He feels so good, almost too big but blissfully so, sinking into me again and again, grinding down so that he presses against my clit with every thrust. I’m on the edge again when he suddenly grabs me, rolling us both over so that I’m atop him, gasping with surprise as he sits me down on his cock.
“Ride me, Saoirse,” he groans, and in other circumstances I might have been afraid to, because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. But Connor is drunk, and pretending that it’s not even him, and right now—I just don’t care.
I want pleasure, and to give it to him in return. I scratch my nails down his chest as I start to roll my hips, mimicking what I think he wants me to do, sliding up and down on the rigid length of his cock, and from his groans I think I’m succeeding. His hands are tight on my hips, his face a taut mask of pleasure, and I gasp as his fingers find their way between my thighs again, teasing my clit as I find my rhythm.
“Saoirse—” he groans my name, bucking upwards, and I feel the waves of pleasure rippling over me again, my thighs tensing, each stroke of his cock intensifying it, and I throw my head back, crying out as it crashes over me, making me feel as if I’m coming apart at the seams.
Connor pushes himself up, his arms going around me as he pulls me closer, my legs locked around him as I ride him in his lap, the two of us rocking together now. “I’m going to come in you, princess,” he groans, his hand in my hair as he kisses me again, and I nod breathlessly, grinding down on him as I arch my back, wanting all of him, all of this, forever.
I can pretend, just for tonight.
He clutches me to him, moving to his knees as he holds me, laying me back with my legs around his waist so that he’s thrusting down into me, looking at my face wildly as his muscles tense. “I’m going to come, Saoirse,fuck, I’m going to fucking—”
I feel it, the heat of him as he surges into me, his cum flooding me, pleasure rippling over me as I watch him buck and groan with the ecstasy of it, and I’m only the tiniest bit regretful because it means it’s over. I want to start all over again, to have more of him like this, and as he surges inside of me, I feel the ache in my heart again, watching my gorgeous husband lose himself with me.
Connor slumps forward, tracing my cheek with his fingers as he shudders, the last drops of his cum pulsing from his cock. “God, that was fucking incredible—” he slurs, reaching for me and pulling me into his arms as his cock slips out of me, both of us half-cuddling, half-slumped against the side of the couch as we try to catch our breath.
Somehow we manage to pull ourselves up onto the couch, still naked, arms wrapped around each other as I half-lie on top of him. I let myself enjoy the moment, his warmth against me, even though I know it can’t last.
“I wish it could always be this way,” I whisper, and a moment later, I hear a soft snore.
I look up to see my husband asleep, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he breathes.
Part of me wants to wake him up and bring him to bed with me, but I don’t. Instead I pry myself away from the warm, broad chest and reach for the blanket on the back of the couch, covering him up as I stand and gather our clothes.
I take one last look at him as I walk down the hall into our bedroom, and then I slip inside, closing the door.
19
CONNOR
When I wake, it’s naked on the couch with a splitting headache and no memory of anything after I left the restaurant. I groan, pushing myself upright as the blanket puddles around my hips, only to hear the bedroom door open a few moments later and the sound of Saoirse’s feet padding down the hall.
She’s fully dressed in jeans and a sleeveless silk top, her red hair pulled back away from her face, sapphire earrings dangling from her ears and pointed black flats on her feet. I let my gaze drift over her from her head to her toes and back up again, feeling the old irritation seep in. I vaguely remember her not being home when I got back—or maybe I dreamed that. I can’t be sure, but she looks brighter and more awake than I do, and I resent her for it.
“What happened last night?” I ask gruffly, gesturing at my nakedness and the couch where I slept. Saoirse’s eyes flick to my chest, and I see her flush a little, her cheeks pinkening.
“You came home very drunk,” she says finally. “We had a small argument, and then you—you changed a little. You wanted me. We—well, we had sex. Passionate, hot, different sex,” she says, almost as a defiant afterthought. “Not the way you—have been lately.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask sharply. “What did I do that was sodifferent?” I mimic her tone mockingly, and I see her flinch a little.
“Well you—went down on me—everywhere,” she says, flushing even more. “You wanted me to call you William. You didn’t hold anything back, and I—” She pauses. “We didn’t hold anything back,” Saoirse says softly, and there’s something oddly sad in her voice.
I snort. “You’re telling me that my Irish princess let me lick her asshole? And that I asked you to call me William? You’re making this shit up.” I shake my head, standing up and letting the blanket fall to the floor, not missing how Saoirse’s gaze instantly flicks to my cock before she recovers and looks back up at me.
“I hope I at least came in your pussy, so that wasn’t a wasted fuck,” I growl at her, striding past towards the bedroom so I can take a shower before I need to be at the warehouse. I see Saoirse’s eyes flash as I pass, and I can tell she’s angry again, but I don’t stop.
“Well, I must have really fucked William Davies last night, then!” Saoirse yells after me, and a moment later I hear the front door slam, the apartment falling silent.
Did I really do all that last night?It’s not beyond the realm of imagining, although I really do hope I had the presence of mind to at least finish where it could be of some use.
The rest of the morning doesn’t prove to be any less irritating. I hate the idea that I might have lost an entire night, that I said and did things with no memory of them—with Saoirse, no less. She’s by far the last person that I want to have anything to hold over my head, and if I did half the things she insinuated—
I might really have let her see how much I want her. Worse still, I might have given her some inkling of the feelings I’m trying to fight.
I’m in no mood to deal with tedious things like shipments and handling paperwork, but I never passed on the menial work and hard labor to my men back in London just because I didn’tfeel like it, and I’m not about to begin now. By the time I get to the warehouse, Jacob and the other men are already hard at work moving crates, and I walk towards him, intent on putting the stress of the morning behind me.
Jacob’s grim face tells me something else is up, though.