by Mia Sheridan
He kept staring at me, his expression seemingly a mixture of tension and shame and a small bit of confusion. He let out a harsh breath, closing his eyes. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're right," he said. He sat up, tossing his glasses onto the bench behind him and then moving toward me until he was leaning over me. "But you want my truth, Lydia? I'll give you this one willingly. I want you, too." He paused, intensity vibrating between us as my pulse jumped and my breath hitched. "I want you so bloody much I feel like I'll die from it." As if in a dream, I leaned up slightly, and he gripped my upper arms and guided me until I was on my knees as he was, my body pressed against his, our breath mingling.
"We still have another round," I whispered hurriedly, glancing down at the cards. I needed to think. I needed to get my thoughts in order. This was . . . this was . . .
"It's a war," he said evenly. "And I win. You don't have any high cards left."
I licked my lips, believing him. Wanting to believe him even if he wasn't telling the truth. "And what will you ask of me? Truth or dare?"
"Dare," he said immediately.
"Brogan," I breathed, knowing where his thoughts were headed, knowing the nature of what he'd ask of me. And knowing I'd agree. My eyelids fluttered against my will. "We'll destroy each other. Again. You know we will." And yet, my hands came to his shoulders and I clutched him there, my actions contradicting my words of protest. I felt the current of our electricity running beneath my palms—the spark that had always existed between us. We'd indulged it once, and it had ruined us both. I feared now would be no different . . . and perhaps worse.
"Then let's at least destroy each other properly this time." His voice was low and slightly gravelly, and a shiver ran down my spine. He brought his lips to my neck and licked down my throat. I moaned a desperate sound of longing as if it had been lodged in my airway for seven long years. Sensation shot straight between my legs, my nipples hardening.
"Brogan . . ."
"Lie back," he instructed. I looked at him questioningly, but did as he said, scooting up the bed until my head was on the pillows where I slept. "I'm going to cash in on my dare."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Brogan
Her eyes held mine, waiting. Her breath seemed to be suspended as I moved closer to where she now lay. "I want ya to show me," I said, barely controlling my voice. I could hear my accent emerging and I didn't attempt to control it. I suddenly wanted to be myself with her, not the cleaned-up, polished version I'd extended so much effort to become. Not him. Not right now.
Tonight I was reminded again just how much she'd known me—the real me. More than anyone else. And she'd been right that my initial reaction had been to punish her for her knowledge and insight. Because it scared me and made me feel raw . . . but it was also a freedom. A freedom I hadn't felt in seven long years.
She blinked. "Show you what?"
"Show me how ya used to touch yourself when thinking of me. Show me what ya did, Lydia." I'd lie in bed and think about it, my hands wandering over my skin, pretending they were your hands touching me, stroking me. I'd moved those words aside earlier because we'd been discussing more important things, but I couldn't move them aside now, nor did I want to. I wanted to explore them thoroughly.
I'm cashing in on my dare.
The pulse in her neck jumped, color rushing to her cheeks. I had been halfway turned on the entire time we'd been playing cards, but now I was practically buzzing with need, my erection pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans, suddenly so aroused, I could barely focus.
Her eyes lingered on mine for several moments, her pupils dilated, her lips parted, before her expression softened into acquiescence—and something I swore looked like relief. She was going to do as I asked. A hot rush of desire headed south and landed between my legs, my entire body tightening. Holy feck. I watched as she began unbuttoning the buttons down the front of her dress, her blue-green eyes trained on my face. Christ, but she was gorgeous. I tried to hold eye contact, but my gaze was wrenched to what she was doing with her hands, each new glimpse of skin making my heart rate increase and my breath catch. When the last button came undone, her dress fell open, revealing her silvery-blue bra and underwear. She shrugged the dress off her shoulders, slipping her arms free. My eyes roamed over her greedily, and I heard a small groan come up my throat, unbidden. It'd been so long since I'd seen her like this, and she was even lovelier than I remembered.
Lydia. Beautiful. My everlasting dream.
