And I need her to choose me.
The other option doesn’t bear contemplating.
My tongue circles her sweet, dripping sex, and she jerks and exhales a low guttural moan. ‘You’re going to kill me.’
I halt my tongue just long enough to answer her. ‘No, baby, I’m bringing you back to life.’
Her fingernails rake over my scalp. ‘No man has ever treated me this way before. Worshipped my body like you do.’
‘More fool them, Savannah.’ My tongue swirls around her clit as the blood rushes there again. I slip a finger inside her core. ‘If you were mine, I’d worship this body every fucking day for the rest of my life.’
I’m testing her. I know I am. Willing her to say the words I’ve willed from her lips so many times over so many months.
She doesn’t disappoint me. ‘I’m yours, Ronan. Whether I want to be or not. I’m yours. You have me.’
I tilt my head upwards to meet her eyes, my tongue still swirling circles around that beautiful, sensitive bud. ‘Good girl,’ I murmur, before sucking her until she screams into her fist.
When I finally slide my throbbing cock into Savannah’s slick centre, it takes everything I have not to blow there and then. It’s not just the sensation of her body sliding beneath mine, or the tight walls of her taut perfect core, it’s the knowledge that she is finally mine.
Mine.
The woman I’ve wanted for years.
And it sends me spiralling into my own decadent oblivion.
Chapter Thirty-One
SAVANNAH
Ronan’s been sneaking into my bed every evening for over two weeks now and sneaking out again before the girls wake up. He’s cooked dinner almost every night and ordered in pizza the past two Fridays. I’m almost on top of my work, for once, thanks to his help entertaining the girls.
But there’s still one thing I haven’t been able to manage - the synopsis for the new parenting book, much to Cassandra’s dismay.
How can I write another book on parenting alone while I have a man taking care of my kids every evening, and taking care of me too? It’s utterly hypocritical. The words just won’t come.
How can I parade around the country with my glossy new hardback preaching about balancing work and life as a single mother, when truthfully, I’m not one anymore?
Granted, Ronan and I aren’t married, so on paper, I am still technically single. But the idea of marriage doesn’t seem as ridiculous as it did this time last year.
That childhood dream of me in a white dress might not be over yet.
My career would be though.
Half of me worries I’m rushing into this relationship, but the other half is so high on the hit of endorphins that I don’t care.
Getting involved with a man was never on my agenda. Getting involved with a former manwhore was never on my agenda.
Yet, we’re together.
That night I told him I was his. It seemed like role play at the time, but the truth is, I was his from the moment I met him. I felt the attraction the second I laid eyes on him, which is probably why I was so hard on him. Offence is the best form of defence, right? And I’ve been defending my heart since Finn fucking Reilly shattered it seven years ago.
The girls are at school and I’m supposed to be preparing a speech for a ladies’ charity lunch in aid of the Irish Single Parents’ Society in a few weeks. Instead, I’m lounging on the luxurious day bed in my back garden in the skimpiest bikini I own, with Ronan between my legs for the second time today.
Considering I spent almost two years wishing he’d stop moving his mouth in my direction, now I’m grinding against said mouth, unable to get enough of it.
Days like these, I’m eternally grateful for the privacy of the sixteen-foot surrounding fir trees and the half acre between each house on this road.
I scrape my fingers across his scalp and encourage him to slide up my body. ‘I want to come on your cock.’
