuade him, while imagining it was another part of her clenched around him.
Michael placed both hands on her hips, lifting her easily as he slid beneath her, resting her on his pulsing cock. “I am not going to take you, baby, because you are going to take me.”
Michael guided her until her hips hovered above his. Grabbing the base of his shaft, he held it for her.
Bailey licked her lips and looked into his eyes. His glowing, lust-crazed eyes. And realized what he was giving her. She felt him shaking beneath her, saw the need etched in his face and his tensed body, and felt a surge of power she’d never felt before. With a seductive smile that made him groan, she began to ease herself onto him.
His fingers gripped her hips like a vise, but his only movement was to roll his hips to improve the angle of entry.
“That’s it, baby,” he breathed. “Slow and easy. It’s all you. Take what you need.”
His voice broke off in a hiss as she dropped another inch. A stream of Gaelic oaths crossed his lips in a tormented whisper; she recognized them for what they were –—a prayer for the strength to withstand her torture.
Knowing she could drive him to such a plea inflamed her further. She had all the power. She was doing this to him. This was another chance to love him, and it was the only chance she would need.
Her hands splayed across his chest, nails raking across his nipples. He cursed again and his hips bucked, but she was ready for it. She was learning to read him, to anticipate his responses, reveling in the control she had over him. He was hers.
The realization slammed into her like a bus. He had given himself to her. A tigress roared to life inside her, and her nails bit into his skin like claws. She was the one he wanted. She was the one he loved.
There was no pain this time as her sheath stretched around him, only an intense sense of fullness. Of completeness. She took another inch, circling her hips to ease his passage.
“Ah, Bailey, it’s so good, baby. You’re killing me with that tight, sweet pussy. I never thought death could be so fucking good.”
Another inch, then two. He groaned. She watched him, fascinated, awed that she held the power to do this to him.
Bailey discovered that if she lifted a bit first, she could take more of him each time she lowered. Each mini-withdrawal allowed her to take him deeper, increasing her pleasure –—and his, if the tortured look in his glowing eyes was anything to go by. She tightened around him every time she rose, then relaxed and took him deeper with each descent. Her slow, explorative pace had them both gasping for air.
“Sweet fucking hell, Bailey, I feel like I’m going to explode. I can’t hold it much longer, baby.”
The thought of Michael releasing deep inside sparked another rush of slick wet heat, allowing her to slide the rest of the way and take all of him. Now that there was no pain, she could appreciate the feel of every throbbing vein, and knew that she would feel his release as if it was her own.
And she wanted it, wanted to feel his pleasure more than she’d wanted her own.
She squeezed her inner muscles, increasing the friction as she began a slow ride. Michael’s hips joined hers, rolling in perfect synchronization. Bailey threw back her head, her skin slick with perspiration; she rode him faster, harder. The pressure continued to build until she was desperate for release, the sound of her flesh hitting his like a beautiful symphony when paired with her cries and his growls.
She to
ok him. All of him. Held him inside her as they moved together, as sweet and perfect as any romantic fantasy she’d ever read about. Better, because it was real.
Her climax came barreling down, thundering as hard and fast as her heart. Beneath her, Michael’s body tensed, letting her know that he was right there with her. And then they were there, falling together. Even as the first waves began to crash over her, she felt him begin to pulse inside her. As her inner muscles bore down hard, they grew hot with the sensation of his release. Each pulse took her farther, until there was nothing except the feel of scorching heat and incredible fullness surrounded by melting, shaking flesh.
It was even better than she’d imagined.
Bailey collapsed onto his chest, exhausted, and his arms were immediately around her, holding her close. She could feel his heart pounding in rhythm with hers, felt his breaths as if they were her own. And she knew then with absolute certainty that no matter what, her heart belonged to him.
Chapter Fifteen
Bailey’s eyes popped open when Michael tried to extricate himself from her full-bodied hold. Chest to chest, one of her arms lay beneath his neck, the other tucked around his waist. Her top leg was hooked behind his knee.
A low rumbling sound came from her chest and she tightened her grasp.
“Did you just growl at me?” Michael asked. She repeated the sound, making him laugh.
“It’s time for your injection,” he told her softly, kissing her cheek.
“I think you’ve injected me pretty thoroughly,” she murmured against his throat before she kissed him there, and followed up with a languorous lick for good measure.
“I’ve dreamed of you doing that,” he murmured, exposing his throat to give her better access.
“Oh yeah? What else have you dreamed of?” Her hand reached down toward his fast-growing erection, skimming over his abs. As much as he wanted to take her again, he promised himself after their second hot and heavy session that he’d give her time to rest and recover.
He caught her wrists and shoved his hips back, out of her reach. “I’ll tell you if you promise to let me give you your insulin like a good girl.”
She pouted, and his heart swelled. Then her eyes took on a mysterious twinkle. “One fantasy for each shot, that’s the deal.”
He appeared to consider this as he unwrapped the pre-packaged syringe. Her eyes dropped to his package and she licked her lips. A fiery bolt of lust surged as he imagined those lips around him, loving him with the same passion she’d exhibited the night before when she’d ridden him to climax. Keeping his promise to take things slow and gentle was going to be even more difficult than he’d thought.
When he sat on the edge of the bed, she tried to crawl into his lap. In a split second he flipped her onto her stomach. One hand landed a warning slap on her ass.
“Be a good girl or I will spank you,” he said firmly.
“Is that a promise or a threat?” she asked. His cock throbbed when he saw the flash of heat in her eyes.
Note to self: gentle spanking might be more of an incentive than a threat.
