Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
No one’s ever talked to me like this before. I never thought it would be a turn-on, but coming from Ronan, with that deep, raspy voice, it makes my pulse skitter every time.
My mind snags on his words. He’s been waiting since last night? I hesitate. “Why didn’t you bring a girl home from the bar?”
He frowns. “Did you want me to?”
“No.” Is that wrong to admit?
“Well then …”
“Well then, what?”
“Suck my dick, Ryan.” His hand slips from my jaw around to the back of my head and he pulls me forward.
I resist, even though desire burns hot between my legs. “Say please.”
His brow arches. “Please take my dick in that vicious mouth of yours.”
I oblige, running my tongue along the underside of him. When I glance up, he’s staring down at me with a hard look.
I part my lips. An invitation.
He accepts it, sliding in. I close over him, molding around his shape.
Connor’s voice carries from somewhere in the living room and it must be bothering Ronan, because he flips the switch for the fan, drowning it out.
I’ve never really liked giving head, but it’s different with Ronan. Maybe because our relationship is purely physical, and he turns me on like no other guy I’ve ever been with. I want him to enjoy this as much as I enjoyed him going down on me yesterday. So, I do my best, pushing myself to take him in as deep as I can, until I’m forced to relent or gag. He seems to appreciate it, smoothing loose strands of hair off my forehead gently, sweetly whispering words of encouragement, his hand controlling the tempo. When it starts to speed up, when his breathing starts growing ragged, I know he’s close.
“That’s it.” His hips start thrusting into my mouth and he suddenly swells even more. “Almost there …” His hand closes tight over my hair until it almost hurts.
A stream of warm salty liquid hits the back of my tongue as he orgasms, but aside from one low grunt, he manages to stay quiet.
Ronan spends a moment simply standing there, his breathing heavy, his hooded eyes settled on my face, his fingers stroking my hair. “Thank you.” He takes a step back, tucking himself into his pants. Hitting the fan switch, he pauses to listen.
All I hear is the buzz of the voices on the TV. It sounds like Connor’s off the phone.
“See you later.” Ronan winks and steals a carrot before ducking out.
Did that just happen?
Yes. It did. And I enjoyed it.
I take a moment to study myself in the mirror—my puffy lips, my mussed hair, the smears of black mascara around my eyes—and then I brush my teeth, grab my containers of food, and sneak out to my room.
It’s almost two in the morning when commotion stirs in the living room and female laughter carries. I sit up to listen intently.
Plural female laughter. Ronan’s courtesy must have run out. He’s brought someone home the same day I gave him a blow job in our bathroom.
I flop back into bed, disappointment overwhelming me. It’s followed closely by anger, at Ronan, but mostly at myself for allowing our little charade to continue. I’m not programmed for casual sex. I can’t do it, even with a guy I have no interest in hanging out with outside of what we do in bed.
My pulse hammers in my ears as I lie in the dark, listening to the floor creak in the hallway, his door opening.
Waiting for the inevitable bed-frame thumping to begin.
I stiffen when my bedroom door swings open instead. For a split second, I think it’s another directionally challenged naked drunk girl, but the brief stream of light allows me a glimpse of a naked Ronan instead.
He shuts the door behind him. A moment later, the sheets shift and pull, and then he’s lying down beside me, heat radiating off his body. “I know you’re awake,” he whispers, the sound of his voice stirring my blood. His breath—a mixture of toothpaste and a sweet liquor and tobacco—skates over my face.
“How?”
His hand slides between my legs, his fingers slipping under my panties. “Because you’ve been lying in bed for hours, wondering what I’m doing at the bar, waiting for me to come home.” His finger draws along my slit. “Thinking about me.”
I have been doing that.
But now I shove his hand away. “Don’t you have someone waiting for you?”
“What?” I can hear the frown in his voice even if I can’t see it.
“I heard more than one woman come in.”
“You’re right. There are two, and they’re with your brother.”
“Both of them?”
I sense his smile. “Both of them.”
“Oh.” Relief overwhelms me even as I try to block out that visual.
Ronan’s hand slips back, this time peeling my panties down past my knees.
I lift my legs until they fall to my ankles and I can shake them off.