Page 108 of Unrequited
“I want you. I want this. All of it, Seamus.”
I freeze. My breath catches in my throat, suspended like a thread stretched too tight.
“No,” he says softly, a low command wrapped in velvet. “Say it again. I want to hear my name again.”
“Seamus,” I whisper, the word barely more than breath now, a sigh, a surrender.
“That’s it. Oh, good girl. You deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”
“Please, Seamus,” I whisper again, need curling like smoke around my voice, pulling it taut. “If you touch me again, it’s too much?—”
“Trust me.”
He bends down, and his mouth is hot, dangerous, as his tongue flicks across my nipple again, teasing and tormenting until my hips rise of their own accord. My body is no longer mine. It’s his. All his. I buck, begging without words, drowning in the ache.
“Beg me,” he orders, a gravelly threat laced with desire. “I want to hear you beg.”
“Please,” I gasp. “Please let me. I need to, please, let me…”
“Will you obey me?”
“Yes,” I cry, trembling under the weight of how badly I need him. “I promise. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for you.”
Tears slip down my cheeks, hot, unrelenting. I’m undone, raw as he fingers me. I’m so close to the edge already. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come, but my body knows what to do now.
“Seamus,please.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, licking the other nipple with reverence that borders on worship.
“That’s my angel girl. I give you permission to come, love,” he says, his lips brushing against the swell of my breast like a vow. “You have my permission.”
He suckles. He strokes my cheek with fingers that almost feel gentle. And then I shatter.
Pleasure detonates through me, violent, blinding, a firestorm I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.
Blood pounds in my ears. Nerves light up like fireworks, bright and merciless.
I moan, my hips writhing, every part of me begging for more as he strokes my pussy, fingers my clit, plunges two fingers deep, curling them until they hit that perfect place, my G-spot, again and again, with ruthless precision.
He licks and sucks and presses until I can’t take it, until I dissolve into something boneless and breathless beneath him.
And then he’s kneeling above me. Watching.
“I want you on your knees,” he says, calm and controlled, as he unfastens the cuffs from my wrists. “I want to take you, love.”
I scramble to obey, eager and desperate, but he shakes his head slowly, the movement deliberate.
“No,” he murmurs. “I need to ease you into this, don’t I? We need time. More time.”
Then he shifts, pressing the thick head of his cock against me, and I gasp.
My arms wrap around his neck as he slides inside.
This time, it doesn’t hurt. This time, it’s nothing but pleasure, pure, indulgent pleasure.
He did this to me.
He broke me open, made me come so hard I shattered, made me wet and swollen and ready for him. And now I take him easily. Willingly.