Michael gave her the injection, then put the used needle in the disposable sharps container on the nightstand. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable. His palm came up and landed another slap on her other cheek. A quick check with his fingers confirmed what he already suspected. She was every bit as turned on as he was.
Turning her over, he promised himself he’d do better next time and covered her body with his own. Her legs parted eagerly as he slid into her. “That, baby, is a promise.”
“Just where do you think you’re going?” Michael asked, reaching out to pull her back against him. Other than necessary trips to the bathroom and kitchen, they’d spent most of the last twenty-four hours in bed. Neither one of them was complaining.
“I’m hungry.”
“You ate less than two hours ago.”
In the past few days, Bailey had gone from barely being able to stomach broth to wolfing down everything he put in front of her. He took that as a good sign. She was already looking much healthier, the sickly pallor all but gone, and the fullness of her curves growing lusher every day. Despite the initial sickness –—which he chalked up as due to stress more than anything else –—pregnancy agreed with her. She was glowing, and he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.
“I know,” she sighed, snuggling into him. “But you’re the one who knocked me up. It’s a little late to start complaining now.”
Michael’s hand slid down to her belly protectively. It made him the happiest man in the world to know that she carried his child. Well, almost the happiest.
“Speaking of which, you know, we still have the little problem of you not agreeing to marry me yet.” He felt her tense. The last few days had been pure bliss; neither of them had brought up the issue of marriage.
“Why won’t you say yes, Bailey?”
Bailey rolled away from him. “It’s not that easy. There are things you don’t know. Things you don’t understand”
“Then tell me, baby, because I’m dying here.”
He waited, resisting the urge to pull her back to him.
“I love you, Michael. Spending the rest of my life with you would be like having every fantasy I’ve ever had come true.”
That sounded about right. “Then I don’t understand what the problem is.”
“You don’t know who I am, Michael. You can’t marry Bailey Keehan, because Bailey Keehan isn’t a real person. Well, maybe there is a Bailey Keehan somewhere, but it’s not me.”
Michael had already figured that much out a long time ago. He shrugged. “So? I’m in love with the woman, not her name. What difference does that make?”
She looked at him with something like pity and said softly. “It makes all the difference in the world.”
He started to say something, but she held up her hand. She walked slowly over to the bed, then placed one knee on it and cupped his face. She kissed him long, and slow, and his heart rebelled. It felt too much like a goodbye kiss.
“Get dressed,” she told him, moving away. “I cannot discuss this knowing you’re all gorgeous and naked beneath that sheet. And you need to hear this.”
Bailey grabbed some of the clothes Michael had picked up for her and disappeared into the bathroom. He slung on his jeans and a soft solid flannel shirt. When Bailey re-emerged, she was fully clothed in a soft pink t-shirt and jeans. The first thing she did was cross the room and button his shirt.
“Honestly, Michael. I can’t think straight when I can see your bare chest like that.”
His lips twitched, and he grabbed her hands in his, pulling them to his mouth for a kiss.
“And we can’t talk about this here, either,” she said, indicating the bedroom. She tugged gently to get him to follow her into the next room.
“You sit here,” she said, guiding him to the couch. Bailey quickly moved out of his arms’ reach, hugging herself instead.
“Bailey, what the hell is going on?”
“Be patient with me, Michael. This isn’t easy for me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You might change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”
He shook his head. “Nothing you say can change how I feel about you, Bailey.”
Her features twisted for a moment as if in pain before she smoothed them out and took a deep breath.
* * *
Bailey hoped she would never have to have this conversation with him, but Michael deserved -—and needed -—to know the truth, because it now affected him as well.
“My name is not Bailey Keehan. Nor is it Riley Kirkpatrick, or Erin O’Shea, or any of the other dozen or so names I’ve been calling myself for the past ten years.” She chanced a quick glance at Michael, but his face gave nothing away.
She bit her thumbnail, summoning the courage to continue. “I’ve been running, Michael. Running since I was fifteen years old. Only now I’m pregnant, and it’s not g
oing to be as easy to run anymore.” She turned to Michael. “You have to promise me right now that if anything happens to me you will take care of our baby.”
“We will take care of our child together, Bailey. I won’t let anything happen to you.” There was steel in his eyes.
“Swear it to me, Michael. You’re a good man. I need your word.”
He nodded. Bailey relaxed slightly, breathing out a little sigh of relief. Without realizing it, her hand went protectively to her stomach. “Good.”
She paced back and forth, trying to organize her thoughts. She’d thought about this moment a thousand times over the last few months, hoping it would never come.
“I told you my mother was Irish and my father was Scottish, yes?” Michael nodded.
“My mother was Irish, but her family had been in America for several generations. Most of them lived in the northeast. The men worked as coal miners, mostly. They were hard-working, blue-collar through and through, good people.”
“My father’s family was about as far removed from that as they could get. They lived in Scotland, part of the upper echelon of society. Royal lineage, pure aristocratic bloodlines, the whole nine yards. My father, the eldest child and only son, was being groomed to take over the family business, as it were. He met my mother on a business trip to the States.” She smiled ruefully at the irony of it. “She was a waitress in a little out of the way café. It was love at first sight.”
“Anyway, neither family was accepting of the match. Both sides felt my mom and dad were making a huge mistake, and did everything they could to keep them apart. But in the end, true love prevailed and they eloped, turning their backs on their families and starting a new life together.”
“They had me right away. Mom had always intended to go back to work, but they ended up having one baby after another.” She smiled again. “Even after several years of marriage they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Fortunately, Dad was a smart man and a good provider. We weren’t rich, but we were happy.”
Michael (Connelly Cousins #3) Page 15