Her hand moved tentatively down her flat stomach until she came to the waistband of her underwear. She paused momentarily, as if she was rethinking what she was doing, and I swallowed, desperate to watch. Desperate to taste, to touch. Just . . . desperate. Please don't stop.
"One summer day," she said, her voice low and breathless, "I was lying by the pool and you were nearby shoveling mulch into our flowerbeds." Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear and my eyes followed as if in a trance. "After an hour or so, you took off your shirt and used it to mop up the sweat on your face. God, Brogan," she let out a small sigh, "you were the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. I watched your muscles tighten and flex, the way sweat gathered at the base of your back and gleamed on your chest, and it was all I could do not to move my hands just as I'm doing now."
Her lips parted on a small moan and she closed her eyes as her fingers dipped lower. My cock throbbed helplessly. Jaysus. I wondered if I might embarrass myself by coming in my pants before I'd even touched her.
"That night I was lying in my bed, and I was still so turned on. I kept picturing those lines on the inside of your hips and the way I could see veins on your stomach that disappeared into your pants. I wanted to trace those veins with my tongue. I wanted to find out where they went. I closed my eyes and let my fantasy take over. You had stopped your work and joined me at the pool. I pretended you had asked if you could cool off and then hadn't been able to resist the sight of me in my skimpy swimsuit and had come over to my lawn chair and climbed on top of me." She let out a breathless little whimper as her fingers moved beneath the thin material of her underwear, pleasuring herself. I watched, fascinated, as her cheeks flushed with arousal and the pulse in her neck beat insistently under the delicate skin of her smooth throat. My eyes heavy, my head foggy with desire, I watched as she used her other hand to reach up and unhook the clasp at the front of her bra, her beautiful breasts popping free of the lace as she shrugged off the skimpy material. Oh, dear God in heaven. My dick pulsed again, and I felt pre-cum practically pouring out of my tip, my blood heating another three million degrees.
"I pretended my own hands were yours, Brogan. I've always loved your hands." Her fingers continued to move inside the underwear she was still wearing and she used her other hand to run one finger around a nipple. I watched, entranced, as it puckered. She moaned. "You'd know just how to touch me, just what I liked, what I needed. It was the first time I brought myself to orgasm."
"Lydia," I said, my voice shaky and sounding as if it were coming from somewhere far away. I moved closer, taking her hand from beneath the lacy material of her underwear and replacing it with my own. Her eyes popped open, hazy with lust. I watched her for a moment, waiting for some sign of approval. She closed her eyes again and arched into my hand. I let out a harsh exhale of relief, moving closer. She brought her hands to my arms, gripping my biceps. The room went dim. "Lydia," I choked out. I didn't know exactly how to tell her that if she touched me, I'd lose all control. Please understand, Lydia. Please understand because I need you too . . . so much right now.
She opened her eyes again, comprehension pouring through the lust, and I let out a relieved breath. She. Understood. She . . . knows me. Reaching over her head, she held eye contact as she gripped the bars of the bed frame. My heart pounded more fiercely in my ears, blood rushing through my veins like molten gold. She was the only woman who'd ever made me feel this way. Mo Chroí.
I pulled her unde
rwear down her legs and tossed them on the floor. Then I moved over her as she let out another small gurgling sound in her throat. "Let me show ya what I would have done if I had really been there," I murmured. "First I would have tasted your sweet nipples." I leaned my head down and rubbed my lips on her breasts, feeling the texture of her skin there—like hot satin—and then I licked one hardened peak, swirling my tongue around it several times before moving to the other one. Lydia's breathing increased, and she let out another sweet whimper. "God, you taste good, Mo Chroí. Like milk and honey. Still. Sweet and creamy." No woman had ever tasted this good before, no woman had even come close. I know your flavor, Lydia, and I can't forget it. No matter what I do, I can't forget.
"Brogan," she sighed, pushing her breast toward my face. God, I loved my name on her lips.
I sucked and kissed her nipples for several minutes until she was panting with need. Need me, Lydia. I want you to need me. I kissed slowly down her smooth belly, my tongue dipping into her bellybutton, learning the flavors and textures of every part of her. I licked over one hipbone, feathering my lips over that smooth, taut skin, moving lower.
