Page 70 of Intimately Faithful

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

She shivered and inched closer, her fingers started wandering up the back of his shirt.

That was Danny’s first clue when his cock woke up with a jerk.

“Danny…?”

Her voice a little high pitched as she went up on her toes, gave him her wild eyes, the pupils blown up to almost black, and before he could say a word she smashed their mouths together, whimpering her little sounds into his lips.

Rumbling a startled laugh through his chest, he gripped the back of her head and Danny could swear his Aoife was trying to tell him something.

What with the way she was going at his pants, with two desperate hands, until she got the zipper and button undone and her hand slid inside to grasp himtightly.

Tight enough he saw pleasured stars popping behind his eyelids.

“I need you, please. Please, Danny.”

With fast, swift movements he hoisted her into his arms, dropping them both on his bed only after a fast climb of the stairs, then fighting to get their clothes out of the way, all the while she ate him alive with hot, impassioned kisses.

He shoved home in one mighty thrust, swallowing her cry.

She told him how good he felt.

How hard he was.

She clawed and moved her skinny hips until his eyes rolled into the back of his head, fighting for control so he didn’t lose himself inside her too quickly.

He slammed harder and impossibly deeper.

They kissed hot and heavy while he took her and when the pleasure overcame them both, she clasped him hard, soaking his cock as he too let go on a heated grunt.

Reluctant to have it finished, he continued to rock slowly inside her while his girl, sweet as could be, laughed and brushed kisses all over his face as she relaxed beneath him.

He was done for, he realized.

His Irish lass would always be the one.

His body knew it, his heart vowed it.

SEVENTEEN

“Luckily his pretty face makes up for his poor musicality.” – Aoife

Aoife wouldn’t have believed it had she not seen it with her own eyes.

She had to stifle a giggle, or she’d be on the floor laughing her arse off.

Around her, she watched people cringe, probably wishing they could put their fingers in their ears.

The man she loved so much and the same man who woke her early that Sunday morning with kisses on her neck, was up front in his church, accompanying the singing choir by playing his guitar.

He looked hot. Seriously, gorgeous in dark jeans, and a tight shirt with his jaw stubbled and his sandy hair swept in all directions and it was more than evident how much fun he was having strumming the strings.

But boy, did he stink.

Most every key was out of tune and though the choir increased their volume, much to Aoife’s amusement, the badly played guitar could still be heard.

It was a relief to know Danny Murphy wasn’t completely perfect in everything he did.