All I Want is You_A Second Chance Romance

by Carter Blake

  This entire idea of his is batshit crazy.

  Yeah, I know that I shouldn’t even be thinking about actually accepting his offer. There should be no weighing of pros and cons. The whole thing’s absurd.

  Here’s what I should be doing: I should be telling him no, flat out, before throwing this drink in his face and telling him to get the fuck out of my quaint little cottage.

  It should be insulting to me. He wants to knock me up just so he can get his book deadline extended and get his cock wet at the same time with none of the responsibility that comes afterwards.

  And maybe I’m a little insulted by all this. I’m not some fucking baby-making scapegoat to be used because he can’t handle some fucking writer’s block.

  But baby fever is a powerful force not to be underestimated. It’s like this giant rush of phenomenal fucking cosmic power right to the ovaries.

  Instead of doing all those things I should be doing right now, I make the mistake of looking up at him from the whiskey in my hands.

  Damn it, I really shouldn’t have done that.

  He’s looking at me from across the room with those goddamn blue eyes of his that I’ve been a sucker for since day one.

  It’s like he can undress me, fuck me, and see into my very soul all at the same time. It’s a weird blend of arousing and annoying.

  And then there’s the accent.

  The man was born hot enough as it is. But God, in her infinite fucking wisdom, had to go and give him an accent on top of it.

  And that isn’t even the worst part of it all.

  Oh, no. Not even close. Because, and I know from experience, he’s amazing in bed.

  And—writer’s block notwithstanding—he’s incredibly talented and creative. Even when he’s an asshole, he’s still so fucking charming.

  It makes you want to hit him with an SUV—which I’ve already done—and then take him to bed afterward. And I’ve done that part, too.

  Albeit in reverse order, but still. Did it.

  Knocking back the whiskey in my hands, I try to get a read on him.

  It’s hard—I haven’t seen him in years. And even then, we never really took the time to get to know each other on a personal level.

  Not that it would matter right now anyway.

  All I can really focus on are those piercing blue eyes of his, looking straight at me. And it makes it hard for my brain to operate—outside of telling me to kiss him.

  I turn away and put the glass on the counter.

  “Let’s say, down the road you decide that, for whatever reason, you want to be a part of this baby’s life. And I tell you to get lost and never show your face?”

  With that, I turn my head and look at him from over my shoulder.

  “Then I would respect your wishes,” he tells me with a shrug. “I know this isn’t the most conventional business arrangement. I get how crazy it is. But isn’t life meant to be a little crazy?”

  Crazy is one thing. This is outright fucking insane.

  But he does have a point.

  And I, admittedly, have always played things safe. Maybe crazy is exactly what I need in my life right now. Maybe I’ve earned the right to have a crazy moment or two after having to deal with that fucking Dickhead I was married to.

  Turning to face him, I do my best to not get lost in his eyes.

  “This…this is big, Killian. This isn’t exactly something that I can just answer on a whim.”

  I don’t even realize that I’m walking across my cottage towards him.

  “I get that, lass. I completely understand.”

  My eyes catch his looking down at my tits. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a tad bit relieved that they weren’t looking back into my own eyes. Because then, they might as well be looking into my soul.

  But all this talk about baby-making now has me thinking about the actual act. I can see that he’s already been thinking of it, too.

  Before I know it, we’re back to where we started. His arms have mine in their grasp, and the palm of my hands are pressed gently against his firm chest.

  “I’m going to have to sleep on it.” My voice comes out so husky it surprises me.

  “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  The word is barely out of my mouth before our lips meet like tidal waves colliding against a rocky shore in the middle of a torrential storm.

  God in heaven, I forgot how good his lips feel.

  Killian

  I forgot how fucking good it feels to kiss her. Her luscious lips are catching mine between hers in a series of soft, velvety brushes.

  But neither of us is ready for it to end with just a kiss. No fucking way.

