Page 65 of It Will Always Be You
“Shh now, pretty girl. Good things come to those who wait. You can be good for me, can’t you? After all, you want to be pumped full of my cum, don’t you?” His dirty words set me on fire as he feathers light kisses across my inner thighs, eyes locked on mine. Finally, his tongue flicks where I need it most, swirling around my clit as he pushes a finger inside me. Instantly, all words flee my head, and in their place is a series of moans and whimpers as he uses his knowledge of my body against me.
“Fuck.” I circle my hips as he reaches up to twist my nipple, and the dual sensation has everything inside me tightening, my eyes squeezing shut. “Jonathan—”
Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers, and my eyessnap open in outrage. “Eyes on me when I make you come,” he demands before thrusting his fingers back inside me. With a shout, I clamp down around the digits as I explode. I’m still trying to catch my breath when he frees my wrists before moving to stand at the edge of the bed.
“Come show me those pretty holes. Show me what’s mine,” he orders, stroking his hard cock, arching a brow when I don’t move. “Or have you changed your mind?” That has me moving in a heartbeat. Once I reach the edge of the bed, I reach down to spread myself open for him, earning a groan of approval before his hands wrap around my thighs, spreading me even wider.
“Look at that gorgeous cunt. So tight and wet for me, clenching around nothing. You need to be filled, don’t you, baby?” I bite my lower lip as he pushes two fingers inside me before removing them, centring the head of his cock at my entrance instead.
“Oh God,” I gasp as he pushes inside me.
“That’s right, baby. I am your God,” he grunts as he begins to fuck me relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around us, mixed with our moans like a symphony. If I ever doubted how much Jonathan O’Neill loved me, all it would take to rid me of that thought is the vision of him above me: the love and need radiating from his every pore, the tattoo of my eyes over his heart, the way he worships me every damn time.
His movements are familiar, and as he collars my throat, I hitch my left knee higher on his hip to deepen the angle.
“Please, more,” I whimper.
With a cocky smirk, he positions my leg over his shoulder and tightens his grip on my throat. I dig my nails into his shoulder as my vision gets fuzzy and everything tightens inside me.
“Harder,” I mouth, my voice stolen from me. With a curse, he fucks me even harder, not even pausing when the bed slides across the floor.
“That’s a good girl. Fuck, you’re choking my cock. Do you need my cum that bad?” he growls, reaching between us to pinch my clit. Inseconds, I’m shattering around him with a breathless cry. Cursing, he releases his grip on my throat as he follows me over the edge, flooding me with his cum. Pulling free, he collapses beside me, pulling me into his arms and kissing my forehead.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” he asks, running his hand down my back. Snuggling further into his chest, I press a kiss to his chest before tilting my head back to look at him.
“How I ended up here after all the chaos and darkness, I don’t know, but I’m so glad I managed to fight my way back to you. To us.”
Chapter 58
After the shitstorm that was dealing with Jen—the bitch biting off her own tongue to avoid talking, followed by Ciaran killing her in a blind rage—the last thing any of us wants to do is facewhateverBrennan and Matt have dug up.
But here we are.
“I still can’t believe she’d ratherdiethan talk,” Declan mutters, shaking his head like he still hasn’t quite processed it. If it wasn’t so fucking frustrating, it would be impressive.
“I can’t believe five grown men got played by one lying little woman,” I spit. “If word gets out…” I don’t even finish the thought. The shame would outlive all of us.
Dec snorts. Jack glances at his watch, clearly over this entire ordeal.
“Got somewhere better to be?” I snap, irritated by his indifference.
“Yeah,” he shoots back with a wink, “between my wife’s thighs.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s barely enough to lift the tension weighing on us all.
“Enough. Where the fuck is Bren?” Ciaran growls. He’s been apowder keg since he stumbled out of the lift—edgy, sharp, ready to blow at the smallest spark. He’s testing every last bit of my patience, and going by the way Dec is grinding his teeth, I’m not the only one.
“Christ. For the fifth time, he’s on his way,” Jack mutters before the lift finally dings open, spitting out Brennan, Seamus, and Matt.
The three of them look wrecked. Matt in particular—he all but folds into the nearest chair beside his dad, face drawn and pale. Looking at father and son, it’s hard to say who looks worse.
“Nice of you to join us,” Jack snarks.
Brennan just rolls his eyes while Seamus beelines for the vodka, pouring a shot like it’s water.
“Some of us were flying back fromBelfastat the ass-crack of dawn,” Bren says.
“Belfast? Why the fuck were you over there again?” Ciaran grumbles, looking somewhat alive for the first time all morning.
