Page 128 of Ghosts Don't Cry
I kiss each line. His breath shudders out, rough and uneven.
Near his heart, I find another inscription.
Memory bleeds in darkness.
I trace it with my tongue. His breath hitches, and for a moment we both still.
“I thought about you,” he whispers into the silence. “Every fucking day.”
I kiss the words again then move up to capture his mouth. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His hand lifts, hooking around the back of my neck and pulls me back down. Mouths fused together, he rolls until I’m on my back again. His hand finds the button on my jeans, and pops it open, before pushing beneath my panties. The first stroke over my clit makes me arch off the bed.
“You’re soaked for me,” he rasps.
My nails drag down his back in response. When his fingers slide inside me, stretching, teasing ... and the way he watches me … eyes locked on every flicker of pleasure on my face … it makes me unravel faster. He curls them just right, and I gasp, my hips lifting off the bed.
“There,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. “Rightthere.”
He finds that spot again, watching my reaction. His other hand grips my hip, holding me in place when I start to squirm.
“Ronan—” His name comes out broken.
“I know, Phare.” His voice is strained. “I can feel how close you are.”
He teases me, taking me to the edge and pulling back, making me whimper. His breath ghosts against my ear, and when he speaks again, his voice is lower,darker.
“Tell me what you need.”
“You. I need—” I can barely form the words. “Please, don’t stop.”
His fingers press deeper, his thumb finding my clit. “Like this?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
“Do you like that? The way I touch you … the way I make you fall apart.” His fingers slow, a tease that makes my hip rise, chasing his touch.
“Please, Ronan. Don’t stop. Touch me.”
“Where? How? Tell me.”
“I need your fingers, your mouth. I need all of you.”
“Tell me again.” His voice is low and thick with satisfaction.
“Please. Touch me. Don’t stop. I need you.”
“Fuck, Lily. You have no idea what hearing you talk like that does to me.”
He slides down the bed, forcing my legs apart, and then his fingers are gone, replaced by his mouth. His tongue strokesover my clit, and the sound he makes, low and hungry, vibrates through me.
“Fuck.” The word is muffled against me. “I’ve dreamed about doing this to you again.”
He flicks his tongue over me, sending a sharp wave of pleasure through my body. I arch, my hands clawing at his shoulders, nails digging in, my breath a series of broken pleas as he works me closer, dragging it out until I can’t take it anymore.
His name falls from my lips in a shattered cry as I come undone beneath him. His mouth doesn’t leave me, drawing every last drop of orgasm from my body. When I float back down, he presses one last kiss to my inner thigh. Before he can move back up my body, I stop him.
“It’s my turn.”
He lets me push him onto his back, and I slide down his body, my mouth tracing the taut lines of his abdomen, the deep grooves of muscle. He hisses in a breath as I take him in my hand, stroking slow, teasing, making him curse under his breath.
