His filthy words leave me speechless, wetness gathering quickly between my legs as he works his mouth slightly closer to my center, almost reaching my knee now. "I am gluttonous for this body," his hand grips my thigh roughly. "I'll never get enough. I'll devour every inch of it again and again until it destroys me."
Biting my thigh, his eyes trained on mine, he continues, "I am greedy for the heat between your thighs. I'll take it over and over until you have nothing left to give me.
"I am envious of any person who ever dared to touch you before I did, and I fear the wrath that I would unleash on this world if anyone else ever does again."
The need between my thighs battles with the weight on my chest from the sincerity in his words. I can't take this kind of closeness. The open way he admits that this is so much bigger than just an itch to scratch.
He must notice the panic growing in my eyes. He knows I can take only so much of his honesty before it causes a shutdown, and the fun we're having will be over. He grins, his mouth dancing dangerously close to my barely covered pussy, "I have been and probably will continue to be very prideful of all the screaming orgasms I get to give you."
I wrack my brain, thinking I only counted six.
I'm so drunk on him, I can't even count in the single digits, lost in his touch and his gaze.
"The one sin I will never commit when it comes to you, Isla, is sloth."There's seven."I will never tire, never waver in my desire to give you everything I can. Starting right now."
And as his lips meet my clothed clit, I can almost ignore the way his words make me feel, almost ignore how tears threaten. Desperately, I try to focus on his actions instead of his words, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to separate us as people from the sex we have.
My mind threatens to wander, to ruin the pleasure already building, even with the fabric between us.
A voice that I swear could be Eamons echoes in my mind, pulling me back to the sensation.
Having Eamon between my thighs and somehow still being able to hear the phantom of his voice is unnerving, but it definitely works.
The imaginary Eamon praises me:Even through this little bit of cloth, I can taste you. Taste how fucking wet you are, how delicious your pussy is.
In reality, Eamon groans against me, tonguing my clit and my opening, teasing me until I can't take it anymore, writhing my hips and silently pleading for him to take the panties off and drive his cock into me until I'm screaming.
Beg for it,the voice tells me, all my senses warped by my mind fighting to stay present even when it wants to panic instead. But the pretend Eamon voice does what it needs to, keeping me wholly involved in the heat growing in my stomach.
I whine and mewl, unable to keep my legs still as the need grows.
With a gentle bit of my clit, Eamon lifts his head, "What do you need, my sweet little sinner?"
"You," I confess, pulling on his head to bring him up to me.
He crawls over me, pressing his whole body against me, the rough sensation of his pristine clothes against all my bare skin driving me wild. I pull roughly at him, wanting to feel any part of his hot body.
But he's not even close to being done torturing me, instead grabbing both of my hands, holding them above my head with one hand, the other holding my jaw in place to keep fucking my mouth with his tongue, grinding me into the bed. The feel of that hard ridge between my legs drives me higher, and I move my hips with him, fighting for the release I need so badly.
No matter how desperately I rub against him, I can't get even close to release, only managing to make myself more frustrated as he teases and holds me in place. My nipples ache, the stiff points rubbing against his shirt with every motion.
Angry, needy moans fall out of my mouth, his body controlling mine so expertly I can't find any kind of relief in the movement.
"Do you need me to fuck you, baby?" he finally says once I'm well past any rational thought, every inch of my body painfully begging for his touch.
I nod, hoping it'll get the message across enough that I don't have to speak the words.
A filthy smirk lifts one side of his mouth as he stares at me.Bastard.
"Say Yes, Father." He nudges my jaw to the side, kissing down my throat, "Or I'll accept Please, Father."
I choke on my embarrassment, "I'm not saying—" Whatever I was going to say gets cut off with a loud yelping moan as he bites me, right where neck and shoulder meet, the one that gets the same reaction each time, turning me into a wanton slut. "Fuck, please?"
His cock drags against my clit as he eases the sting with his tongue, chuckling but not giving in to my plea.
"Please, Eamon. God—fuck,please," I try again.
He shakes his head in the crook of my neck. "You're only making this harder on yourself, Isla. Obviously, I want to fuck you senseless. Make you squeal and leave a fuckingmessall over this bed. You just have to ask nicelyandI'll fill you with this cock so hard and rough the bed slams against the wall almost as loud as you'll be screaming."
