Page 18 of Dangerously
Our pleasured moans and gasps and grunts become entangled, the two of us centered on the same plane.
“Oh, God . . . Ronan, fuck, yes . . . yes, yes, yes!” I cry out as he hits my spot over and over again. I explode all over him like a popped water balloon, saturating us both with a surge of arousal.
He can barely speak as his pleasure holds him hostage. I can see everything he’s feeling on his strained, chiseled face though. In the tight lines and bulging veins in his neck. He loves being inside me.And that’s my power. It will be my only edge in this proposed partnership, and I’ll use it to my advantage just like I’m doing right now.
I contract my pussy, strangling his cock, and he finally combusts.
One singular bellow escapes his lips as he comes. A tortured, anguished sound that vibrates through his whole body as he shudders and thrusts until there’s nothing left inside him.
Ronan rests his head in the curve of my neck as he catches his breath. We’re both spent, and sweaty, and completely sated.
When he finally lifts his head, he clutches my face with one hand. It’s a firm, commanding grip. “I don’t care what it takes. But mark my words, you’re going to be all fucking mine.” There is an absolution to his declaration. Not many people frighten me, but Ronan does.
Instead of revealing my true concerns, I bat my eyelashes and purr softy.
“Fuck me like that again, and I might consider your offer.”
“You might not have a choice.” Ronan withdraws from me, pulls up his dress pants, and puts himself back together. Grabbing me unexpectedly, he throws me over his shoulder and smacks one of my naked ass cheeks. The crack rings out all around my kitchen.Youch!
“Enough talking.” He marches off toward my bedroom. “I want that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock for the rest of the night.”
* * *
I wakeup stiff and still soaking wet. Ronan wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted my pretty mouth wrapped around his cock for the rest of night. I sucked him off more times than I can count.
He is a brutal lover. Demanding. Taxing. At times, merciless. Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t all bad. I got off plenty of times, too, but last night was a glimpse of what being Ronan Kennedy’s other half would be like.
I’m not sure I want the job.
I like my freedom too much, and I’m unsure how much of that he will afford me. He says he wants a queen. Someone to rule by his side, but I wonder if a man like Ronan is capable of sharing power. He’s the last son remaining from an empire of crime. He’s been bred to lead, to command, to rule. He’s the tip of the pyramid. Would there really be room for two on such a tiny summit?
I roll over to find Ronan already up and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed fiddling with his cuff.
“I don’t even get breakfast?” I stretch, my muscles screaming from the workout last night. “I feel gipped.”
He turns to look at me, his cunning brown eyes glinting in the morning sun.
“Unfortunately, no. I have to be back in Boston by this afternoon.” He doesn’t seem apologetic. “Work and all. Have to show a strong front or else the rats will try to take over the ship.”
“That would be bad.”
“Very.” He leans over to kiss me. “It’s also why I want you. You’ll be a critical part of my image and my foundation.” Ronan combs his fingers through a chunk of my tousled copper hair.
“You make it sound so romantic,” I hum.
He smiles, and it’s a mix of so many things. Of deceit and intrigue and dark amusement.
“You want romantic?” He arches an eyebrow. “I can be romantic.”
“You proved that last night,” I allude to his spontaneous candlelight dinner.
“I was just getting warmed up.” His arrogance is incorrigible. He steals another quick kiss and then sits up. He grabs an envelope off my nightstand and tosses it in front of me.
“What’s this?” I question of course.
“A job,” he relays clinically.
“You didn’t have to come all the way to New York to give me this. You could have just gone through March.”