"I would have headed here next," I said. "I would have needed to taste ya. I would have been dying for it then just as I am now." I moved my nose just over the core of her and inhaled. She was all honey here, with just a touch of salt. Something about Lydia had always seemed decadent. Hadn't I always felt ravenous with hunger for her? I'd lick her and taste her and eat her in small bites until I'd had my fill. My mind went fuzzy for a brief moment with the intensity of the moment, my senses on overload.
When I leaned in and kissed Lydia's bare vaginal lips, she let out a small gasp, her hands coming off the bars of the bed momentarily before she seemed to catch herself and put them back where they'd been. I adjusted my position, lowering my head again, taking in more of her fragrance. "God, Lydia, you smell like heaven. My heaven."
"Brogan, please," she gasped. "Please . . . I need you."
Triumph surged through my blood at her words.
I used my fingers to spread her wetness, circling her swollen clit slowly, and she gasped and moaned. "God, you're soaked," I said, wanting to sink inside her so badly I was desperate with it. Desperate to join with her, to feel her heat surrounding me, to make her scream with pleasure. Finally.
"Yes, yes," she moaned.
Leaning forward, I took her clit between my lips and sucked gently, feeling the way her heart beat here, too. Lydia writhed under me, pressing herself against my face.
"Oh God, oh God," she moaned, opening her legs wider to give me more access, the movement making me shudder with satisfaction. I used my tongue to circle the swollen bud and then pushed one finger inside her wet opening, feeling the snug clench of her muscles around my finger. It was almost enough, but not quite. I moved my finger in and out and I sucked and licked her as she uttered indistinguishable sounds, syllables that started as words and left off in breathy gasps. I was mindless, too, the only thought in my head her satisfaction, my only goal to leave Lydia boneless with pleasure. This time I wanted to do it right. I wanted to fuck her in every way possible, and so thoroughly she'd never want anyone else to touch her except me. I growled against her wet flesh, and she bucked into me, screaming as she came against my face.
A fierce burst of pride moved through me as her body shuddered and clenched with pleasure. "Oh, oh Brogan," she moaned. "Oh God, yes."
Moving up her body, I brought my mouth to hers before she'd even opened her eyes. We kissed deeply for long moments before I brought my hand back down between her legs and used the heel of my hand to massage her pubic bone gently, right above her still throbbing clit. "Come for me again, Mo Chroí," I said, putting my mouth back on hers and probing her lips with my tongue. Her mouth stopped moving, and I opened my eyes to see that hers were opened, too.
"I . . . I don't think . . ." she whispered against my lips, but then her head fell back on a moan as I continued to work my hand. "Oh God, Brogan, I think I am, I—" She arched into my hand on a small scream as she came again, moving her head back and forth on the pillow. I circled my hand more and more slowly until I came to a stop.
Lydia opened her eyes, her expression baffled and drunk with pleasure. I smiled and she blinked.
"Shall we see how many times I can make your sweet body come tonight?" I whispered, leaning in and kissing her again. Her hands, which had still been gripping the bed, let go and fell limply above her head, her eyes falling closed.
For a moment, I simply watched her. God, I was stunned at how beautiful she was, limp with pleasure and waiting for more. My heart thrummed with excitement, my stomach muscles clenching. All mine tonight.
I sat up quickly and got off the bed, going into the bathroom. Several months ago, Fionn had brought a housewarming gift when I'd first purchased this property. It was filled with liquor, massage lotion, and other items he’d deemed home essentials. I'd just remembered there were condoms in it, too. Sometimes Fionn was bloody, fecking brilliant. I went quickly to the linen closet and grabbed the box from the still unopened basket and returned to the bedroom where Lydia hadn't moved a muscle.
Tossing the box on the bedside table and stripping quickly, I moved over Lydia again. "Are ya okay?" I asked.
Lydia's expression gentled as her eyes moved over my face. She placed her open palm on my cheek. "Yes." She removed her hand and brought her lips to mine and kissed me. I melted into her. Her hand moved between us, and she wrapped her fingers around my cock as I sucked in a breath. I closed my eyes as her hand moved up and down my length, causing delicious bliss.
