Page 18 of Bloody Knuckles

"Fuck," he growls, fingers digging into my flesh.

I pull back to admire the darkening mark. "Now everyone will know who's had their cock between my thighs."

He inhales sharply at my crude language. I roll my hips again, in a rhythm that has us both breathing harder. The thrill of reducing Dublin's most dangerous man to this state—flushed, wanting, following my lead—intoxicates beyond reason. I like this little bit of power I have.

"This proves nothing," he says, though his voice lacks conviction.

"No?" I unbutton his shirt slowly, revealing tanned skin and hard muscle beneath. Scars crisscross his torso—some from his father's abuse, others from his violent profession. I trace one pale line across his collarbone. "Seems I'm learning plenty about you, Cormac Donovan."

His patience snaps. Large hands cup my face, pulling me into another searing kiss. This time he battles for control, tongue invading my mouth with demanding strokes. I allow it momentarily before reclaiming dominance, grinding down harder against his erection.

He breaks the kiss with a curse. "What game are you playing?"

"The one you started." I unbutton my blouse slowly, revealing black lace beneath. His hungry stare sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs. "You wanted to use my body against me. Two can play that game.”

I guide his hands to my breasts, arching into his touch as his thumbs brush over sensitive peaks through lace. The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through me. For moments, I lose myself in it—the forbidden thrill of enemy touching enemy.

"Take it off," he commands, tugging at my bra.

"No." I capture his wrists, pinning them against the sofa on either side of his head. "You don't give orders right now."

Something dark and primal flashes across his face. His cock pulses against me, harder than before.

"You like this," I realize aloud. "The mighty Cormac Donovan, surrendering control."

"I surrender nothing," he growls, though he doesn't break my hold.

I lean down, my breasts brushing his chest as I whisper against his ear, "Your body disagrees. You like it when I tell you that you can’t touch me."

My teeth tug at his earlobe, drawing another muffled curse. I release his wrists to trail my fingers down his chest, across the ridges of his abdomen, to the waistband of his trousers. The outline of his erection strains against expensive fabric.

"Should I check how hard you are right now?" I throw his own words back at him, palm pressing against his length.

His hips jerk upward. "Christ, Aoife."

I slide to my knees between his spread legs, looking up at him through my lashes. His breathing turns ragged as I free his cock from its confines. The size of him sends a fresh wave of heat through me. Thick. Hard. Ready.

I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Pre-cum beads at the head, which I spread with my thumb. His muscles tense, jaw clenched with the effort to maintain any semblance of control.

"Still think you know me?" I ask, maintaining the torturous pace. "Still think you understand what I'm capable of?"

He doesn't answer except to thrust upward into my grip. I tighten my hold, increasing speed until a vein pulses visibly along his length.

"I could make you come like this," I murmur. "Or just leave you wanting more. Punishment for keeping me prisoner."

"Or you could stop teasing," he counters, voice strained. "And take what you clearly want."

The suggestion sends a bolt of desire straight to my core. My body throbs with need, eager to feel him inside me despite every rational objection.

I lower my head, maintaining eye contact as I circle the tip of his cock with my tongue. His sharp intake of breath is reward enough. I taste the salt of him, savoring the power of this moment before taking him deeper into my mouth.

"Fuck, Aoife—" His hand tangles in my hair, not pushing, just anchoring himself as I work him with my tongue and lips.

I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. His thighs tense beneath my hands. My own arousal builds with each muffled sound he makes, each twitch of his impressive length against my tongue.

When his breathing turns ragged and his grip tightens in my hair, I pull away completely. His cock stands fully erect, wet from my mouth, pulsing with need.

"What the—" he starts, frustration evident in every line of his body.

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