He's never going to forgive me. Who am I kidding? He might not ever get the chance to. The thought that this might be the last time Ieversee him makes my eyes water. I never thought this insufferable giant beast would mean so much to me, but caring for him and seeing all of him makes me more sure of what I need to do.Thisis thepart of his missionthat's haunted him for 50 years.And he can't find them, but I can.
Extracting myself from his hold, his arms fall to bracket my hips. His unwillingness to release me echoes my own sentiments, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet my lips. A content, relieved sigh flows from his mouth to mine as I slant our mouths together, slowly savoring him. Every time we've had sex, it's been hard and frantic, like we could use each other's bodies to hide from our minds.
But just this once, I don't want to cower from who we could be if things were different. I press myself closer tohim, wishing Icould plaster my skin tohisand never be apart again. His hands sink lower, wrapping those big fingers around my thighs and lifting me, my knees cradling his waist as he walks backward, sinking into the couch and pulling me onto his lap. Straddling his large thighs, I tug at his shirt, needing every inch of him on display. He eases out of the tee, his hands instantly cradling my jawas soon asthey're free. His lips melt against mine, their soft warmth both dizzying and heart-wrenching as he kisses me.The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makesa lump form in my throat.
With his sweet hold on my face, he pulls back a few inches, his eyes searching mine and making me feel wholly exposed. This closeness, this passion, is a vulnerability I wouldnormallyshy away from. It makes my heart pound in fear, but I wantso badlyto be brave for Eamon. If he's brave enough to look up at me like this, his expression so plain and open, he deserves that kind of honesty back. He's so beautiful right now, even more so than usual, the soft, pleading expression on his face almost bringing me to tears.
"Tell me that you're mine," he finally says, staring at me as if I hold the answers to the universe.As ifI could save him from the demons that plague him if I just give him this.
A lump forms in my throat, the words sticking, "Eamon, I-"
"I don't care that it isn't true." He sadly smiles, one of his hands drifting down over my shoulder to my hand, lifting my palm to rest against his cheek. Eyes closed, he leans into the soft touch, pleading with me to let myself be honest with us both, at least this once.He's even given me an out,offered the barrier of itpossibly being untrue to protect me from it. "Just tell me once so that I can go on existing, living in this beautiful lie."
My heart aches; the need to give him this while I still can is more important than any fear surrounding it. "I'm yours, Eamon. No matter what happens next."
Before he can respond and say something that makes leaving even harder, I kiss him again, trying to convey all the things I feel but can't say into the kiss, pressing my body to his to soak up every bit of him I can.
His hands traverse my skin, the closest thingto worshipI've ever felt.For the first time, there's a reverence in his touch as he eases me out of my dress, his fingertips ghosting along every bared inch of skin. His lips follow the trail along my shoulder, down my arm, kissing every fingertipwhilehis other hand gently releases me from my bra.
"I need you," I confess plainly, sighing as he laves his tongue over my collarbone. "Please."
He nods, his lips working back up my neck until they meet mine again. His tongue slides languidly against mine, making me moan into this kiss.
"I got you, baby," he whispers against my mouth beforetaking it again. "I'll take such good care of you."
The double meaning in his words makes my head spin. I already know he'll take care of me like this, the endless pleasure he's capable of, the unbelievable orgasms. But letting someonetake care ofme in other ways is a terrifying,wonderfulthought. What would it be like to let someone care for me? Someone as magnificent as Eamon? I can't even imagine, honestly.Hopefully, when this is all over, there will be time to find out.
I lift onto my knees just enough so he can free himself from his jeans and underwear, never taking his lips off of mine as his hard length escapes, settling against his stomach. With thesmallestsmirk against my lips, he rips my underwear, reminding me that no matter how tender and sweet he's being, the demon is always just under the surface, waiting to be unleashed. A surprised moan escapes my mouth, and he drinksit down, groaning when he finds my soaking wet center with his fingers.
"Isla," he moans, "You're so unbelievably perfect. Always so ready for me."
His fingers drifting across my opening and clit pull needy mewls from my throat, his dirty mouth running even when he's being so loving and tender, building the desperation inside me. He draws small circles on my clit while his mouth works down my neck, sucking and licking the skin there until I'm a panting mess.
But I don't want to fall apart anywhere but wrapped around him tonight. I reach one of my hands between us, gripping the base of him and positioning it right at my core, rubbing his head against the opening to soak him in my slick.
A choked moan escapes him from my boldness, his hand stopping its deft ministrations and landing on my hip to give me complete control. He pulls away from my throat, his heavy eyes landing between us where our bodies are about to join, his expression completely unguarded. Brows furrowed, jaw hanging slightly open, cheeks red, eyes clouding with red in the corners. His beauty is otherworldly, ethereal, and terrifying.
And he's mine.
For however long I'm lucky enough to have him.
Slowly, I sink myself onto him, the stretch as intense as always, making me gasp as I adjust to his size. He groans loudly, his eyes slipping closed as his head falls back against the couch. His hands flex from the effort of staying still while I seat myself fully on him, rocking back and forth languidly.
I gently grab his face, pulling him back to me as I ride him, the fullness forcing quiet moans out of me with every motion. I need to see his gorgeous face and watch him unravel with me. His hooded gaze meets mine, vulnerable and soft, long lashesflutteringwhilehe tries to focus on anything but how my body wraps so perfectly around his.
He grits his teeth, a growl slipping out. "Isla— fuck— baby, you feel incredible."
"Yeah?"
His brows pinch together so firmly he looks almost pained, a quiet little whimper slipping out while I slide up and down on his length. He nods frantically, his fingers digging into me. "I'm tryingso hardto stay still and let you ride me cuz you feel so damn good. But— fucking hell—oh, god,yeah, just like that."
I pick up the pace just a little, riding and grinding, letting my clit rub against him with every stroke. I can see in his face how difficult it is to sit and let me take what I want, how badly he wants to take over and fuck up into me. One of his hands moves from my waist to my nipple, gently pinching and rolling it between his thumb and finger. The soft touch sends waves of pleasure between my legs, adding to the sensation of him filling me over and over.
I moan his name, my hand buried in his hair to keep his face locked against mine so I can see every reaction. Desperate moans and groans pour like endless praise out of his mouth, mumbling my name while his eyes roll back into his head before he fights to focus them on me again. "You're so good. So fucking perfect. You'reeverything—everythingto me."
The words I've hoped to hear from anyone for years fall from his mouth like an edict and prayer. My body and heart both threaten to shatter, my orgasm rapidly approaching while my eyes water from his emotional confession.
"Eamon," I whimper his name, fighting to stay present instead of letting my head destroy this moment.
