I tug the skirt off her legs, dragging my palms along her thighs as I go, feeling every inch of her smooth skin under my calloused hands.
When I lower my mouth to her stomach, she lifts slightly, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I let my lips move slowly, tasting her, breathing her in as I press kisses along the dip of her waist.
She sighs, low and throaty, and I feel the tension gathering in her muscles as I take my time, as if we have all night to learn each other again.
"Ruairí," she whispers, and there is something raw in her tone, a plea that makes my blood pulse harder.
I drag my hands up her sides, my thumbs brushing the swell of her breasts over the lace that barely covers her.
I lean in and catch one taut peak between my lips, sucking slowly through the fabric, my teeth grazing lightly until she gasps.
Her hand tightens in my hair, urging me closer, but I lift my head just enough to look at her.
"You taste like trouble," I say, my voice rough, and then I hook a finger under the lace, pulling it down to free her.
I lower my mouth again, this time on bare skin, tongue circling until her breath breaks.
Her hands tug at my belt, frantic now, and I let her unfasten it, sliding out of my shirt when she pushes at it.
Mychest is bare, marked with the scars she knows too well, but her hands move over them like they mean nothing, like they are hers to claim.
"Slow," I tell her, even though I am the one barely holding back.
I kiss her again, deep and hard, our mouths colliding with the heat of everything unsaid, and my hand slides between her thighs, just enough to feel the heat there, to press against the damp silk of her underwear.
She moans into my mouth, and I smile against her lips.
She's soaked through.
I can feel it as I press my fingers more firmly into the silk between her thighs, the heat of her blooming against my hand like she's been aching for me since the moment I left.
I drag the fabric to the side and stroke her slowly, just the barest touch over her folds, not giving her enough, not yet.
She writhes beneath me, but I hold her down with my other hand spread flat across her stomach.
Her skin is warm and tight under my palm, rising and falling with the rhythm of her shallow breathing.
I hook her underwear with both hands and pull them down her legs, letting them catch at the knees for just a second before stripping them off entirely.
She spreads for me without needing to be told.
I slide two fingers through her pussy, parting her with a slow roll of my wrist that makes her eyes flutter shut.
"I want you loud tonight," I murmur, voice thick.
"I want them to know who you belong to."
Her hips buck, trying to force me deeper, but I pull back just enough to make her groan in frustration.
I like her like this—needy but proud, trembling on the edge and still trying to glare at me through it.
I move down the bed, spreading her legs wider as I go.
I kiss the inside of her knee, then the soft skin of her thigh, watching her squirm with every pass.
When I finally pressmy mouth between her legs, she gasps so loud I have to grip her hips to hold her steady.
