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“Like what?”I pant, already breathless and craving more.

“Power,” he growls, dragging his tongue along the mark he left.“The way it feels when you have complete control.”

His words send a shiver down my spine because he’s right.

I fucking love it.

I don’t get a chance to respond before he turns, carrying me across the room and tossing me onto the massive wooden table in the center.He grips my ankles, yanking me to the edge, spreading me wide beneath him.

“You think you can do whatever the fuck you want without consequences?”he asks, his eyes dark and predatory.Then, his fingers slip beneath the thin lace of my knickers.With one tug, he tears the fabric and tosses it to the side.

“Maybe,” I whisper.“What are you going to do about it?”

His answering smile is pure sin.“I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”

His hands are on me, rough and unyielding, as he slides his fingers through the sensitive flesh between my thighs, teasing, taunting, keeping me just on the edge without giving me what I need.

“Eamon,” I breathe, my hips rolling into his touch, desperate for more.

But he takes his time, tormenting me, dragging this out just long enough to make me ache.Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside me.I cry out.My back arches off the table as he curls them, hitting the spot he knows will break me.

“You get off on this, don’t you?”he murmurs, his lips tracing along my jaw as he finger fucks me, his pace ruthless.“Manipulating your brother, running circles around men who think they’re stronger than you.”

I bite my lip, clenching around him, my breathing ragged.

“Look at me,” he orders.

I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze.

“Tell me.I want to hear you say it,mo chroí,” he says, his voice low.

“I love it,” I admit.

A wicked smile curves his mouth as he drags the head of his thick cock against my slick folds.Then, he pushes in, slow and brutal, sinking into me inch by inch until he’s seated deep.

My head falls back against the table, a broken moan slipping from my lips.

Eamon doesn’t move, doesn’t thrust.He holds himself there, a deep, merciless stretch that has me writhing beneath him.

"You love being the one pulling the strings," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin."Making kings and monsters kneel without ever lifting a blade."

A soft, desperate sound escapes me as he finally moves, a slow, punishing grind that has me clenching around him, chasing friction, chasing more.

But Eamon is relentless.He drags it out, fucking me slow and deep, drawing out every whimper, every plea I try to swallow.

"You want to be worshipped for it, don’t you?"he taunts, his hand sliding up my body to wrap around my throat, a dark promise against my pulse.

"You deserve to be worshipped,mo chroí."

He pulls back almost all the way, the loss so sharp I nearly sob, then slams into me hard enough to rattle the table beneath us.

My cry is swallowed by his mouth crashing against mine, a brutal claiming kiss that leaves no doubt.I’m his.And he’s going to break me apart piece by piece, not because he wants to ruin me.

Because he knows I'm meant to be ruined by him.

“Fuck, Aoife,” he groans, dropping his forehead against mine.“You drive me fucking insane.”

I scrape my nails down his spine, biting his shoulder as he pounds into me, the room filled with the sound of skin against skin.The raw, desperate rhythm of us.