I drag my fingers up his neck and pull his face to mine.
“Fuck me like you love me,” I whisper. “Just for tonight.”
Rory stills above me, and there are words on his lips. Words I am afraid to hear. Rejection, confession… either way I won’t handle it well. I stop them from spilling out by smashing my lips onto his.
He’s on me then.
His tongue sweeping into my mouth with a groan while he tastes me. His hand cupping the back of my head and holding me in place while his other hand delves into my panties.
His fingers move inside of me.
He sets the pace slow, and it remains that way until I come. There’s some shuffling on the bed as he removes his jeans and my underthings, and then it’s our naked bodies, pressed together in the darkness.
His mouth is on me when he pushes inside. He is reverent, full of worship, kissing me everywhere. It’s slow, at first.
And we try it like that.
But Rory knows me.
He knows that if I were ever going to be loved, it would need to be hard.
He loves me hard right now.
When my fingers dig into his back, his teeth graze my throat and he slides my leg up to wrap it around his waist.
His next thrust is deeper. Harder.
I reach down and squeeze his ass and arch into him.
He whispers in my ear.
“Ye’re the only woman I’ve ever fucked this way.”
“What way?”
“Raw,” he groans.
And I growl in response. We are animals, consumed by this primal heat between us. Instinct takes over.
Hands grope and squeeze and clutch while our lips and teeth clash against each other. We can’t get enough. The frenzy is all that exists. To get closer. Deeper. Harder.
More, more, more.
We are greedy. And when we come, it is explosive.
When he collapses beside me and buries his face in my chest, he doesn’t say the three little words I dread so much. He says only two.
“Thank you.”
Twenty-Seven
Rory
“Hey, hot stuff,” Mack greets me with a slap on the ass.
I glance across the room at her husband- my boss- and his attention is otherwise distracted, thank fuck.
“Are ye trying to get me fingers cut off?” I ask her.
