Page 52 of The Captive
The last threads of my self-control snapped. I grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand while the other traced the delicate line of her throat. Her pulse raced beneath my fingertips—proof that she wasn't as composed as she often pretended to be.
"Do you have any idea," I said, voice dropping to a dangerous register, "what I've imagined doing to you since that night?"
Her pupils dilated, eyes darkening from cool jade to almost black. "Show me."
I released her wrists to cup her face, my touch gentle now. For a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other—and this simple act terrified me more than anything Beatrice could devise.
"Last chance to walk away, Aoife," I warned once more, offering an escape neither of us wanted.
Her answer was to curl her fingers into the front of my shirt, yanking me to her until our bodies aligned perfectly. "I'm not going anywhere."
I claimed her mouth with bruising intensity, swallowing her gasp of surprise. She tasted so sweet, her tongue meeting mine with equal fervour. I pressed her harder against the wall, one thigh sliding between hers, providing delicious friction where she needed it most.
"Fuck," she moaned, hips rocking against my leg in shameless need. "I've wanted this since I first saw you."
Her words sent a jolt of pure lust through me. "Say that again," I demanded, my grip tightening on her hip.
She smiled against my lips, recognizing her power. "I've wanted you," she repeated, voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "inside me, fucking me until I can't remember my own name."
Christ. The filth from those lush lips was more arousing than it had any right to be. "Keep talking," I ordered, my hands finding the buttons of her blouse.
"I touched myself thinking about you," she confessed as I pushed the fabric from her shoulders. "After that night at the gala. Imagined it was your fingers inside me, your mouth on my clit."
I nearly tore her bra in my haste to remove it. "And did you come?" I asked, palming her perfect breasts, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples.
"So hard I saw stars." She arched into my touch, shameless in her desire. "But it was never enough. I needed the real thing."
I lowered my head, taking one sensitive bud into my mouth. She gasped, fingers tightening in my hair as I sucked and laved, alternating between gentle and rough until she was writhing against me.
"I owe you something," I murmured against her flushed skin, moving to her other breast.
"What's that?" She gasped as I scraped my teeth across her nipple.
"Completion." My hands worked at the fastening of her jeans, pushing them down her long legs. "Last time we were together, I brought you to the edge over and over, but never let you fall."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, quickly replaced by heat as she stood before me in nothing but black lace panties. I dropped to my knees, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her underwear and slowly dragging them down.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," I said, my voice rough with wanting. Her thighs were already slick with arousal, her scent making my cock throb painfully against my zipper.
"Alexander," she breathed, one hand tangling in my hair.
I caught her wrist, pinning it to her side. "Tell me what you want."
Her eyes flashed with that defiant O'Malley fire. "I want your mouth on me."
"Where?" I teased, pressing kisses along her inner thigh, deliberately avoiding where she needed me most.
"My cunt," she said, the crude word from those refined lips making my cock jump. "I want your tongue inside me, your mouth on my clit, until I come all over your face."
Jesus Christ. I hadn't expected this—Aoife O'Malley, dirty-talking temptress. "Keep talking like that," I growled, lifting oneof her legs over my shoulder, "and I'll give you exactly what you want."
"You like it when I talk dirty?" She smiled down at me, a predator recognizing a weakness. "You want to hear how wet you make me? How I can't wait to feel your cock stretching me open?"
I answered by burying my face between her thighs, licking a long, deliberate stroke through her folds. She cried out, hips bucking against my mouth as I set a relentless pace.
"Yes," she hissed, nails scraping my scalp. "Fuck, your tongue feels so good."
I doubled my efforts, alternating between circling her clit and dipping into her entrance. Her thighs began to tremble, the taste of her arousal flooding my senses as I worked her toward release.
