“You’re not just saying that because you feel obligated?”
She shook her head. “I know I’m screwed up, Fionn. I know the scars from the past couple of months won’t go away overnight, for either of us. But…if you want me…I desperately need you to show me.
“Take me. Right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lyse felt like she was standing there with her heart in her hands, begging him to love her. It didn’t matter if he loved her, not for this. He would take care of her; she knew that. And she desperately needed for this moment to finally come to pass. She’d deal with whether he returned her feelings or not later.
Much later.
Fionn sat on the tall bed in front of her, and she still had to look up to see his face. His chest was bare, all that creamy skin. He was a true redhead, his body pale where his shirt covered, lightly tanned where it didn’t, with a sprinkle of freckles across his shoulders that she wanted to explore with her tongue, if only she could get the courage.
Instead she stared into those bright green eyes and waited. She hadn’t taken a breath in forever, but she waited. Wanting him. Loving him.
Until his palms dropped to her thighs and skimmed up along the sensitive skin, taking her shirt with him. Up, up, up. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and she knew the minute his gaze landed on her breasts.
He groaned.
Her back arched instinctively, offering herself to him. She watched from beneath heavy-lidded eyes as he moved in, his mouth coming closer, opening. He didn’t tease her, didn’t make her wait—there was no licking, no rubbing of his lips across the pink, flushed skin. No, he latched on to her hard, aching nipple and sucked immediately.
“Fionn!”
Oh God, she’d known this would be good, but she could never have imagined how good, as if her every thought sank into the tug on her breast until nothing existed but Fionn’s mouth, her breath, and the zing of pleasure shooting from nipple to core and back again. She squeezed her thighs together, whining with the ache in her clit, powerless to control the hunger rising so fast and furious inside her.
When he let go, he scraped his teeth along the too-sensitive skin, and Lyse had to fight to hold back a scream. “I knew you’d be like this. My pretty wan.” He blew a warm breath over the moisture he’d left behind, and she could feel her nipple crinkle up, harden even more. “So sensitive. Feck!” His hands tugged at the panties still hugging her hips. “I need to see you.”
Her heartbeat raced, her skin flushing, but she didn’t stop him. All she cared about was getting his mouth on her again, getting that heavenly sensation overtaking her body again. The silky cloth slid down her legs, and then the world tilted as Fionn picked her up and placed her on the bed.
He didn’t join her, though. When the lamp on the bedside table clicked on, she fisted the covers beneath her, fighting not to cover herself. Fionn wanted to see her. She’d give him anything he wanted, no matter how self-conscious it made her. He was her master in this; he wouldn’t lead her astray.
A string of curses lilted across his lips as he stared at her bare body. Praise, that’s what they were. His words caressed her, his gaze sensitizing her body until she thought she’d go insane. “I want to see you too, Fionn,” she whispered. Then more boldly, “Show me.”
He didn’t take his time with his clothes; he jerked his zipper open so fast she was surprised it didn’t break. His pants were on the floor and kicked away seconds later. The tight boxers he wore molded to his body, doing nothing to hide the thick length of his erection from her gaze.
Holy shit. A hard swallow nearly choked her. That body, that penis was about to be hers. She was giving herself to Fionn “Irish” McCullough.
He palmed himself, gripping tight as his eyes roamed her body. When he licked his lips, she had the insane desire to get up on her knees, crawl across the bed to him, and beg for his erection in her mouth.
“This cock is so hard for you, love.”
Holy shit was right.
“Take them off.” Her voice was hoarse, her breathing ragged, but he understood. Hooking the waistband of his boxers, he shoved them down his body. His…cock, he’d called it—she filed that away in her store of Fionn knowledge—bobbed against his lower belly, thick and red, the tip wet. It was her turn to lick her lips.
“Lyse.” Her name was more growl than anything. “Keep looking at my cock like that and this isn’t going to last.”
She wanted it to last forever, but she couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling herself up, she came to her hands and knees and began a slow stalk across the bed. Where this temptress came from, she didn’t know and didn’t care; all she knew was that the heat rising inside her couldn’t wait a second longer.
“Feckin’ hell.” Fionn angled his cock out as if he knew exactly what she wanted. And he did. It took seconds to get close enough, and then she was leaning forward, the male, musky scent of him filling her nose, the salty taste of him settling on her tongue as she licked the broad head.
A rough groan left Fionn’s lips, so she did it again, lingering this time. When he widened his stance, bringing his hips in line with her mouth, she stopped taking her time and sucked him in just as he had her.
Fionn’s shout was barely muffled. He was trying to protect her, she knew, to keep their privacy in a house full of adults who knew exactly what those sounds meant. But oh, she wished he’d let go, that he didn’t have to hold back. She wanted to hear him shout his
