Page 97 of Illusive
Ronan set the tube down on his lap and caught her camisole hem in both hands. He carefully worked the top upward, slipping it off her uninjured arm and her head, before working down over her elbow brace. His sharp inhale was an abrupt sound in the surrounding quiet. He bit out something in Cajun French that she understood only for the rage it carried.
Looking down, she saw the lavender imprints of her attacker’s fingers on her small breasts. She heard his breathing quicken into harsh inhales and gusting exhales. His nostrils flared as his face flushed.
“Ronan?”
He released a low growl that raised the hairs on her nape. “It’s a terrible thing to have a need to kill a man who’s already gone to hell.”
Ireland leaned toward him and kissed him, a light press of her lips to his. “Don’t think about him. Think about me.”
He took another deep, fast breath. Then he released it in a rush. “Always.”
Ronan kissed her back, as swiftly and as sweetly as she’d kissed him.
Leaning back again, she looked for signs that he was settling down and felt such amazement that she could so thoroughly captivate a man as dazzling as Ronan Boudreaux.
He retrieved the tube and started again, rubbing both hands together to warm the gel. Ireland was breathless with anticipation, her nipples taut and aching. The curves were so slight she scarcely needed a bra, but Ronan worshipped them. No man had ever paid such devoted attention to her breasts. At times, he’d lie beside her for seemingly endless minutes, his head lowered behind the silky curtain of his hair as he laved the tight tips before suckling her with gentle pulls. The memories alone made her pussy slick with desire.
She watched as his hands moved toward her, then her head fell back with a thready moan as his warmed palms cupped her with unbearable gentleness.
Pausing, Ronan asked gruffly, “Am I hurting you?”
“God no,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”
“Cher…” There was a plea in the hoarseness of his voice, but his hands began to move, massaging her with care. “We’re playing a dangerous game.”
Eyeing him with heavy lids, she said, “You’re reminding me that my body doesn’t always feel pain.”
His eyes were hot with hunger as he watched his hands move in circles over her breast. They grew heavy and more tender, the skin flushing as it warmed. He shifted his hips, and her gaze dropped, the ache between her legs intensifying at the sight of his cock straining against the restriction of his pants. She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his incredible hardness.
His groan was a desperate sound. “Ireland. This wasn’t meant to lead us into trouble.”
Wetting her lips with a swipe of her tongue, she stroked his thick length through the cotton. His thumbs and forefingers found her nipples and tugged, creating an echoing pull deep inside her.
She began to pant. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Flushed with lust, his lips reddened and parted, Ronan’s hips surged into her stroking hand. “Moi aussi, sorcière.Too much. I should stop this.”
Worried he would find the will to pull away, her fingers slipped under the hem of his T-shirt and found his waistband. She pushed beneath it, taking his erection in hand. He was already slick at the tip, the plum-sized head slipping easily through her fist.
Ronan’s deep, low growl vibrated up her arm. “We need to stop, Ireland.”
“You told me you fantasize about licking my pussy.”
His face was burnished by lust. “All the time,” he said hoarsely. “In the most inappropriate places. There’s never a moment I don’t want my mouth between your legs.”
Ireland licked her dry lips. “I fantasize, too. But not about that, although I love it. You tongue fuck my pussy so good, Ronan. I love to watch you eat me.”
His hands moved in gentle circles over her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the tight tips. The small curves grew heavier, plumped by his massaging hands.
“Your fantasy?” he asked hoarsely.
She fisted his thick length from root to tip, pumping another surge of precum over her fingers. Releasing him, she lifted her hand to her mouth, slicking her lips before running her hand down her belly. “This.”
His lips were parted for his quickening breaths. “Be more specific.”
“I don’t know if it’s a fantasy or a fetish?” She chewed her lower lip for a second. “I think a fetish is something you have in general, but this is specific to you, so maybe it’s not that.”
“Ireland.” Ronan gave her an amused look. “You’ve just wiped my semen all over yourself. Now you’re feeling awkward talking about it?”
