Something in my chest tears open, raw and bleeding. No one's ever called me that. Dangerous, aye. Brutal, a right bastard—but beautiful?
Her hands span my chest. “I love you,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “I love you.” She says it like she's just discovered it, and I love the way her smile lights up her whole face.
I kiss her again, softer this time—kissing her like I can claim her with the press of my mouth against hers. My hands find the hem of the worn jumper of mine she wears—too big, roomy, but she loves it. I pull it over her head and toss it aside.
She wears a simple white bra, nothing fancy, but she's the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen.
“You're the beautiful one,” I tell her, trailing my fingers along the edge of the lace. “Just look at you. Bloody perfect.”
“I'm not?—”
“You are.” I silence her protest with another kiss, my hands working the clasp of her bra before I lower it and cup her arse. “Go way outta that talk,” I warn her, my voice dropping low. “Don't let me hear you say otherwise again.” She knows she'll go over my lap for a good, hard spanking, therealkind, if she does.
She bites her lip and nods. “Okay.”
I laugh, then pull back to look at her properly. Erin and her “okays” will never not make me laugh.
Christ, but she's stunning. All soft curves and flushed skin, her nipples tight and begging for my mouth.
“Cavin.” She tries to cover herself, suddenly shy.
“Don't you fucking dare.” I catch her wrists and pin them to her sides. “Let me look at you. Let me see what's mine.”
She shivers, but doesn't fight. Just watches me with those big eyes as I take my time, memorizing every inch of her.
“I like what I see. So fucking beautiful,” I murmur, leaning down to take one nipple in my mouth.
She gasps, her back arching, hands flying into my hair, knocking that hat askew. I pull back with a grin. “Careful, love. You made that for me. You wouldn't want to ruin it now, would you?”
She smiles and reaches up to straighten the hat on my head, giving me full access to her breasts. I cup them, running my fingers along thesides and my thumbs over each hardened pink peak. She shivers as her fingers linger.
“Tell me you love me again.”
“I love you, Cavin McCarthy.”
I capture her mouth again, one hand sliding between her thighs. I find her already wet through her knickers, and when I press my thumb against the damp fabric, she moans.
“Please,” she whimpers, grinding against my hand.
“Please what?” I tease, rubbing slow circles that make her squirm.
“Touch me properly. Pull the damn knickers aside.”
“I know what you need, love.” I hook my fingers and pull them down, helping her lift her hips. “I always know what you need, don't I?”
I slide one finger inside her tight, wet heat, then two, curling them just right. She cries out, her hands gripping my shoulders hard enough to leave marks, and Christ, I hope they bruise. I want her marks on me.
“Oh, sweetJaysus,” she curses.
“Let yourself go, darlin’. Mmm, that's my lass. That's my good girl,” I murmur against her neck. “Let me hear you enjoy yourself.”
She's so tight, so warm, clenching around my fingers as I work her slowly. My thumb finds her clit, and she lets out a half sob, her body trembling. “Oh, that feels so fucking good.”
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, so wet I can feel it dripping down my hand. “That's it, love. You're soaked for me, aren't you? Absolutely dripping. Good girl,” I say approvingly. “But not yet.”
I slow my movements, keeping her right on the edge. “You'll not come till I'm inside you.”
“Please, Cavin.”
