Page 9 of Naughty Irish Fate
“Fuck you are gorgeous. Give me those eyes while I stroke your pussy baby.” I grunt at his filthy words that just make me hotter.
But, I don’t look away. I watch him grow hotter with every stroke, every pump of his fingers once he slides one, then two, and then three inside me. The post behind me bites into my skin as I rub and shimmy but I don’t care. It blends stinging pain with pleasure unlike anything I have ever known.
“Rook... Oh!” I shout into the skies, panting as he flicks his thumb over my clit and rubs at that spot deep inside me that rips me open.
“There it is, Wyn. There it is. Come for me, baby. Let me see you come for me. Give me those eyes while you let me feel how good it is when you come.” Gasping, I shove forwards against him, all my limbs clutching at him.
Brow touched to his forehead, I chant his name as I come, shuddering and quaking hard. Growling, he watches me before licking my mouth as his fingers still pump inside me. I kiss him back as if I don’t realize this is going nowhere else but this pier. Like it might mean something more than it possibly can.
Whimpering as his fingers slide out of me, I suddenly feel panicked again. Not because of the water crashing beneath us. Not because of how high the pier stands over the churning sea. Because I am not sure what comes next. Never been very good at this part.
“Jesus Christ, Wynnie.” I flush hot at the gravel grunt in his words and then moan when he yanks me hard against him. His cock is thick and pushing at his zipper and he rubs it against my wet center.
Beneath us the waves crash as the sea churns. I clutch at him, suddenly desperate for more. For his hands on my bare skin, the weight of him on top of me, the push of him inside me. But something flashes in his eyes and I realize I won’t be getting any of that. And, I wonder why.
“It’s late, Wyn. Let me get you home.” Rooker looks conflicted though. If not for that look, that brief flicker of hesitation, he might have crushed me completely.
My feet hit the pavement. Glancing back at the pier, I refuse to look at him. I feel the weight of my coin in my pocket. I snatch it out and we share a look. Without a word, I flip in the air.
“Heads.” I call it as it coasts through the air.
“Tails.” Rooker grins but it doesn’t touch his eyes and I feel cold.
Heads. Something tightens in my chest and stings my nose. Burns my eyes. Pulling the coin away from him as he goes to reach for it, I laugh. It’s forced, rusty and tight, but it almost sounds like a laugh.
“Night, Rooker.” I tuck the coin away as I push past him, careful not to touch him again.
“Wyn. Bronwyn. Wait. Just... wait.” I don’t hear his feet on the pavement though, so I push on, heading back down the street alone.
Fate answered for us both. Too bad it was a few tosses too late.
