Page 28 of Naughty Irish Liar

Catie

I couldn’t answer, I had no words in me. Only feelings and sensations and I wasn’t able to fully swear I’d heard him right. As I stretched up on my toes to chase after his mouth he took it from me and streaked it along my neck.

I swear on the baby Jesus’ gravestone—even though I wasn’t super religious, that my moan was part whore, part second whore.

He’d turned me on so fast I was still catching up.

Did I want this? His mouth and hands all over me? Bet your ass.

Was I scared? Uhm, little bit. But only because he was Ronan and I wanted him to feel exactly as I did. To be as deliriously turned on by me as I was for him.

But this … strong and sure male hands all over me, cupping my butt, yanking me in closer so I felt every hard ridge of his body, so new to me it was difficult to breathe.

“Knew it would be like this,” I heard him mutter, almost in a curse, like he hated the fact he was enjoying me. “Goddamn you, Catherine.”

I was too much in my own desire to take offense while I pleaded for him to kiss me again.

He did. Forcefully. Expertly. Until all the air left my body and I found myself lifted into a hold, legs dangling. “Bedroom?” He growled.

My eyes wide, I pointed behind him.

He kissed my neck the whole walk there. Sucked and made a mess of my underwear.

Clinging to his shoulders, my neck arched back in an angle not entirely comfortable, but any discomfort was forgotten when he lapped all my pleasure points.

Oh, Jesus lord.

“Yes,” I puffed, rubbing against him, not caring if I seemed slutty. Slut me up, because I wanted him right this second. “Ronan…”

Setting me on my feet I couldn’t determine if it was lust on his face or he was just mad. His brow was puckered and there was tightness around his lips.

“Are you drunk? I’m not fucking you drunk. You’ll have to eat something to soak it up.”

A laugh spurted from my lips. He was so damn serious… so …responsible that I fell for him a little more.

“I’m not drunk. Do you want me to do a sobriety test?” I teased touching both index fingers to my nose.

He scowled but dove down for me like a monster from underneath the bed. I opened my mouth and took the kiss he delivered.

“Clothes off, Catherine,” staring at me while his nostrils flared. His accent thicker and more pronounced. He leaned down into my personal space bringing back his unique scent strong enough I wanted to bury my face and maybe lick him for a while.

“Lose the clothes,” he told me again. Standing in my spacious bedroom next to my king size bed like he had no place else he wanted to be, yet tension still made his shoulders rock solid up by his ears.

Bossy asshole.

I swallowed and slipped the camisole over my head. There’s no sexy way to take one of those off. Had I known my V-card was going to get stamped today I would have worn something easier to remove. So when I tossed it on a French armchair my hair was a mess.

He looked at my bra, his nostrils flared again…thank god I never skimped on underwear. Half cups with little lace detailing. My girls might be small, but I always dressed them nicely.

“Shall I keep going?” My hands went to the waist of my jeggings.

“This is sex, Catherine.Just sex.” He took my hands away from my pants and replaced them with his own. “I’ll make it good for you. So good you’ll wonder how you haven’t come hard like that before.”

Holy god.

“I don’t normally do this.” Understatement of the year. I wanted to giggle but at that same time Ronan whooshed my pants and underwear down and all giggles dried up. Next he unhooked my bra from behind.

His gaze burned between my legs. You know how it is when someone stares at you, you get that overwhelming urge to touch that place, to check everything is in order. I covered my mound with a palm, only for him to remove it, and he held my wrist between his fingers, he went on staring. “So, the drapes don’t match the carpet,” he rasped.

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