Page 51 of Fighting for Irish
“Good girl.” Positioning his hands under her thighs, he angled her pelvis up toward his mouth. He used his thumbs on the outside of her lips and spread her open to his view. The catch with her keeping her eyes on him was that he wasn’t required to do the same. He could look his fill wherever he wanted, and apparently right then what he wanted to see was right in front of him.
Kat had spent a lifetime feeling vulnerable, but this was a different kind of vulnerable. It didn’t frighten her or make her wish for superpowers to escape it. The vulnerability Irish made her feel was one of excitement and wonder. Everything with him was new and thrilling with an edge of apprehension for the unknown.
But now, as she lay naked in the most vulnerable position imaginable, the edge of apprehension was more of a cliff and she was dangling by her fingertips. Would it feel good? Would he like doing it to her? What if she reacted wrong or didn’t like it? Would he be disappointed? The uncertainty of it all was almost too much to bear.
Looking down her body, she watched as he placed kisses on the inside of her left thigh and trailed them down until he was inches from her center, then he repeated it on the right. From this vantage point, all she saw was his mussed black hair and tanned muscular shoulders covered with the beautiful art of his tattoos. To see so much power between her legs was intimidating.
He paused, hovering over her slick flesh as though committing every detail to memory…
Or maybe unwilling to go any further…A fluttering of nerves and insecurity kicked up in her belly. “Irish?”
“You’re so beautiful.” Peering up at her, he gave her a firm reminder. “Eyes stay on me.”
He lowered his head and held her gaze as he licked one fold and then the other. She forgot to breathe. Feeling the wet heat from his tongue while watching the act was a carnal combination that shot fire through her center.
She expected his next move to go right up the middle, but he stayed at the top, where his tongue probed and flicked the sensitive bud nestled there. Her hips jerked, and she felt a rush of warmth in her center. Using the flats of his hands, Irish opened her completely. Hunger flashed in the deep blue of his eyes, then he dipped his head and lapped up every drop her body spilled before tonguing her opening like a man starved.
Her body writhed on the mattress as though possessed, but his mouth never broke contact. Sensations, indescribable to her inexperienced body, filtered through her in waves that grew more intense with each passing second. She had to fight to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head when he pushed two fingers inside her and sucked on her clit in pulses he timed with every thrust.
Vibrations hummed in her extremities—her fingers and toes and at the roots of her hair—then rushed in toward her center, gathering strength. Was a second time even possible? This was insane. It was—was—
“Oh-God-oh-God-Ohhhhh!”
Every muscle in her body seized while the blood rushed through her at warp speeds. The inner walls of her channel convulsed involuntarily, ticking off the seconds it took for the euphoria to ebb little by little.
Irish kissed his way up her body until his hips were cradled between her legs and his forearms held most of his weight on either side of her head. Despite feeling short of breath, Kat fused her mouth to his.
Breathing was now a luxury.
Kissing him had become necessity.
Slow and sultry, they explored each other as though for the first time. Her hands framing his face, their heads moving from side to side to center. Lifting her heavy lids, she found herself gazing into the fathomless blue of his eyes. The connection between them hummed in her veins and sank deep in her bones.
Kat slipped her hands down his neck, trailed them over his chest. She fingered his nipple piercings, causing him to suck in a breath and the tendons in his neck to stand out. Watching such a visceral reaction on him from something she did bolstered her confidence. But could she bring herself to use it?
Making a decision, she reached for the button on his jeans. He stopped kissing her and stared. She wished to hell her hands weren’t shaking. It made it damn hard to strip Irish properly, not to mention convince him that this was something she truly wanted. Leave it to her to make a bumbling fool of herself while laying naked in front of the first man she’d ever wanted.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “God, I’m so bad at this.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I don’t know how to be sexy. I can’t even get your pants undone.”
“Look at me.” She did. “The fact that you don’t know how incredibly sexy you are makes you that much sexier. And don’t worry about getting my pants undone. I’ve been doing it for years, and I’m more than willing to help out.”
His crooked smile was contagious. “My hero,” she said.
Irish pushed himself up to his feet and unbuttoned his fly. The glow of the neon bathed his body in light and shadows. From this vantage point, he appeared even more massive. A giant looming over her with blue lightning in his eyes.
He dragged his zipper down. She held her breath and listened to it cut through each of its teeth holding back her ultimate reward. Finally, his thumbs hooked the top and pushed them down and off completely, taking with them the boxer briefs underneath. When he straightened, the breath she’d been holding took advantage of her shock and made a break for it.
While he retrieved a condom from his wallet and did his thing, she studied his impressive size and briefly panicked about him fitting. She already felt so tight and swollen. As he lowered himself between her legs again, the concern must have shown on her face.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
“At the risk of inflating your ego to mammoth proportions…”
“I like where this is going,” he said.
