Page 129 of Ghosts Don't Cry

“You made me beg, I think it’s only fair I get to torture you too.”

His head tips back against the pillow as I wrap my mouth around him, hollowing my cheeks, taking him as deep as I can. His hands thread into my hair, tightening when my tongue flicks over him just right. He’s breathing hard, his control fraying, his body shaking beneath me. And when I pull back, licking my lips, he lets out a rough, desperate groan.

“Fuck, Phare—” His voice is wrecked, his hands flexing in my hair. “Come here.”

He drags me back up his body, his mouth hot and demanding against mine. His control is gone now, completely shattered. And when he flips me beneath him, pressing me into the mattress, there’s no hesitation left in him, only need.

“I can’t wait anymore. I need to be inside you.”

I help him get rid of his jeans, and then he’s back, his body pressing against mine, and I reach between us, guiding him as he pushes inside. The stretch is deep, intoxicating, and he groans against my throat, his breath hot and ragged.

For a moment, we’re both perfectly still. His forehead drops to mine, and we breathe together, adjusting to this … to being connected again after so long.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice like gravel.

I force my eyes open, meeting his, and the sight of him like this—hovering over me, barely restrained, fully in control yet completely lost to this—is enough to send a new wave of heat curling through my body.

His thrusts are slow at first, his dick sliding in and out of me, but when I wrap my legs around him, dragging him deeper, his restraint snaps. One hand lifts to touch my lips, my cheeks, my jaw, then his fingers are wrapping around my throat, his thumb tilting my head up so he can take my mouth. His tongue thrusts in and out in time with his dick, and I’m pretty sure I lose the ability to think.

“Are you okay?” His voice is strained, barely holding on.

“Yes.” I arch into him. “More.”

His thumb presses gently against my pulse point, and his rhythm changes, becoming more erratic, more desperate.

“You feel …” He breaks off with a groan. “Perfect. You feel perfect.”

My nails rake down his back and he shudders.

“Do that again.”

I do,harder, and he drops his forehead to mine, breathing hard.

“I’m not going to last if you?—”

“Then, don’t. I want to feel you lose control.”

His other hand hooks around my thigh, lifting my leg, and the angle makes me cry out. His name, his touch, the weight ofhim … it’s too much and not enough. My fingers dig into his back, my body bowing into his.

“Ronan—”

He growls against my skin, his movements growing erratic, more desperate, his control fraying with every thrust. He flexes his fingers around my throat, then lets go so he can find my clit, while his lips nip a path along my jaw to my ear.

“I want to hear every sound you make. I want to feel you shake for me, lose yourself in me. Give it to me, Lily. Let me feel how bad you need me.” His fingers find my clit again, and the touch sends another shock of pleasure through me.

I gasp, clutching at his shoulders as the tension snaps. Pleasure crashes through me in waves that leave me trembling, my vision whiting out. He follows moments later, his release torn from him in a rough, shuddering groan, his body flexing against mine as he buries himself so deep, I’m sure I’ll feel him there for weeks.

The world tilts back into place slowly.

He collapses beside me, both of us breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. For a long moment, neither of us moves. Then he reaches for me, pulling me against his side. I go willingly, my head on his chest, listening as his heartbeat gradually slows.

His fingers trace patterns on my shoulder. Lazy circles in a gentle touch.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper against his skin.

His arm tightens around me. “I’m here.”

We lie there in the afternoon light, tangled together, and for the first time since he sent me away that cold December day, the ache I’ve carried in my chest loosens.