Page 22 of Dirty Delivery

“Mmm,” I hum. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Does this turn you on? Knowing you’re about to be punished?”

Her soft whimper is answer enough.

I slide my hands over her cheeks, massaging them gently to build the anticipation. “You will count each stroke,” I instruct, “and address me as Sir. If you move, I add more. If you miscount, I add another.”

Raising the belt, I bring it down with a sharpcrackacross her ass. She cries out, squirming against the bed.

“I’ll let you have that as a final warning. Now count.”

“One,” she gasps.

I tilt my head. “One what?”

She grits her teeth, her skin flushing. “One, Sir.”

The belt comes down again, and she writhes beneath me.

By the time we reach fifteen, her legs tremble, and her arousal drips down her thighs. She’s a mess of need, and she’s on the edge of breaking.

“Please, Sir,” she whimpers, her voice thick with desperation. “I need to come.”

I chuckle darkly, my hand trailing over her heated skin. “Get on your knees like a good slut. Take off my pants.”

A tremor wracks through her hands as she obeys to unzip my jeans.

“Now wrap that dirty mouth of yours around my cock.”

She starts slow, taking her time to adjust, but patience is not a virtue I possess. Groaning, I slide my hand into her luscious, auburn hair, guiding her to take me deeper. Her mouth is tightand hot—perfect, and I can’t help the growl that escapes me as I begin to move.

I’m consumed by the pleasure of her mouth as she takes me in completely, her throat tightening around me with each movement. The sound of her gagging and the sight of drool trailing down her face is a vision of raw beauty unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed. I pull out just as I’m on the edge, leaving her gasping for air. Lifting her under the arms, I place her on the bed, positioning her on all fours.

“Stay just like that,” I command and slam into her with one violent thrust.

Her cry of pleasure and pain fuels me, and I flex my hips into her again, harder, deeper. Her body tightens around me, and when she shatters, her orgasm rippling through her, I feel myself loose control, spilling into her as I groan her name.

Pulling out slowly, I watch as she collapses onto the bed, her body utterly spent. Her hair fans out around her head like a halo, framing her flushed face and sated smile. My eyes linger on the red marks adorning her hips and ass, vivid imprints of my indulgence and a testament to the depths of my desire. I leave briefly, returning with a warm washcloth and a jar of salve. Gently, I clean her up, my movements careful as I apply the soothing balm to her tender skin.

When she’s settled, I tuck her into bed and slide in beside her, pulling her close.

“I’m not your enemy, Savannah,” I whisper against her hair. “I just want to keep you safe.”

Her voice trembles as she whispers, “Then let me go home. We can get to know each other without being forced to.”

I close my eyes, hating the truth I have to tell her. “I can’t do that yet, mo stóirín. They found Vinny’s phone. They saw your messages. They’re looking for you.”

Her body shakes with quiet sobs as she breaks down, and all I can do is hold her as she cries herself to sleep.

Chapter Eighteen

Savannah

I’m sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, my arms folded across my chest as I glare at Rylan. He’s standing near the window, his silhouette sharp against the late afternoon light. He paces the room, his hands repeatedly raking through his hair, his expression tight with concentration, as if he’s searching his thoughts, trying to find the right words.

It’s not working.

“You’re stalling.” My voice cuts through the silence. “Stop stalling and just tell me. Who are you, Rylan? Why is Vinny's family after me?”

His shoulders tense, and for a moment, I think he’s going to brush me off like he always does. But he exhales, his breath heavy, and turns to face me.

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