His hungry eyes drop down to my feet as they flash with arousal. He tenderly runs his hands up and down my body in appreciation. It’s been eight weeks, eight long hard weeks without him. I have missed him, every damn inch of him. The feeling of his arms around me as I wake, his body deep inside mine, and the intimacy of our connection. I glance up at the painting one more time and it reminds me that this is not a one sided passing affair. He feels it, too. The whole time we were apart he has spent painting this picture. He has missed me and I feel an overwhelming surge of emotion toward him.
I take his shirt off over his head, undressing all of him slowly until he stands before me, naked and hard. I have to stop myself from purring like a damn Cheshire cat. He is utterly gorgeous. His tall and athletic body calls to me in a way like never before. The scattering of black hair across his chest, the defined stomach and v of muscles on his lower hips that lead to his dark pubic hair. My eyes drop to his large cock that hangs heavily between his legs. I can see every vein on its wide shaft and I’ll be damned if it isn’t the best thing I have ever seen in my life.
For now, this cock is mine. All mine, and fuck, I’m going to put it to good use.
I push him back onto the bed and he falls as he pulls me down on top of him. We laugh as we kiss, both excited for what’s to come. In one quick movement he rolls us so he is above me, and his lips take mine as he slides his length up and down my weeping flesh. Every up stroke makes me hold my breath. It’s been a while and I know he is going to fill me completely. He’s not a small man, but like a magician, he knows how to use his wand perfectly. He grabs my inner thigh and pushes my leg up so it is around his chest. His tongue sweeps through my mouth, his stubble burning my face.
I need him. Now!
As if sensing my desperation, he slides home in one deep thrust and the air is pushed from my lungs.
He stays still as he lets me adjust to his size. He kisses me tenderly and his eyes, his eyes stare into mine, betraying his feelings. I smile into his lips and grab his behind to reassure him I’m ready. He slowly pulls out as his eyes close in pleasure then pushes back in.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.
I stare at the ceiling through glassy eyes. If I could speak, I would say the same thing back, but I can’t. I’m too overwhelmed by the feelings I have for him.
“I can’t live without you,” he breathes into my neck.
I smile and kiss him as I bring my hands to cup his face.
“Less talking and more fucking.” I smile.
He laughs and slams both of my legs above my shoulders before he drives back into me with force. “Tell me you’re staying.” He growls as he pumps me hard.
“I’m staying,” I whisper as my body starts to quiver.
“No matter what?” He pants as his eyes start to roll back in his head and he really picks up the pace until the bed starts to hit the wall with force.
I stay silent as I try to desperately hold off the orgasm. This feels too good.
“Promise me!” he yells.
“I promise,” I whisper.
“No matter what!”
“No matter what,” I cry as I spiral out of control and my body contracts around his with such force, it causes his own body to release and he jerks violently deep within me.
His head drops as he tenderly kisses my shoulder and neck. I smile, and as I look above the bed at myself staring down over us, I feel nothing but love.
Chapter 20
I sit at the kitchen counter watching Alastar prepare our dinner. Thomas is joining us for the Sunday night ritual. “You should have been a chef.”
He nods as he cracks an egg into the bowl. “Maybe.”
“Have you always cooked?”
“Aye.”
I smile dreamily like a star-struck school girl. “Did your mother teach you?”
“My mama.”
I smile. “Who’s that?”
“My Grandmother on my mother’s side loved to cook. I was her favorite so she would always ask me to help her in the kitchen.”
I smile stupidly. Why do I get so excited about every new piece of information I learn about Alastar O’Shea?
He stops what he is doing, throws his tea towel over his shoulder and looks up at me. “Would you like to go to Ireland next weekend and meet my family?”
“Really?”
He smiles warmly as he kisses me gently. “Really.”
Butterflies immediately take flight in my stomach. “If you...” I hesitate.
“If I what?”
I swallow nervously. “I only want to meet your parents if you are serious about this. I don’t want to go up there and play happy families if—”
He cuts me off with a kiss. “If what?”
I shrug and my eyes drop to the floor.
He kisses me gently. “I don’t want to be away from you again.”
The question has been burning in my stomach rises to a head. “Why did you sleep in the corridor of my apartment?” I ask.
He shakes his head in embarrassment and runs his hands through his hair. “The night I made Brielle come and collect you from my house, I felt so terrible.” He pauses.
I stay silent.
“I came over late that night to check on you.” He kisses me again as if to soften the blow.
I stay silent. I hate this memory.
“I could hear you crying and talking to Brielle through the door.”
My head drops in shame. Fuck. I’m a fruit loop.