Fighting for Irish (Fighting for Love, #3)

“Eyes stay open and on me,” he ordered.

With the flat of his tongue, he lapped at her nipple, reveling in the way her breath hitched and her pelvis rocked against his hard stomach. He circled it a few times, then sucked it into his mouth, watching her face as the pleasure replaced the frustration. Experimenting, he nipped the side of her breast. She moaned.

He wasn’t a shrink, but until he saw otherwise, his theory seemed to hold water. And, holy shit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.

Sliding lower, he kissed his way down her soft belly until he reached her bare mound. He stood corrected. That was the hottest thing ever. Tearing his eyes away, he glanced up and made sure she was still following the plan. “You still with me, kitten?”



You still with me, kitten?

His voice rasped over her senses, the low and throaty sound causing shivers to race up her spine. That simple phrase made her knees weak every time he said it.

Kat answered with a nod, but then remembered the speaking rule and offered a timid “yes.” She’d never been more “with” anyone in her life. Irish made her more aware of her body than she ever thought possible. Until him, it had just been a vessel. A shell to walk around in and use as a tool for basic survival.

But the first time he touched her, she’d felt a zing of electricity that breathed life into her cells after years of dormancy.

“Good girl.” Positioning his hands under her thighs, he angled her pelvis up toward his mouth. He used his thumbs on the outside of her lips and spread her open to his view. The catch with her keeping her eyes on him was that he wasn’t required to do the same. He could look his fill wherever he wanted, and apparently right then what he wanted to see was right in front of him.

Kat had spent a lifetime feeling vulnerable, but this was a different kind of vulnerable. It didn’t frighten her or make her wish for superpowers to escape it. The vulnerability Irish made her feel was one of excitement and wonder. Everything with him was new and thrilling with an edge of apprehension for the unknown.

But now, as she lay naked in the most vulnerable position imaginable, the edge of apprehension was more of a cliff and she was dangling by her fingertips. Would it feel good? Would he like doing it to her? What if she reacted wrong or didn’t like it? Would he be disappointed? The uncertainty of it all was almost too much to bear.

Looking down her body, she watched as he placed kisses on the inside of her left thigh and trailed them down until he was inches from her center, then he repeated it on the right. From this vantage point, all she saw was his mussed black hair and tanned muscular shoulders covered with the beautiful art of his tattoos. To see so much power between her legs was intimidating.

He paused, hovering over her slick flesh as though committing every detail to memory…

Or maybe unwilling to go any further… A fluttering of nerves and insecurity kicked up in her belly. “Irish?”

“You’re so beautiful.” Peering up at her, he gave her a firm reminder. “Eyes stay on me.”

He lowered his head and held her gaze as he licked one fold and then the other. She forgot to breathe. Feeling the wet heat from his tongue while watching the act was a carnal combination that shot fire through her center.

She expected his next move to go right up the middle, but he stayed at the top, where his tongue probed and flicked the sensitive bud nestled there. Her hips jerked, and she felt a rush of warmth in her center. Using the flats of his hands, Irish opened her completely. Hunger flashed in the deep blue of his eyes, then he dipped his head and lapped up every drop her body spilled before tonguing her opening like a man starved.

Her body writhed on the mattress as though possessed, but his mouth never broke contact. Sensations, indescribable to her inexperienced body, filtered through her in waves that grew more intense with each passing second. She had to fight to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head when he pushed two fingers inside her and sucked on her clit in pulses he timed with every thrust.

Vibrations hummed in her extremities—her fingers and toes and at the roots of her hair—then rushed in toward her center, gathering strength. Was a second time even possible? This was insane. It was—was—

“Oh-God-oh-God-Ohhhhh!”

Every muscle in her body seized while the blood rushed through her at warp speeds. The inner walls of her channel convulsed involuntarily, ticking off the seconds it took for the euphoria to ebb little by little.

Irish kissed his way up her body until his hips were cradled between her legs and his forearms held most of his weight on either side of her head. Despite feeling short of breath, Kat fused her mouth to his.

Breathing was now a luxury.

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