“God.” My hips churned without volition, screwing my cock into her, pushing me deeper until I was in her to the hilt. I could feel her all around me, from root to tip, clenching in ripples that milked me like a greedy little mouth. “Angel—”
The pressure at the base of my dick was insistent, but I was capable of staving it off. It wasn’t a question of control, but of will.
I wanted to come inside her. Wanted it enough to consider the risk—as terrifying as it was—acceptable.
Closing my eyes, I dropped my forehead to her cheek. I inhaled the scent of her and let go, coming hard, my ass flexing as I filled her up in thick, hot spurts.
Eva whimpered, writhing under me. Her cunt tightened, then trembled around my cock. She climaxed with a soft, sweet moan.
I growled her name, searingly aroused by her orgasm. She came because I did, because my pleasure turned her on as much as my touch. I would reward her for that, show her the depth of my gratitude. She would get hers, over and over again, as many times as she could take it.
“Eva.” I rubbed my damp cheek against hers. “Crossfire.”
Her fingers tightened their grip on mine. Her head turned, her lips seeking.
“Ace,” she breathed into the kiss. “I love you, too.”
IT was shortly after five in the evening when I drove the Bentley through the gates of the Vidal estate in Dutchess County and into the circular drive out front.
“Aw, you drove too fast,” Ireland complained from the backseat. “We’re here already.”
I put the SUV in park and left it idling. One look at the house, and a knot tightened in my gut. Eva reached over, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. I focused on her steely gray eyes instead of the Tudor-style mansion at her back.
She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. I felt her love and support and saw the glimmer of anger in her eyes. Just knowing she understood gave me strength. She knew every dark and dirty secret I had, and yet she believed and loved me anyway.
“I want to stay over again sometime,” Ireland said, poking her head between the two front seats. “It was fun, right?”
I looked at her. “We’ll do it again.”
“Soon?”
“All right.”
Her smile more than made the promise worth what it would cost me in sleep and anxiety. I’d stayed away from her for many reasons, but the main one was that I didn’t know what I could offer her of any value. I’d channeled everything into keeping Vidal Records afloat for her well into the future, taking care of her the only way I knew I wouldn’t screw up.
“You’ll have to help me out,” I told her honestly. “I don’t know how to be a brother. You will probably have to forgive me. Frequently.”
The smile left Ireland’s face, transforming her from a teenager to a young woman. “Well, it’s like being a friend,” she said somberly. “Except you have to remember birthdays and holidays, you have to forgive me for everything, and you should introduce me to all your hot, rich guy friends.”
My brow lifted. “Where’s the part about me picking on you and giving you a hard time?”
“You missed those years,” she shot back. “No do-overs.”
She meant to tease, but the words struck home. I had missed years and I couldn’t get them back.
“You get to pick on her boyfriends instead,” Eva said, “and give them a hard time.”
Our eyes met and I knew she understood exactly what I was thinking. My thumb stroked over her knuckles.
Behind her, the front door opened and my mother stepped out. She stood on the wide top step dressed in a white tunic and matching pants. Her long, dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders. From a distance, she looked so much like Ireland, more of a sister than a parent.
My grip on Eva’s hand tightened.
Ireland sighed and opened her door. “I wish you guys didn’t have to work tomorrow. I mean, what’s the point of being a gazillionaire if you can’t play hooky when you want?”
“If Eva worked with me,” I said, looking at my wife, “we could.”
She stuck her tongue out. “Don’t start.”