I moaned into the kiss, tasting him, and pressed myself against him. “Do whatever you want with it. You own me.”
He shuddered and kept kneading my ass, his fingers slipping between. “Back to bed,” he murmured huskily. “It’s been too long since I buried my tongue inside you, and you’re making Daddy needy.”
Sweet fucking Jesus.
I made Daddy needy on the flight to Dublin too, so he decided he had to take me in the first-class bathroom.
It wasn’t much larger than the ones in economy, but my man liked a tight fit.
“You have to be quiet, my love,” he breathed against my neck.
I was fucking trying! But he felt so goddamn good pounding into me. I had one foot up on the toilet, I was gripping the sink with one hand and stroking my cock with the other, and I had his fingers in my brain. He was everywhere. In the air, on my taste buds, in my heart, in my mind, deep inside my ass—every breath, his delicious scent, every whispered command.
“You know I’ll never let you go, right?” He nipped at my earlobe. “You’re all mine, Kellan. All fucking mine.”
I clenched down and tried to stifle my groan, but the pleasure struck so hard and unexpectedly.
“Close,” I managed to choke out.
He grabbed my jaw in a tight grip and made me lock eyes with him in the mirror.
“I want to see you when you come,” he said, out of breath. “Push out that tight little ass for me.”
I obeyed and pushed back with every thrust he delivered, and I watched through hooded eyes how the pleasure overtook him too. He was so fucking sexy when he came. All man, all power, all passion.
I lost it and started coming all over the sink, and it took every ounce of my willpower to keep from getting loud.
“That’s it, my filthy boy,” he groaned. “Squeeze my cock.”
“Hnngh.”
If he wanted me to be quiet, he couldn’t fucking say things like that.
I bit down on nothing and screwed my eyes shut, riding out the last of the climax, and Shan sank his teeth into my neck, muffling his own sounds.
Thank fuck it was a late flight and many were using the time to sleep.
There was no way I could walk out of here and look…unfucked.
“You’re not wearing the gloves I gave you,” Shan noted with a pinch between his brows. “Aren’t you cold?”
Road salt crunched under my shoes, and I pulled up my knitted scarf some more. Dublin had greeted us with sleet last night, and this late morning in Killarney was no better. Snow mingled with rain. “Fucking freezing. But if I wear the gloves, they’ll hide that other thing you gave me.” AKA, my new timepiece. And yeah, it was an exclusive watch, stunning as hell, a perfect birthday present, but it was the inscription on the back that made me want everyone to get a look at it.
I could admit I’d been mushy after reading it.
And so, time was of the essence again. Love, Shan
I would literally murder to keep this watch safe.
Not to mention suffer cold hands in the windy, brutal Irish winter.
Shannon wasn’t too pleased with my logic, but he let it go as Finnegan’s apartment building came into view. Our car service had dropped us outside a store so we could pick up some essentials, and then it was only a few minutes’ walk to the town center.
Killarney was where our souls belonged. A small town containing all our family history, our origin, tales of our most gruesome battles, memories of drunken singing down the cobblestone streets, and well-preserved buildings that were hundreds of years old. The little stone house Finnegan had bought was one of them, and he’d turned the apartments into guest rooms and studios for visiting family members.
I wanted to squeeze Shan’s hand and say that maybe we could stay at my house next time, but… One, we had too much family around for me to be able to hold his hand in public, and two, I had no way of knowing when he’d be ready to make our relationship official to others.
It didn’t make any sense for us to stay there now either. It would look weird. The house my grandparents had left for Luna and me was outside the town, with nothing but green hills and sheep for neighbors. Finnegan bringing us all together in Killarney to celebrate Christmas obviously meant he wanted us nearby, especially his own dad.
Several cars were parked outside the house.
Emilia and Luna had been busy, throwing out the dead flowers from the wooden boxes underneath each window and replacing them with spruce-like shrubs and red bows. A Christmas wreath hung on the door too, and there were dimly lit lamps in the windows. The wrought-iron sign above the door that read “Anno 1813” had been repainted black to stand out better against the old stone façade.