The door slams shut behind us, the sound sharp, like the last thread of restraint snapping. My heart is already pounding, a heavy thud in my chest as I reach for Aoife. My hands find her waist, and I lift her.
She wraps her legs around me instantly, thighs squeezing my hips, the heat of her pressing right against me through our clothes. I kiss her hard, tasting the faint sweetness, her lips soft and begging me to kiss her more. Our teeth click once, awkwardly, and she makes a small sound against my mouth which shoots straight through me.
I carry her a short distance to the bed, the floorboards creaking under my boots. When I lower her onto the bed, she bounces lightly and lets out a breathless laugh, soft, a little nervous, a little delighted. It hits me low in the gut; I yank my T-shirt over my head. She sits up just enough to pull her own top off, fingers fumbling at the hem.
We don’t talk about how wrong this was. The knowledge hangs there anyway, thick in the air between us, mixing with the scent of rain drifting in from the open window and the faint trace of her perfume, something light and floral that makes my head spin.
She pushes up on her elbows, eyes wide and dark, breathing fast. I gently nudge her back against the pillows with a soft exhale. My hands slide to her hips, thumbs brushing the waistband of her jeans as I tug her closer. I lean down and kiss her again slower now, deeper. Her breath hitches when I nip her bottom lip, and the sound goes right to my cock.
Her knees part under me, I trail my palms down the insides of her thighs, trembling slightly and spreading her wider. The scent of her arousal hits me then, warm and intimate, musky-sweet, making my mouth water. I press a kiss to the crease of her thigh, then higher, feeling her stomach quiver under my lips. When I look up, she’s watching me, lips parted, chest rising and falling in quick little pants.
I lower my head and lick her, and she gasps, hips twitching toward my mouth before she could stop herself. Her taste blooms on my tongue, and I groan against her, the vibration making her whimper. I circle her clit lightly with the tip of my tongue, teasing, then sucking gently. Her fingers in my hair, not pulling yet, just gripping like she needs an anchor.
I flatten my tongue; her thighs start to tremble around my ears. When she tries to close them, instinct, overwhelm, I easethem open again with my hands, thumbs pressing into the soft muscle.
“Stay with me,” I murmur, voice rough, lips brushing her as I speak.
She doesn’t answer with words. Her hips rock in tiny, helpless jerks, chasing the pressure. I lick faster, suck harder and feel her swell under my mouth. Her breathing turns ragged, little broken moans slipping out every time I hit that perfect spot. When the shaking starts in earnest, I hook my arms under her thighs, palms cupping her ass, and pulling her tighter against my face.
Her whole body bows off the bed. “Matteo—” My name tears out of her. Her fingers yank hard in my hair, nails scraping my scalp in a way that stings just right. She comes with a long, raw moan that vibrates through me, pulsing around my tongue in waves. I keep going, soft now, steady, kissing her through the aftershocks until her grip loosens and her hips finally still. She tastes even sweeter after, slick and warm.
I crawl up her body, pressing kisses to the sweat-damp skin of her stomach, the underside of one breast. I take her nipple between my lips, slowly sucking, then a light graze of teeth. She arches, a soft whine in her throat. I move to the other, sucking deeper, biting just enough to make her gasp. Her nails rake down my back, sharp trails of heat that make me hiss against her skin.
My cock throbs, pressed hard against her thigh. When her hand wraps around me, I groan into her neck, hips jerking forward involuntarily. She guides me to her entrance, slick and ready, and I push in slow, one long, careful slide.
“Fuck,” I breathe, the word barely audible.
We stay like that for a heartbeat, breathing each other, then I start to move. Shallow rolls at first, grinding deep, savoring the drag of her around me. Her legs hook around my waist, heelsdigging into my lower back, urging me closer. The rhythm builds faster, harder. Her moans turn breathy, desperate, mine come out as low curses against her collarbone. I find the angle that makes her gasp loud, and I stay there, driving into her until she trembles beneath me.
I pull out, flip her gently onto her stomach. She pushes her hips up without prompting, knees spreading. I fumble for the condom in my jeans pocket. Then I slid back inside in one smooth stroke. The new angle is tighter, deeper, she moans into the pillow, muffled but wrecked. I grip her hips, thumbs in the dimples above her ass, and thrust hard. Her body rocks forward with each snap, I reach around, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples until she whimpers again.
Leaning over her, my chest to her back, I put my mouth to her ear. “You feel so fucking good,” I rasp, voice shot. She reaches back, fingers digging into my thigh like she’s holding on for dear life.
When I feel her start to tighten again, I pull out, turn her over so I can see her face, hair wild across the pillow, lips swollen and red, eyes glassy with need. I slide back in slowly, watching every flicker across her expression. She pulls me down, kisses me messy and deep.
Her nails score my shoulders, sharp, claiming. When she comes this time it’s louder than before. My name whispers like a plea, I bury my face in her neck, groaning her name rough and broken, hips jerking as I come hard, pulsing inside her.
We collapse together, panting, slick with sweat. I pull out carefully, deal with the condom, dropping it somewhere on the floor. Then I roll onto my back and tug her against me. She curls into my side, leg thrown over mine, cheek on my chest—her heartbeat thumping against my ribs like an echo of mine.
Her fingers trace lazy circles on my stomach. I catch her hand, bring it to my lips, kiss her knuckles. She lifts her head, eyes soft and sleepy, a little uncertain still.
I brush the damp hair from her face. “Not done with you yet,” I murmur. “Just… catching my breath.”
She smiles, small, real, a little shy, and settles back against me.
Chapter 22
Aoife
The first thing I register is his arm, heavy and warm, claiming me like I belong.
The second is the quiet in my chest. No regret.
The bed’s a wreck, sheets twisted the air is thick with sex and smoke. I’m still in his T-shirt, his hand on my thigh like he forgot to stop touching me.
I don’t want him to move.
“You look better in my shirt,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, breath warm against my ear.
