Page 112 of Chains of Recompense
And I’m not wearing a condom, but I refuse to come before I feel her fall apart around me once more.
Aisling moans, the low, sultry sound so painfully sexy, it nearly undoes me, and when I thrust deep, I can feel the wet gush of her climax pouring out around me.
Christ, but she’s captivating.
She ripples along my length, milking my cock as if begging me to spill me seed inside her.
And for one dark, villainous moment, I seriously consider it.
Because if I got her pregnant, I would have an excuse to never let her go.
But I could never do that to her—I would never trap her in a marriage she doesn’t want. No matter how desperately I need her.
I thrust until I can feel the last of her aftershocks subside.
Then, with relief, I plunge deep one more time and jerk back, pulling out of her in one go.
I barely have time to grip my slick shaft and aim before hot ropes of cum are splashing across her belly, painting her soft skin.
It’s far too satisfying to see my mark on her, knowing that she wanted my cock inside her and I’m responsible for the gorgeous flush in her cheeks.
Her legs fall open around me, her eyelids growing heavy with relief, and when she gives a soft, satisfied moan, my cock twitches against my palm.
With a deep sigh, I lean forward to press a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.
Then I rock back off the bed to get a washcloth to clean her up with.
She watches me lazily as I run the damp cloth between her thighs, cleaning her perfect pink pussy before I wipe the cum off her flat stomach.
Then I toss the washcloth into the hamper and help her slip beneath the covers.
Tonight, there’s no space separating us as I join her, pulling her into my arms.
She hums contentedly, snuggling closer to rest her cheek against my shoulder.
“Raf?” she murmurs sleepily after a heartbeat.
God, but I love the way she says my name. “Hmm?” I ask, brushing a silky lock of red hair away from her face.
Her blue eyes peer up at me through thick, dark lashes, innocent and alluring all at once. “What doesfocosamean?”
I chuckle, surprised she would ask now, when she’s never seemed curious before. “It means… fiery. Spirited.”
Her full, pouting lips curve into a soft smile, and her eyes drift closed. “Hmm. I always thought it was an insult.”
I snort, my amusement gently jostling her, and I pull her closer so she can’t move away. “Well, I mean it as a compliment.”
She hums her approval, seeming halfway to sleep already, but her lips hold that delicate upward curve of contentment, making my heart clench.
And I can’t help but stare down at her, studying her striking face, even as her breaths grow steady and she slowly drifts to sleep.
I stay like that for a long time, savoring just how good it feels to hold Aisling in my arms. But as the heat of our passion cools, the familiar sense of guilt and sadness starts to creep in once more.
How selfish can one man get?I wonder.
Here I lie, enjoying the warmth and comfort of a woman I don’t deserve, while Genevieve will never have the opportunity to live her life, to enjoy the pleasures it might bring or chase her dreams.
It makes my chest tight to think of everything that was stolen from her.