  My arms slide down around her slender waist to pull her closer to me as I grow impatient, our lips lusciously grazing into a deeper kiss.

  Her arms wrap around my neck, and her tits press firmly up against my chest. Our tongues tangle together, and I can feel my cock stirring.

  With all the whiskey I’ve had tonight, that is nothing short of a miracle.

  Her kisses are as eager as mine, and her tongue is covetous, insatiable.

  As for me, it’s like I can’t get close enough.

  I slowly slip one hand up under her sweatshirt, gliding my palm over her ribs, inching slowly toward those beautiful, ivory mounds. Although I half expect her to move away, to chide me for taking liberties, she doesn’t.

  She’s enjoying it just as much as I am, and I find myself wondering just how far into it she wants to get.

  If she knows how bad I want her.

  If she wants me anywhere near as badly.

  Fuck it, boyo, just enjoy the moment.

  My hand still under her shirt, I yank her bra down and her warm, full tit spills into my hand. I cup it, giving it a firm squeeze before I tug on her nipple, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.

  “Killian…” Her lips are slightly parted as she pants my name. The sound is like sweet music to my ears.

  Ever since our first night together, I’ve longed to hear her husky whispers again. It’s not something that I can easily forget.

  Not that I’d want to let go of those memories. They’ve visited me in several of my more pleasant dreams over the past few years.

  Now she’s finally here in my arms again. I’d be a fool not to savor this moment as it unfolds.

  “You’re so sexy when you moan my name like that.” I kiss her again, shoving my tongue in her mouth greedily, hungrily.

  She moans softly into my mouth, the gentle hum skirting across my tongue.

  That’s my answer. She’s just as into this as I am.

  Pulling away slightly, I lean down to drop lingering kisses against her jaw and ear. I drag my tongue down her neck, stopping to nip here and there.

  “Ah!” She grabs my hair and tugs me back up to kiss her.

  “Impatient lass you are,” I grin roguishly.

  “You have that effect on me.” Her green eyes, locked with mine, are glimmering with desire. The look on her face is enticing, provocative, and fucking smoldering with a flame that’s about to turn my entire being into a conflagration of desire.

  Fuck, I want her. I’ve never stopped wanting her.

  In one swift motion, I pull her sweatshirt over her head. Her red locks cascade over her shoulder. She bites her bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth.

  Fucking vixen.

  The contrast of her smoldering hair against her fair skin is driving me completely fucking mad. I pull her to me again and crash my lips against hers.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I moan between kisses, never taking my lips off hers.

  My hands dip down to the button of her jeans, undoing them before I slip a hand down the back and grab a handful of her arse.

  I slip my other hand inside and start sliding her jeans down, exposing her black lacy panties.

  Kneeling slowly as I slip her jeans further down her legs, I kiss her beautiful body the entire way down until her jeans a
re pooled at her feet.

  I take my time getting back up, letting my hands roam over her thighs and her stomach as she writhes against me.

  She is perfection personified.

  We kiss again, moving back toward the couch where I lay her down and hover over her, one leg between hers.

  “Killian, please…”

  It’s as plain as fucking day that she wants me. I fucking want her, too.

  “What do you want me to do?” I tease her, taking her left nipple in my mouth without breaking eye contact.

  “Ohh…” She whimpers as I graze my teeth over it. “Don’t tease me.”

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving me orders, Becks. I’m in full control here.”

  With my middle finger of my left hand, I reach down and stroke her pussy lips through her panties. One touch is all takes for me to notice how hot and how very fucking wet she is.

  Her eyes are half-lidded as she gazes at me, begging with just a look.

  It’s like her desire’s given her an astronomical fever, and my cock is the only cure.

  Leaning down, I drop soft kisses down her stomach until I reach just above her pussy.

  She sucks in a breath as I dip even further down. I lick her cunt lightly through the thin fabric, getting just the briefest taste. Then I grab her panties in my teeth, pulling them down and out of my way.