"Is tú amháin a bhí ann i gcónaí," I breathed, not sure if I'd said it out loud or not.
It's always been you, and no one else.
She stroked me again and again, leaning up slightly to watch her hand on my hard, pulsing flesh. Another small bead of pre-cum leaked from my tip and I groaned. "I need to be inside ya. I can't wait anymore."
She leaned back as I grabbed the box of condoms and tore it open, unrolling one and sliding it over my erection, my shaking hands making the job take twice as long as I needed it to. Lydia watched, her gaze growing hazy again. As I came back over her, I moved her arms back over her head, this time to rest on the pillow.
"Will I ever be able to touch you?" she murmured.
"Yes, Mo Chroí. Just not this time. It's been so long. Please, just not this time." She nodded, and I used my hand to guide my cock to her entrance. Her cheeks were still beautifully flushed, her lips wet and swollen from my kisses, and I gazed at her as I pressed inside, my body breaking out in a light sheen of sweat at the tight clench of her warm inner muscles squeezing my shaft. It felt so bloody good, so good. So right. Inevitable. This was my victory, I realized with sudden clarity. Right now, this very moment. Not money, or a company, or any amount of power. This. But it still wasn't enough. More, more, more, I wanted more. I was buried inside Lydia and even now, I wanted more of her. I always had. I felt drunk and joyful and confused and vulnerable.
I began moving and a burst of pleasure made me gasp. "Ya feel so good," I murmured as I moved more quickly, the intense pleasure gripping me so I couldn't help but to speed up my thrusts, reaching for the climax I needed so desperately. I reached up and laced my fingers with Lydia's, holding her arms over her head on the pillow as I brought my mouth back to hers, thrusting my tongue in her mouth to the rhythm of our lovemaking. She wrapped her legs around my hips and moaned into my mouth. Goosebumps broke out on my skin as I held my orgasm at bay, waiting for the one I sensed might be approaching for Lydia.
After about a minute, I let go of her hands, balancing myself on one elbow next to her on the bed and bringing my other hand between us to find her small spot, still sweetly swollen. I used my thumb to rub it gently as I pounded into her, filling and retreating.
We were both moaning, Lydia meeting me thrust for thrust, when her body tensed, and she broke from my mouth, sobbing out another orgasm. The feel of her falling
apart beneath me—the clenching of her inner muscles—sent me flying over the edge, and I thrust into her one final time, groaning out my own climax as the pleasure swirled through my abdomen, to my cock, and all the way down to my toes. I gasped. "Holy fuck, Lydia, God." I had never come so hard in my life. I circled my hips slowly, trying to draw out every last bit of pleasure.
Finally, I pulled out of her slowly, and Lydia let out a small whimper. I smiled against her neck, feeling amazed and . . . satisfied. The most satisfied I'd ever felt in my entire life. This . . . this was what I'd wanted all along. Her. Always her. I rolled off Lydia, pulling her with me, holding on. We were both breathing heavily, Lydia's face pressed to my chest. I suddenly realized there was wetness rolling down my skin and I startled, leaning up to look at her face. "Hey," I said, "what is it?" She tipped her head back and her gaze was watery, her lip trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes widening as if she was as perplexed as I was by her tears. "I, I don't know why I'm crying. I just, I . . ." Her words were lost in a small sob, and she buried her face back against my chest. I pulled her tighter, offering her words of comfort. A pressure formed in my heart. Was she already regretful about what we'd done? Had she not wanted this?
"I don't regret what we did," she said as if reading my mind. "I wanted it. So much. It was incredible."
I turned so we were facing each other and used my index finger to tip her chin up, looking into her impossibly lovely face, drenched in emotion. I thought I understood, though. "You've been carrying a lot, Lydia. For a long time. You've had so much on your shoulders, and no one to help, no one who really understood." And what we'd just done had broken the dam. "Making love to you was intense for me too." I kissed the tip of her nose. "I feel it too, Mo Chroí."