And I don’t fucking care. I hope they heard. “I want everyone to know you’re mine,” I growl into her ear as I thrust into her. “Your body is mine, this pussy is mine, your fucking orgasms aremineuntil I say otherwise. Until you do what you promised. You takemycum and no one else’s, and I swear to fucking god, Saoirse, if you let Niall break that, I’ll fucking kill him with my own two hands. You’re free whenIsay you are—fuck!”
Her pussy clenches around me rhythmically, even as she glares over her shoulder at me angrily, betraying her. She wants me to think she’s pissed, that she hates me for this, but her ass is arching back into me with every thrust, her pussy gripping me so tightly that I can barely see straight, my cock nothing but inches of hard, throbbing, ecstatic pleasure. “I’m going to fuck you raw,” I snarl in her ear. “I’m going to fill you so fucking full—oh god, yes—”
I feel her come. Her back arches, her nails scratching against the door as I hold her wrists in my grasp, her pussy tightening around me until I can’t even pull out, only rock deeper into her. “Fuck you,” she hisses, but it’s a breathless gasp of pleasure as she comes hard on my cock, and I laugh.
“You fucking love this. I think you make me angry and jealous on purpose, just so I’ll fuck you like this. You fight with me and curse at me and rile me up so I’ll hate fuck you on any surface I can get my hands on you near—”
Saoirse gasps, twisting as I plunge into her again, feeling my balls tighten as I hover at the edge of orgasmic bliss.
“You hate me?” she whispers, and the sound of her voice is so thoroughly broken on those last two words that I know, down to my bones, that she’s not faking it.
She sounds so hurt, so betrayed, that if I weren’t already on the verge of climax, my cock pulsing with it, I might have lost my erection. But instead, I just freeze, rocking forward on my toes as I burst inside of her, my cum filling her pussy in an explosion of pleasure that’s only dimmed by the way I felt her sag, all the tension and lust gone in an instant.
I lean into her, feeling my cock throb, moaning as I release into her again and again. Then I slip free, catching a glimpse of my cum streaking the folds of her pussy and her inner thighs as she tears away from me, turning with her back to the door as her skirt falls back down.
“You hate me,” she whispers, and it’s not a question this time. “I don’t need to ask why. But—”
Her voice shakes, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears, and my chest clenches as I realize for the first time that maybe—just maybe I’ve been all wrong about Saoirse.
That maybe the glimpses of feeling I’ve caught from her have been real and not a game to manipulate me.
“You need to figure your shit out,” she hisses from between clenched teeth, and I feel myself tense again, anger simmering at the tone of her voice, that she dares to speak to me like that. My hurt pride flares and I glare at her, but she doesn’t stop talking.
“I can handle a husband who doesn’t love me,” she says, her voice cracking. “I can handle a husband who sleeps with other women, who is my husband in name only. I can handle a marriage of convenience. It’s not exactly out of the ordinary in our world. That’s why I agreed to it. I knew I could handle it. But what I can’tfuckinghandle, Connor McGregor, is the fucking hot and cold.”
She glares right back at me, her chin trembling, but her voice full of fierce venom. “I know I asked for our honeymoon. And now I know it was a fucking mistake because I was stupid enough to think that I might get to see a different side of you and thought that I did. But it was all a lie. Just you patronizing me. I see that now. You don’t trust me, you won’t let me help you, won’t let me be the wife and partner that I know I can be, even without love and desire, and god knows you won’t give me those. I can’t fucking handle feeling wanted and then being thrown away. I can’t handle you telling me all you want is a hole to put a baby in and then fucking me like you’re going to die if you don’t get your cock in me the next second, playing sex games with me to get me to come for you like my orgasms keep you alive. It’s been that way the whole time, not just in Japan, so you can’t blame it on me asking for that when you’ve been behaving like this the whole time.”
Her chin tips up defiantly, her green eyes flashing. “So fucking figure it out, Connor. Either you want me, or you don’t. Either this is rote sex to get pregnant, or it’s not. Fucking pick one before you touch me again.”
I want to reach for her. I want to tell her that maybe I’ve made a mistake, that perhaps I’ve mistrusted her when I shouldn’t, that maybe sheiswhat I need. That despite how hard I’ve fought it, she is absolutely what Iwant. That I feel like if she goes to another man, it’s going to break something inside of me.
I want to tell her that I can’t say any of it because I’m clinging on to my self-worth, my knowledge of who I am, by a thread, and I’m afraid of being weak. I’m scared of losing myself to her, of forgetting who I am and why I left in the first place.
But before I can say any of it, she’s turned on her heel and stalked to the bedroom, angry and silent.
And even I can admit the reason I don’t go after her is because I’m too goddamned proud. Because I’ve never begged a woman to forgive me. I’ve never asked a woman to love me. I’ve fucked them and left them my entire life, and I’d never planned on anything else.
Most of all, Saoirse McGregor is the last woman in the world I could ever see myself begging or asking for anything. Not now—and not ever.
So I let her go.
And I hate myself for it.
---
I feel wound tight, frustrated, and angry with myself and with Saoirse and the whole goddamned situation. There’s only one way I know of to release some of that tension other than sex—which is clearly off the table at the moment. I’ve managed to fuck Saoirse through all sorts of moods, but I think if I went after her right now, she’d probably bite my dick off.
The worst part of it is that Icanunderstand her anger, to an extent. Things haven’t been clear with us. I’ve insisted on one thing and behaved in a different way altogether because I can’t seem to control my desire around her.
Well, I can control it this time.I want to go after her, toss her onto the bed and rage-fuck the tension out of us both. Instead, I grab my gym bag from the living room and text Jacob as I head out the door, telling him to meet me at the gym in fifteen minutes. My intention is to get Saoirse out of my head for a little while, but as I go down to the car, all I can hear is her sweet, teasing voice as we sat by the onsen, telling me that she would never have noticed I’d been too busy to go to the gym lately.
Is this just what being married is?It feels as if she’s worked her way into my life, my head, under my skin so completely that everything makes me think of her. It feels like I can’t escape her, no matter what I do.
Jacob is waiting for me when I get to the gym, and I change into shorts and a plain loose t-shirt, wrapping my hands. He’s already in the ring, working through some shadow boxing moves, and he grins as he sees me walking toward him.
“Let’s fuckin’ go!” he calls out eagerly, and even in my current mood, I manage to crack a smile as I duck under the edge of the ring and join him.
Jacob has been my sparring partner for years now, my equal in strength and skill in the boxing ring, and I always get an excellent workout whenever we fight. The ring has always been a calming space for me, a place to work out aggression and tension that has nowhere else to go, but I haven’t been back since returning to Boston. As soon as I step into the ring, it’s easy enough to remember why.