His chuckle is dark. Knowing. “You’re garna give me everything, Alana Beaumont.”
I like the way his brogue comes out at times like this. Normally I can’t tell he’s even Irish. “Maybe,” I breathe, sounding like I’ve run a 10k. “I guess this is okay.”
He rolls onto one elbow, tosses me onto my stomach, and slaps my ass. Hard. Before I can get out a protest, I’m on my back with him covering me again. “Doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing, break rule number one and I’ll retaliate.” He leans in, his mouth above mine. “And you might want to remember that your butt isn’t the only part of you I can spank.”
My pussy trembles. Hand to God, didn’t know it could do that.
His eyes darken as if he can read every thought I’ve ever had. Slowly, he grasps my wrists and draws my hands above my head. “Keep them here.”
But I want to touch. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m not fair,” he says, sinking his teeth into the vulnerable flesh between my neck and shoulder. Marking me again.
“Please,” I whisper, surprising myself. No matter what he says, we have to be temporary. This might be our only night.
He leans back and studies me. “Such a pretty please. All right. This time.”
I thrill at the thought of this lasting more than one night.
He kisses me again almost as a reward and I realize it’s a good thing we’re temporary. If he gave it half an effort, he’d own me. As this stands, I think I’ll remember this night until my dying day. My clit aches and I feel empty inside. He sucks on a nipple, and I nearly orgasm again but hold back.
He caresses my entire body as if memorizing each inch. “You’re giving yourself to me. Understand?”
“Yes.” I’d say anything right now. I feel like I’m drowning but have no desire to rise to the surface. But I frantically trace his body, trying to learn each hollow and sharp muscle, each wound and scar. There are so many. His back is shredded, and within the whip scars, I feel more pointed wounds from weapons. All sorts of weapons.
I push against him. Needing all of him. “Thorn?” I hiss raggedly.
He lifts up from my breasts, his nostrils flaring, looking like a predator in danger of losing its treat.
“I ache,” I whisper, gyrating against him. A big, gaping emptiness is inside me, and I need him. Need him to feel this. Need to understand I’m not alone.
Something in my gaze catches his attention and he nods, pressing against my entrance. “You’re on birth control and I’m clean.”
I pause. “How do you know that?”
“I know everything about you.”
He pushes the tip inside me, stretching me. “You’re sure.”
The fact that he asks again burrows deep into my heart and takes hold. “I’m sure.” This is my decision and never should’ve been anybody else’s.
Then Thorn is pushing inside me.
God, it hurts. I curl my nails into his taut arms and try to relax my body. I want this. Kind of. Maybe. Wait a minute—
He kisses me. Going deep, taking every thought out of my mind. Before too long, I’m kissing him back, my body on edge, my hands caressing up and down his arms to then tangle in his hair.
All the while, he continues pushing inside me. He reaches the barrier and we both hold our breath.
Truth be told, I wondered if it was still there. I had played sports as a kid, and hymens aren’t all that reliable. Unfortunately, I know it’s there, and he plunges right through it.
Pain shrieks through me and I arch, scratching into his skull.
“There you go,” he murmurs in Gaelic, kissing me again, unleashed fully this time.
Sparks fly and nerves flare, even with the pain. Pleasure and pain mingle and become one, much as they had when he spanked me. Finally, he’s inside me, all of him, and I feel way too full.
He lifts up, his eyes unfathomable as he watches me closer than anybody in the world ever has. Then he moves. Slowly at first, gauging my reaction, he pulls out and then pushes back in.
I hold my breath as more pleasure than pain ripples through me. Then he does it again, and when I widen my thighs for him, he growls. Low.
Releasing his hair, I scratch down his back and sink my nails into his tight butt.
It’s as if I’ve let him off a leash. He pulls out and shoves back in, setting up a hard rhythm that bounces the headboard against the wall. Thunder rolls outside and lightning strikes before the rain beats at the windows. We’re alone in this world, and there’s nothing except the two of us and this moment. I feel myself climbing the cliffs again as lights spark behind my eyes.
The roaring comes in from somewhere, taking over my senses. Then I explode, fragmenting into a million shards. I cry out his name, loudly, and hold on, trusting him to get us through the storm.
Whatever I’m feeling is more than pleasure. There’s no name.
I whimper and soften just as he stiffens and hardens, his body jerking inside me. I can feel each ripple through his muscles, and I hold him, wanting to tether him to the world.
He pauses, still inside me, and kisses me.
This one is gentle and soft. Sweet and promising.
I blink. While I’d meant to give up that stupid barrier in my body, I’m very much afraid I’ve given up more than that.
Forget my heart. Does he have my soul?