  She’s naked in front of me, staring into my eyes. The faintest of a blush creeps up her cheeks, but she doesn’t shy away.

  “Gorgeous,” I whisper, barely audible.

  Kissing her once more, I slide my finger over her clit, rubbing gently as she shivers beneath my touch. I skirt around her pussy lips with my middle finger before sliding it inside of her.

  Soft. Wet. Tight.

  So very tight.

  My thoughts drift back to the first night we spent together and how her pussy just sucked my cock right in.

  It’s doing just that to my finger right now. I insert one more, then start moving them in and out gradually, teasingly. My eyes never leave hers—I want to see every nuance of her every reaction as I bring her to new, blissful heights.

  She shudders as I curl my middle finger, finding that sweet G-spot. Her hips lift to meet me, so I increase the movements.

  I glide my thumb back and forth over her clit, stimulating her inside and outside at the same time.

  She’s grinding against my fingers now, and my cock is ready to burst out of my pants. I want nothing more than to shove my dick in and give her a baby right here and now.

  But it’s not the right time. Not just yet, Mack.

  Good things come to those who wait, after all.

  Her pussy walls clench against my fingers, squeezing and releasing as she reaches the brink of her climax.

  “Killian!” She throws her head back, arching her pelvis and coming all over my fingers.

  Her face as her orgasm rocks her body is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

  It was sexy three years ago; it’s sexy now.

  But I’m not done yet.

  Rebecca

  I’m naked and panting on the couch. My chest heaves, and a sheen of glistening sweat covers my body.

  Killian’s fingers are still inside me. He wiggles them, smirking down at me as I gasp, and my hips buck involuntarily.

  The pleasure is still rolling through my body. It’s been so long since I’ve had an orgasm that I nearly forgot how fucking good they feel.

  Something that I’ve somehow forgotten, until now, is that only Killian has ever made me feel like this. And that smug look on his face seems to say he knows it.

  Not wanting the moment—or the heat—to end, I reach for and grab his face with both of my hands, pulling his mouth to mine.

  I kiss him passionately, intertwining my tongue with his. He tastes of whiskey, a subtle blend of oak and caramel filling my senses. And I’m in the mood to get drunk on him.

  More than that, I just fucking want him.

  The memory of the first and last time we slept together—which lay dormant, almost forgotten, for years—now burns brightly and vividly in my mind. It was mind-blowing.

  He pulls his fingers out of my pussy and brings them to his mouth, sucking each one like you would after devouring some amazing fried chicken from Roscoe’s—or whatever the likely beer-battered Irish equivalent of that would be.

  “Delicious,” he moans, and then his mouth is on mine again.

  “I want you, Killian,” I wrap my arms around his neck pulling him close. He pulls away slightly, looking at me with unmasked, primal desire.

  He nips at my bottom lip, his hands roaming over my body.

  My body temperature’s rising, and he’s dialing up the meter so much that my pussy’s throbbing with anticipation.

  I lift my hips to press against the bulge in his pants, slowly gyrating back and forth.

  “Fuck, Becks.” He pushes back up against me, but when I move my hand down to touch him, he grabs it and pins it to the couch with his.

  “Mm-mm. Not yet.”

  A quick peck on the lips is all I get before I feel his tongue on my jaw then my neck. Before I know it, I’m crying out in pleasure as he grabs one nipple in his hand, and the other in his mouth.

  His tongue circles it before claiming it between his teeth and flicking his tongue back and forth over my swollen flesh.

  Still sucking on my nipple, his hand finds my clit again.

  “Ohh!” I can’t help the half-gasp, half-cry that escapes. The sensitivity level is off the charts, and a simple touch is enough to get my juices flowing once more.

  He doesn’t stop there, though. His lips and tongue continue to tease me as he moves his head down.

  His hands spread my knees apart, and his palms rest on the back of my thighs.

