It’s divine.
Lawrence stops his assault, his fingers still inside me, and stares at me. Before I have a chance to speak, he pulls his hand out of me and cups my cheek, his fingers wet with my essence. I lift my face as he lowers his and just like that our lips touch once again. Something basic in me, something primal makes me lift my hands and tangle my fingers in his hair, bringing him closer to me. Our open-mouthed kiss turns hungry and then it turns into a desperate fight for air, where the source of such relief can only be found in the other. Urgently, thinking of Ronan but desperately wanting—needing—the man in front of me, my hands go to his belt and I unbuckle him.
I push my hand inside his boxer briefs covering his cock with my hand, pumping its length and feeling it throb for me. “So hard …”
Take me to your bedroom,” I whisper between hungry kisses.
He picks me up by the ass and I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding myself on his cock, feeling the way it swells for me, the way my body instantly ignites for him.
“No. Fuck the bedroom—I want you now,” he hisses. He walks us to the wooden table sitting in the middle of the foyer. Without giving it a second thought, he pushes the grand and extremely expensive looking crystal vase off the table with the back of his hand so he can place me on it instead. I hear glass shattering as it smashes on the floor, the smell of roses rising like steam.
I glance toward the floor. “Oh no …”
“Shh, it doesn’t matter.” Lawrence grabs my chin, making me look at him, and quiets me with another kiss that I feel all the way to the tip of my toes. His touch a dark paradise, he palms my tits savagely and surprises me by ripping the front of my dress down to my belly button, baring my breasts to him. Laughing as euphoria runs through my veins, I grab him by the hips, spread my legs wider to make room for him, and pull him closer to me.
Hardness against softness.
Purgatory of my soul. Heaven of my flesh.
“Put your cock in me,” I moan, tilting my head back as Lawrence begins to shower my neck with deep kisses that feel like small heartbeats on my skin, reviving my body with his mouth. Urgently, I take his dick out of his underwear while he pulls the scrap of lace covering my wet * to the side and sinks into me in one smooth and deep thrust. I gasp. He groans. And then we get lost in the cursed and prohibited pagan dance of our bodies.
Lawrence closes his eyes and lowers his head against my chest, moving his hips furiously. The harder he thrusts, the easier it is to forget him. The easier it is to pretend that this is what I want.
This is need.
This is cruelty.
This is hunger.
This is total obliteration.
Matching him thrust for thrust, I feel an earthquake of sensation about to shake my body from the inside out. My ears ringing and my core vibrating, I don’t think I can hold on much longer.
“Oh shit, Lawrence … I-I’m … oh fuck,” I groan.
“Touch yourself. Rub your * for me,” he whispers, looking down to where we’re joined.
Intoxicated with lust, I lean back on my elbow, offering myself to him as I slip my hand between us. And while I watch the intoxicating visual of his glistening cock pumping in and out of me, I spread my lips open with two of my fingers and begin to rub my clit in circles. I moan as the tempo of my touch grows faster … furious … merciless … making me even wetter than I already am.
“Fuck … Blaire,” he breathes, increasing the speed of his thrusts. His cock becomes a blur as it leaves and enters me over and over and over again, bringing me closer to the skies.
Our bodies soar in ecstasy with the power of our orgasm, climaxing together. We stare at each other, his eyes a bright bonfire as the frenzy of our hearts slows down and our labored breathing goes back to normal. With his hardness still pulsing inside of me, Lawrence brushes the hair stuck to my cheek. “You make hell feel like heaven, Blaire.”
For a brief moment, a veil is removed from Lawrence’s eyes and I’m able to see a sliver of his soul—beautiful yet so full of naked yearning and pain that it takes my breath away. It shakes me to the core.
Before I have a chance to reply, he pulls out and takes a step back, his soul hidden behind a cool and calculating gaze once more.
He extends his hand, offering me help. “Let’s go upstairs and get clean.”
I stand, look down, and notice the sorry state of my dress. “My poor Versace,” I say, meeting his gaze and smiling. “At least it died a good death.”
As I watch him walking next to me, my body trembling from satisfaction and my mind confused by our exchange, I realize that he never answered my question regarding Ronan.