This time, I break our kiss because I need oxygen. The shower water isn’t helping me find it, but I think we need it. The curtain of water feels like a barrier between us and the real world, and Tadhg needs that right now to be able to let himself go and ask for what he really wants.
When I look him in the eyes, he seems lost. But hungry. And whenever I try to pull back, even a fraction, he holds me tighter. Like he’s desperate to keep me close.
His hips grind up into mine again, even as he searches my face for some kind of reaction. His mouth is open, still panting softly, and I can see that no words are coming to him any time soon.
He looks almost innocent. Which doesn’t make sense, considering I came in here to wash off the blood of a man he beat, or tortured, orsomethinged, but still. In this particular way, I guess he is innocent.
And scared.
I can’t let him doubt me.
“You’re so good, Tadhg,” I whisper, running my thumb along his swollen lower lip, collecting all the water droplets that have gathered there. “You’re so good and you don’t even know it.”
He shudders in my arms, and I can see the words taking hold of him in a way I haven’t been able to before.
He grinds up into me again. Not hard, just instinctive. Needy. Desperate, almost.
It lights a fire in me.
I’d burn the world down for him on a random Tuesday as it is, but it doesn’t help that right now he’s flicking every kink switch I have about getting a big, strong man looking vulnerable and submissive on his knees for me.
The part of my brain that had Tadhg categorized as “brother” is officially offline. The rest of me—who eats guys like him for breakfast—takes one look at him and sees a needy slut.
There has to be a middle ground. As long as I don’t let him get in his head.
“You’remygood boy, Tadhg.” Another shudder. “Does my good boy need to come?”
His breath stutters. He hesitates, like he’s not sure if this is a trick.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, you can come. You can have anything you want. You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Slowly, he nods, holding my gaze the entire time.
When his hips buck up again, it’s more deliberate. I shuffle back, getting my knees on the ground and giving him more space to move. Tadhg follows, like always, still holding me close,until we’re both on our knees, pressed together from sternum to pelvis, his hard, aching cock sliding against the declivity of my hip.
His movements are a little hesitant, so I kiss him again as a distraction. It works, and soon he’s grinding against my hip steadily, working himself against my skin.
In between kisses, I continue to whisper, telling him how good he is and how much he deserves this. He never speaks, but he continues to clutch me to him like he never wants to let me go.
When I move my hands down to palm his ass, I can feel the muscles work as he ruts into me. I want to let him continue controlling the movements, which is why I don’t try to escalate this into anything more. But I can’t help myself when I reach between us and stroke my fingertips over the leaking head of his cock just once.
He fucking whimpers. He whimpers like a good, needy boy, and I kiss him again as a reward.
“That’s it, Tadhg. You’re doing so well. Make a mess all over me, go on. You deserve this.”
When he stiffens, he holds me so tight to him I can barely breath. I feel every movement of his cock as it pulses and twitches, spilling warmth between our bodies. I feel the way his chest heaves and his body continues to shudder as it works itself through the orgasm, and I hold him tight through it all.
I’ve been hard for fuck knows how long, but I ignore it. I can take care of that later. This isn’t about me.
This is about Tadhg finally letting himself go, even if it’s just for a second. And if I have any say in what happens next, it won’t be the end of it. This is just the fucking beginning.
Chapter Nineteen
Savage
Ican’t breathe. This isn’t a new feeling for me, but the circumstances definitely are. My chest is heaving while my body tries to find anything to latch onto so it can straighten itself out after the most dizzying orgasm I’ve ever had. I’m distracted, so it takes me a minute to notice that Micah is still looking at me like I’m a bomb, and he’s trying to figure out if he cut the right color wire.
I’m also trembling, but I don’t know whether to blame that on the orgasm, the fact that my mind is blown into a thousand disparate pieces, or the shower water that’s finally beginning to run cold.
