Page 65 of Chains of Recompense
Then she’s grinding forward with her hips, chasing her pleasure as I fuck her hard and fast, driving her into the mattress with each thrust.
It’s intoxicating—no, more like the high of a hardcore drug.
My head swims with the rapturous pleasure of claiming Aisling without mercy.
I want to bury myself so deep inside her that she’ll still feel me in the morning.
I want to own every inch of her body, ruin her for any other man, take possession of all her pleasure until I’m as deeply rooted in her psyche as she is in mine.
Because if tonight has shown me anything, it’s that five years has done nothing to dull my attraction to Aisling Murray.
I need her as hopelessly as I did the first time I laid eyes on her. And that realization is devastating.
That I could be broken by one wickedly tempting woman.
She stole my soul with a single kiss.
And though I’m the one who sent her away, I know now that this power she holds over me is inescapable.
I belong to her—I have since the moment we met.
Which means the vows I made to Genevieve were never mine to give. I’ve been lying to everyone, myself most of all, for years.
The guilt could crush me.
And the anger that follows is no less suffocating.
I hate how completely Aisling has captivated me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t fall to my knees and worship at the altar of her perfection.
I would lie down and die a willing sacrifice to experience the heaven that lies between her thighs.
I can feel her pleasure mounting, hear the climax building in her rapturous cries, and it makes my head swim as all the blood rushes from my brain to swell inside my already painfully hard cock.
“Raf!” Aisling gasps, her long legs wrapping around me, her heels digging into my hips as she urges me deeper inside her, and a moment later, she’s shattering, her walls pulsing around me, her clit fluttering against the base of my cock.
The force with which she comes obliterates my self-control, launching me over the edge, though I’d planned on making this night last far longer.
Slamming inside her to the hilt, I join Aisling in oblivion, pouring hot cum into her depths until she’s so full of my seed that it’s spilling out of her tight entrance.
She keeps milking me, urging me deeper inside her as I throb, our simultaneous orgasms so agonizingly euphoric that stars explode behind my eyelids.
It’s all I can do not to pass out as I grunt and thrust with each powerful surge of pleasure.
Then, I shudder violently as we collapse onto the bed together, utterly spent, our limbs tangled in an impossible snarl.
God, I never knew condemning my soul to hell could feel so divine.
Because there isn’t a shadow of doubt in my mind that sleeping with Aisling was a terrible mistake.
I broke all of my most sacred vows tonight.
And my stomach knots as reality comes crashing back down around me.
I’m despicable.
But between the head trauma I sustained from getting knocked out, the overindulgence in alcohol, and the lack of blood in my brain after my release, I’m too dizzy to think straight—too dizzy to do anything, actually.
Maybe I really should have considered going to the hospital.
