‘Careful, Cillian, you’re ruining your divorce-enforcer reputation.’ He finds the top of my stockings and brushes over the lace.
‘No, I’d have to smile for that to happen. And my smiles are rarer than an eclipse.’
‘I noticed.’
‘This makes me happy though.’ He taps the lace part of the hold-ups. ‘Even if I don’t show it.’
My eyes fall to the significant bulge in his crotch. ‘Oh, you’re showing it alright, just not with your mouth.’
‘I’m about to though.’ His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that should emit actual steam. He drops to his knees on the carpet in front me, sliding the coffee table back to give himself more room. Nudging himself between my legs, he parts them to accommodate his beautiful body, hitching my dress higher at an agonisingly slow pace. ‘Let’s have a look what you’re hiding under here tonight.’
The lace band of the hold-ups come into view. I watch as he drinks me in with a low hiss of approval. ‘So fucking sexy, Ava. Did you put these on for me?’
‘Would it make you happy if I said I did?’
‘Very.’ He growls, inching the cashmere higher until it’s rumpled around my waist and the lace panties I picked up in Brown Thomas are on full display.
‘These look amazing on you.’ He tugs them down with an appreciative moan. ‘But they’d look so much better on my floor.’ He slides the lingerie over the stockings, slipping them off, and into the pocket of his suit pants. ‘These are mine now.’
It’s not a request.
He stares appraisingly at me down there. ‘That’s better. So pretty. Tomorrow, at Huxley Castle, I expect to find you in this same state, okay?’
‘Knickerless and spread out on the living room couch?’
‘There goes that smart mouth again, Ava. Let’s see if I can quieten you once and for all.’ His face dips to the most intimate part of me and he offers a long slow lick that has me salivating for more. ‘Divine.’ He mutters and continues to torture me in the most hedonistic way with that expert tongue.
He’s too good. It’s too much. My thighs shake and shudder beneath the huge hands that pin them in place. ‘Cillian,’ I whisper.
His chuckle vibrates against my sex, and he works me harder, swirling maddening strokes around my clit until I explode on his tongue in a burst of flashing fireworks and rippling, paralysing waves of pleasure.
He rocks back on his knees, still fixated on my pulsing pussy. ‘I have been dreaming of doing that all day.’
‘Funny, it’s not what you put on your sign-up form.’
‘Well, I didn't want the women of Dublin beating my front door down.’ He slips a finger inside and my head rolls back against the couch. ‘I see your smart mouth has recovered. Let’s see how you recover from this.’
He pumps me with his fingers, working me where I’m already so sensitive. I’m drowning in my own arousal.
‘Not so smart now, are you?’
Another orgasm builds in my core. He adds another finger and swipes his thumb through my folds. The man is seriously talented. If he ever decides to give up his day job, he could definitely moonlight as a porn star.
His fingers slow to a stop and he stares at me. ‘What are you going to wear under your dress tomorrow night Ava?’ The glint in his eyes is pure wicked devilment.
‘Whatever you want me to wear.’ I pant.
‘Wrong answer.’ He pumps me once and stops again.
‘Nothing.’ I cry.
‘Good girl.’ He works me until I reach the next delicious starry oblivion.
ChapterTwenty-Four
CILLIAN
I could play with Ava Jackson all night long, and all damn day too. The way her body responds to my touch is like it’s made for me. Which is a very dangerous thought for this divorce lawyer to entertain.
