“I thought you’d never ask,” he grunts. “But I’ll do you one better.”
Before I realize his intentions, his hands are on my waist, pulling me up from my seat and straddling me on his lap. I moan when his hard cock rubs against my sensitive clit.
“Now, isn’t this better?” He cocks a smile, his hands on my hips forcing me to rub up against him.
“Better for you, maybe. I’m not so easily impressed.”
“You always did like to make me work for it.” He chuckles, amused.
“Your memory is faulty, too. As I recall, I always did most of the work.”
“Then why break from tradition?” he coos, his rich ale breath tickling my neck as he leans into my ear. “If you want to get fucked, then I suggest you work for it.”
His words should embarrass me, but they don’t. In fact, they spur me on, making me rub myself against him without his added persuasion. I ride his cock, our clothes starting to bother me, wanting him inside me already. But if I’m to be left hurting, then by God, so will he. It doesn’t take long for both of us to be panting, my nipples hard as jewels each time they chafe against my shirt, while his hands cup my ass cheeks to keep our rhythm going. When I feel he’s starting to lose all decorum, I lean in and bite his scruffy jaw, using my tongue to lick up his cheek.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, dry humping me to the edge of oblivion. “Stop playing games, acushla.”
“Who says I’m playing anything?” I taunt, my teeth sinking into his earlobe.
“Goddamn it,” he growls, hurriedly pulling the hem of my t-shirt over my head.
Inwardly I stand on the podium to receive my award for making him break first, but the image soon vanishes away when his mouth begins to suck at my tender breasts.
“Argh!” I arch my back, seeking out his forbidden kiss.
“Hold still, wife. Fuck,” he growls, pulling his mouth from one nipple to go to the next.
“Tiernan,” I sigh in utter desperation, tugging at his hair.
“Just say it. Tell me what you want.”
“Please,” I beg.
My nipple pops out of his mouth as his fingers wrap themselves around my neck. I almost cum from just this.
“Tell me,” he orders, his haughty gaze pouring gasoline on a large open flame burning inside me.
“I need you,” I relent, hoping my confession is enough for him to show me some mercy.
“No. You don’t. Tell me what you really need, and it’s yours. Say it.”
Virgen.
I swallow my pride and utter the words he yearns to hear.
“I need you to fuck me, husband. Please.”
The words have barely touched the air between us, but it’s all Tiernan needs to tip him over. His hands work double time to pull his cock out from his jeans and boxers, while I simultaneously pull down my pajamas and panties. It’s messy and hectic and deranged, but it’s only when I slide down his cock that true bliss occurs.
“Fuck. I missed this,” he groans, his eyes snapping closed for a moment as if it’s all too much for him.
“Tiernan,” I plead, so desperate for him to move that I’m sure I’ll lose my mind if he doesn’t.
“Ride me, wife. Ride my cock like it’s yours. Because it is, my sweet acushla. It is,” he mumbles incoherently, his hands back on my hips ready to guide me home.
Our gazes lock on where we are joined as I pull myself up and sink back to the base of his cock. Bringing air into my lungs becomes a useless necessity compared to this. This is all I need to keep breathing. To feel alive. Just this. Tiernan owning every part of me, claiming me body and soul, is all I need in this precise moment to feel free.
“Tiernan,” I whisper between gasps of pleasure, my hands holding on to his shoulders for balance.
I push myself up and down his shaft, my legs trembling with each ruthless thrust he impales me with.
“Look at me. Look at me,” he commands on a strained breath.
I do as he says, still overwhelmed with all the sensations traveling through my body. His hooded gaze pierces mine, and even though I didn’t ask him to, he leans in and kisses me. Tears start to sting my eyes at the knowledge of how much I missed his lips on mine. It’s like he’s breathing life into my broken, bruised heart and mending all its shattered pieces with his love.
But for that to be possible, Tiernan would have to love me.
And he doesn’t.
I’m just his plaything.
Something he can entertain himself with and then push away once he’s grown bored of it.