Fighting the urge to cover myself from his heated gaze, I slide my legs up the bed, the see-through lacy material falling to my crotch, exposing more of my legs. Seamus’s eyes follow the movement, and he licks his lips.
That’s a good sign. I arch my back, thrusting my tits into the air, my eyes barely open as I stretch. I’m enjoying tormenting him because he clearly likes what he’s seeing.
My mouth dries up, and I’m starting to regret my little game. Seamus drops the covers down at my feet and strips himself entirely naked before I even realize what he’s doing.
I’m frozen, my eyes staring at his huge dick. That’s going to hurt. I know it is. I’m way too small for that thing. It will tear me in half.
The bed dips as he lowers himself beside me, my breathing hitching as his fingertips touch the inside of my knee and slide up my leg, pressing my thighs apart as he leaves a trail of heated flesh where he’s touched me.
My eyes are locked on his throat, unable to move up to meet his. I know I talked a big game about having a mind-blowing orgasm, but I’ve never had a one-night stand before. I’ve never gone to bed with a stranger, and now I am. And he’s my husband.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, his fingers brushing against my wet folds. I didn’t bother about putting on panties because going into today, I had been left with no uncertainty that Seamus Fitzpatrick would have to consummate this marriage tonight.
“Feck, ye’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, a slight Irish brogue coloring his tone.
My cheeks heat up. Yeah, I am. How embarrassing. I wish the bathroom light weren’t shining over both of us. I would bewaymore comfortable in the dark. His fingers part my folds, and two slide inside me. Oh god, that feels good.
“And ye’re so fecking tight.”
Well, hearing that is hotter than I thought it would be. You know what? Maybe I can ask him to turn off the light. I’d rather he can’t see me. I snap my thighs together, provoking a low growl from him. Using his other hand, he pushes my legs apart, moving to place his body between my thighs so I can’t close them again.
His fingers are now roughly pumping in and out of me – god, it feels so good – his other hand snags my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. Surprisingly, his touch at my chin is gentler than Ant’s was the other week when he grabbed my face. I would not have picked that.
“This pussy belongs to me. Ye don’t ever deny me it again. Ye hear?”
There’s an edge of menace in his tone that has me squirming. I blame his long, plunging fingers. Even with Ant – the asshole – I’ve always been treated like a breakable, priceless piece of art, there for someone to take their pleasure, not to give me any. But this…I can’t help but be helplessly turned on by the ruthlessorderin his tone.
“Answer me,” he snaps. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
As turned on as I am right now, a surge of resentment spikes through me. I hate that Seamus treating me like an object he owns turns me on. I’m embarrassed that I’m enjoying how he talks to me and getting wetter. That my body is relishing being dominated like this.
Red stains my cheeks, but I will the blush to go away. I refuse to let him see how it affects me. Howheaffects me. I don’t want to be just another woman who melts at the sound of his Irish brogue. I want to be special, even if that’s a pipe dream. I want him toworkfor this. For him to want to get me off.
“That’s right.” His voice is low now, gravelly with need. “And don’t ye be forgetting it.”
His fingers disappear as he positions his dick at my entrance, rubbing the tip through my folds, soaking it in my juices.
“Ye’re a little slut for me, aren’t ye?”
I whimper at his words, refusing to speak in agreement. I’m not calling myself that, no matter how sexy he is. It doesn’t matter that I don’t agree. He doesn’t need to hear it.
He uses his grip on my chin to nod my head, which seems to be enough for him, groaning as he sinks into me.
My breath catches as my body stretches to accommodate him. I’m wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, thank god. But when he’s buried himself to the hilt, I feel stuffed full almost to the point of discomfort.
“So fecking tight,” he groans again, bringing his hard body down on top of mine.
Seamus tugs down the cups of my nightgown, freeing my breasts. His wet mouth closes around one of my nipples right as his fingers painfully pinch the other one. I swallow my whimper, jerking beneath him, thrusting my breasts up.
“I think I will enjoy this,” he murmurs against my breast. “I get to fuck ye whenever I feel like it.”
I want to squirm at his wondrous tone, so different from the cold one he has been using since we met earlier today. I open my mouth to agree, probably breathlessly like every other woman he’s taken to bed, but that’s not what comes out.
When I reply, I sound like a stranger to my own ears, a thread of steel in my tone.
“Yes, but I won’t enjoy it.”