  Oh fuck, is he going to—

  “Killian!” I throw my head back and arch my pelvis as his tongue flicks across my already sensitive clit.

  He looks up at me, and as our eyes meet, a teasing grin spreads across his face. He traces the inside of my pussy lips and dips his tongue inside, moving it ever so lightly.

  It’s enough to drive me fucking insane.

  I run my fingers through his hair, grabbing handfuls and silently beckoning him to lick me where I want it most.

  He alternates between gliding over my clit and sucking on it. Every now and then, he stops, looking at me with a devilish expression that stirs both frustration and lust.

  He brings me so close to the edge, pulling back at the last minute, denying me my release.

  “You’re a fucking tease,” I pant. I can barely keep my composure. My fingers tangle tightly in his hair, and now I can’t stop myself from grinding against his tongue desperately.

  I can feel him smiling as he licks slowly around my clit.

  Infuriating asshole.

  Finally, it seems like he’s had enough of teasing me. His tongue is flicking rapidly back and forth, up and down. The pleasure is building, and all I can think is pleeeaase don’t stop.

  Squeezing his head between my thighs, I let out one last cry as he takes me over the edge.

  My body shudders as his tongue slides inside, lapping up all my juices before he slowly pulls away.

  Exhausted and spent from the most pleasure I’ve experienced in the last three years, all I can do is lay motionless on the couch.

  Killian crawls up onto the couch until his head is resting on my tits. It’s like he thinks they’re a fucking set of pillows that exist solely for him.

  I lean up, pushing him into a sitting position, and straddle his lap.

  My hand dips down to his pants, slipping inside, where I can feel the tip coated in pre-cum.

  He wants me just as bad as I want him. All I can think now is that I want that massive cock of his inside me. I want to show him the same pleasure he’s shown me and take us both over the edge again, together.

  Before I have a chance to do anything else though, he grabs my
hips and moves me off of his lap. Then he stands up, adjusting his pants to shift his now very visible erection.

  Confused, I look up at him as he leans down to kiss me.

  “The rest’ll have to wait.”

  Is he fucking kidding me?

  I grab my sweatshirt from the floor and throw it on as I follow him to the kitchen.

  Walking to the table, Killian grabs the rest of the Locke’s and the bottle of Jameson sitting on my counter.

  “I’ll be borrowin’ this, lass. Not like you’re going to be able to drink for a long while, anyways.”

  Well, that’s presumptuous of him. He thinks he’s got me in the bag.

  “If it’s the whiskey you want, take it,” I admonish him, waving towards the door. “But don’t make the mistake of getting ahead of yourself.”

  That stops him in his tracks, and he turns around as he steps out onto the porch. “Getting ahead of myself? Becks, you clearly—”

  “Just because I enjoyed myself doesn’t mean that I’m going to agree to this just yet,” I cut him off. “Making a woman come and having a baby are two totally different things. Surely you didn’t think that was enough to seal the deal?”

  The look of surprise on his face is evident.

  The feeling of satisfaction I get as I shut the door in his face is glorious.

  Killian

  I line the bottles up next to one another on the kitchen bench and stare at them.

  And they stare back at me.

  It doesn’t make the decision any easier.

  Shall I drink from left to right, right to left, or in alphabetical order? It’s a fucking tough choice, and one I’m prepared to make.

  Except, which way shall I go? Will it actually make a fucking difference, or am I just being a total dickhead here?

  I don’t really want an answer to that question. Self-criticism can be so fucking destructive, but not as destructive as total fucking lovesick anguish though. But that’s another story altogether.

  Fuck it. I close my eyes and grab a bottle.

  Ah, the Rampur Single Malt. If I have to start somewhere, I may as well start simple.

  I stare at the first glass I pour for what seems like an eternity.

  Why is it that time has the ability to change depending on the circumstance? I mean, it should always be the same, and yet there are times where it feels like it’s fucking flying along and others where it’s barely moving at all.