“Peyton, manners,” Ronan says sharply but with a loving smile on his face. His little girl gives him a guilty grin, then swallows her mouthful.
“Caramel popcorn is my favourite,” she says again.
“Guess what?” I whisper. “It’s my favourite, too.”
Peyton’s eyes grow wide with amazement. “Really? Daddy likes the salty stuff, but I like this one. Maybe now you’re here he won’t try to make me eat the salty popcorn anymore.”
I fight back a laugh at her obvious distaste for Ronan’s choice of movie snack. He chooses that moment to stretch his arm along the back of the couch, and his hand comes to play with the hair at the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I chance a quick glance over at him to see his eyes locked on me, something indescribable etched across his features. My lips curve up in a smile that he reflects back at me, and something settles inside.
This is good.
At some point, Ronan leaves, but Peyton and I are engrossed in the movie. Then a big pile of fabric lands in my lap.
“You look cold,” he says gruffly.
I slip the sweatshirt over my head, and a wave of Ronan’s scent covers me. Closing my eyes, I subtly lift the collar up to my face and inhale. Peyton’s thankfully unaware, but I sense Ronan shifting on the couch and feel his hand settle down again on the back of my neck, stroking back and forth over the top of his sweater.
By the time the credits roll on the television, Peyton is slumped against me, asleep.
“Let me take her,” Ronan whispers, shifting to stand. I watch this perfect, wonderful, handsome man lift his daughter into his arms with such loving care it makes my heart ache. Both with missing my own father and longing for a family of my own. I’m starting to realize just how much I miss Tori and Cooper. How connected we were and how they were basically my stand-in family. We had many movie nights just like this, sharing snacks and laughter, Coop cuddled into my side when he was younger.
And then they moved. Leaving me here alone.
Standing from the couch, I gather up the bowls and plates from our snacks and carry them into the kitchen. I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t notice Ronan’s return until his strangled whisper has me turning around. And the intensity on his face floors me.
“Damn it, Willow.” He closes the distance between us and cups my face in his large hands. He does that a lot, and I never thought I would love such a possessive, protective gesture as much as I do. But it’s what he says next that shoots straight to my heart. “You’re making me want things I never thought I could have. You, in my sweater, cuddled up with my daughter. Fuck, Cherry. It feels so damn right.”
His voice is rough, laden with emotion, desire at the forefront. His sweatshirt is so big on me, the sleeves drape well past my hands. But they fall back as I wrap my arms around his neck and thread my fingers into his hair so I can guide his head down to meet mine.
I can’t find the words to reply to him, so I let my kiss do the talking. Hoping that it somehow conveys what is in my heart, even though my head hasn’t quite caught up. We lose ourselves in the moment, lips fused together, tongues dancing. His air becomes mine, our hands desperately roaming each other’s bodies, seeking connection anywhere and everywhere we can.
“I need you,” he growls, spinning us around and lifting me up to sit on the counter. “You have to be quiet. Can you do that for me, Cherry? Can you stay silent while I devour you?”
I don’t get a chance to answer before he’s tugging down the hem of my leggings. Lifting me so he can strip me bare, I gasp at the cold marble under my ass. But then Ronan’s pulling me to the edge, one hand pushing my legs wide so he can drop down between them, and the other tangling with mine on the counter.
“Fuck. This pussy is heaven. Absolutely perfect. You’re perfect.” His mouth covers my sex and he sucks my clit hard without any further warning, making me bite back a garbled moan.
“Shh,” he murmurs against my skin, dipping his tongue to stroke up my slit. “Not a sound or I stop.”
A small whimper escapes me when his teeth graze my sensitized skin and he freezes, looking up at me with a devious smirk.
“Sorry,” I whisper, letting him see my smile. “I’ll be quiet.”
He just raises his eyebrows, keeping our gaze connected as he lowers his head back down. This time, when he flattens his tongue and swipes it up to swirl around my clit, I bite my lip to stop from making any noise. I know the risk, Peyton could catch us, but I trust him to know his daughter and know if this is okay or not.
Besides, there’s not a chance in hell I would turn down sex from this man ever again. He’s just as I thought that day at the airport. A veritable god among men. The best lover I’ve ever had. A fact he proves again as he slides two fingers inside my aching pussy, twisting and fluttering them inside of me, driving me wild in an instant. The necessity of silence somehow makes everything even hotter, that tiny hint of danger making my heart race.
“Come on my face, Cherry. Let me feast on this beautiful pussy.”
That’s all it takes. I clap my hand over my mouth to hold back my muffled cries as my body spasms and clenches around his fingers. My hips are writhing around on the cold, hard counter, and Ronan has to hold me in place with one hand as he wrings every last drop of my release from me. When I finally stop shaking with the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had from oral sex, I feel limp and oh, so satisfied.
To my surprise, Ronan picks up my panties and my leggings, and methodically helps me get dressed again, lifting me off the counter. He sneaks in a squeeze of my ass but doesn’t make any move to take things further.
I reach out and cup his very obvious erection pressing against the front of his sweatpants. “Don’t you want to…”
His hand covers mine. “If I fuck you, I won’t want you to leave.” His tone is a mixture of rough arousal and regret. And I know, without a doubt, he’s fighting an internal battle between Ronan, the father and Ronan, the man.
I try to convey how much I understand with my smile, even as I’m dropping to my knees. “Okay. No sex. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you with this situation.” I look up at him as I take the hem of his joggers in hand. His breathing is ragged, his eyes hooded with desire, but he doesn’t stop me as I pull them down over his cock. The second it springs free, he groans softly.
