Beautifully Cruel

43

When I moan deliriously, he takes my mouth again, swallowing the sound. Every time I exhale, he breathes it in. He f***s me so hard it’s like he wants to crawl inside me. Like he wants to break me apart.

Like he’s breaking apart, and the only thing that can save him is surrender.

I hook my ankles behind his back and let him take me like he needs to, burying my face in his neck as he drives us toward the end that aches inside us, the peak of that mountain we first set foot on long ago, the moment he stepped inside Buddy’s Diner’s door.

“Tru.” He groans, shuddering.

He’s close, but I’m closer.

With a small cry, I’m over the edge again, convulsing around him, bucking wildly as pleasure consumes me. I open my mouth and suck hard on the pulse pounding in the side of his neck, scraping my teeth against his skin and clawing at his back as he groans.

The rhythm of his hips falters. “f**k. You’re coming. I can feel you coming—”

He breaks off with a low, broken moan and holds himself motionless and rigid above me.

I continue to writhe underneath him, rocking my hips, f*****g myself onto his beautiful hard c**k, giving myself over to the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt. I use his body shamelessly as he tries to hold back, his arms shaking, low moans working from his throat.

My orgasm goes on and on, spinning out into eternity. I’m lost in it, tumbling under every crashing wave, drowning in him and loving every second.

The moment the convulsions slow to a stop and I relax under him, Liam rasps, “Give me your mouth. Now.”

He slides out of me, rolls to his back, and grips his stiff c**k in his hand. I quickly climb over him and take him in my mouth. As soon as my lips slide over the wet, engorged crown, he sucks in a hard breath and curses.

I open my throat and slide him all the way down. His groan forms the shape of my name.

Then he spills himself inside my mouth, throbbing against my tongue, his entire body jerking.

“Take it all, baby,” he rasps. He squeezes a hot, shaking hand around my throat. “Take every last drop of me.” He breaks off into garbled Gaelic.

I swallow, then do it again, my lips stretched tight around his girth as he thrusts up into my mouth.

With a final shudder, he falls still, spent. His chest rises and falls with his ragged breath.

I slowly slide him out of my mouth and lick my lips. After a moment, he exhales. He lifts his head and looks at me, still holding his jutting c**k in my fist.

Without a word, I climb off him, retrieve Ellie’s shredded dress from the bedroom floor, and wrap it around my naked body. My head held high, I turn around and walk out.

The sound of Liam’s low laughter follows me as I go.

17

LIAM

I

find her in one of the guest suites, curled up on top of the bed in the fetal position in the dark.

She’s wrapped in the fur throw taken from the chair near the fireplace. I know she

didn’t want to crawl under the covers, because that would be a commitment to staying. To falling asleep and being vulnerable.

As if she’d ever be vulnerable when she was with me. As if I wouldn’t kill anyone who dared to even give her the wrong kind of look.

I try to gather her into my arms to pick her up, but she rolls to her other side, avoiding me.

I say firmly, “If you’re under this roof, you’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be under this roof.”

Her voice is quiet and steady. Irritation flares inside my chest. I don’t bother with more conversation because I know it will only be an argument. I simply pull her back to the edge of the bed and pick her up.

She mutters, “This is ridiculous.”

But she doesn’t fight. She hides her face in the crook of my neck and lets me carry her back into my bedroom, silent and sleepy, her body lush and warm against my chest.

When I set her down on the bed, she curls into a ball again and peeks up at me from under the edge of the fur throw. I know she’s trying to look mad, but a woman’s eyes are never as soft as when she’s looking at the man who just made her come.

My lips curve. With a faint sense of surprise, I realize I’m smiling.

Loosening my tie as I gaze down at her, I say, “You screamed my name.”

She rolls her eyes, then squeezes them shut. She mutters, “The ego on you.” “Both times.”

“Anytime you’d like to stop talking, it would be great.”

I pull my tie over my head and drop it to the floor. Then I shrug out of my suit jacket, tossing it aside. I kick off my shoes and discard my belt. As I’m unbuttoning my shirt, Tru opens her eyes again.

She watches me as I pull off my shirt and let it fall from my fingertips to lie on top of the jacket.

Then she bites her lip and her eyes go wide.

I stand unmoving and allow her to look at my bare chest. The light is low in the room, but there’s enough of it for her to see everything.

The tattoos. The muscles.

The scars.