“Told you I’ll stop if you don’t keep your hands on the sheets.”
I let go of his mane of hair and slam my hands back on either side of me, panting as if I’ve been running up a hill. “I’ll be good.”
His eyes darken with indecipherable emotions. It’s like the rich brown wants to become black, potent, and wild with fury.
I might not understand the emotion behind the change, but I know something tickled him in some way.
“Repeat that.” He speaks low against my core, and I feel the vibrations on my sensitive skin.
“I-I’ll be good,” I whisper.
That’s all it takes.
He curls his tongue against my hypersensitive clit, and it’s like he never stopped.
It’s like he’s able to throw me over the edge without even trying. It’s my fantasy, and yet he’s smashing it, ruining it, moulding it so it’s almost his, not mine.
And in some way, it’s even better than my original one.
My back snaps upright as he wrenches a strong orgasm from me. Tiny shivers crawl up my spine then explode all over my skin. It’s not my first orgasm, but it feels like it is; it’s stronger and owns me whole.
Just like the one who brought it out of me.
I hide my face in the pillow to erase the sound. It comes out like a muffled shriek, something you’d hear in dark alleys late at night.
I’m still riding my orgasm when a sharp slap hits my pussy. I shriek, my eyes fluttering open. I stare, incredulous, as Ronan’s face emerges from between my legs.
“Why…why did you do that?” I pant through my pain mixed with agonising pleasure.
“Don’t hide your screams again or it won’t just be my palm against your cunt. Let’s try again, and this time, scream.”
He yanks my legs apart, stretching me wide before his lips go back to my swollen clit. He doesn’t even bother with taking it slow. It could be because I’ve never been so turned on in my life, or it could be because of his maddeningly fast pace.
It could be both.
This time, the wave hits me harder and much quicker.
I scream, my head rolling back and my eyes fluttering closed. “Ronan…oh, Ronan...”
“That’s right. Me.” He nips on my tortured clit. “Just me.”
I writhe on the bed, my nails digging into the sheet, unable to keep quiet or still. He’s turning me into someone even I don’t recognise.
“Ronan…”
“What do you want, belle?” He speaks against me, the vibration of his voice turning me delirious. “Maybe you’ll get inspiration after another orgasm.” He licks me from the top to the bottom of my slit, and I shiver. “I still can’t get my fill of you.”
“I-I’m…I’m…”
“What?”
“S-sore.”
“So?” He emerges from between my legs and suggestively licks his lips.
The fact that he’s licking me off him should be repulsive, but it isn’t.
Shit, why isn’t it?