Page 7 of Lost Lyrebird

In no time at all, he’s teasing the tip of his cock back and forth over my entrance.It’s a punishment for what I did to him earlier.As my need grows, I sink my nails into his thigh and reach around to grab a handful of his hair.He plays with the tension, taking his time, before notching himself in place, then pulls me down onto his cock.

He lets the hard beat of the song set the pace.On each downward thrust, I tighten my inner walls around him.

A sound of both pleasure and pain leaves him.“Jesus Christ, this fuckin’ body.”

I get lost in the sensations of it all, the desire his strokes ignite, the pulsing song, the scent of sex, the thrill of being watched.It’s pure adrenaline, and it has me spiraling.

“Yeah, keep moving just like that.Just.Like.That.Fuck, yes.I love watching this ass bounce over me.Cuireann tú mo mheabhair as, a ghrá!”

You drive me out of my mind, love.

One side of my shirt is pushed aside, baring my breast.He fondles and squeezes my nipple between his fingers, bringing the pain he knows I need.He keeps me open and exposed to the entire room.And though it shouldn’t, it has me flying on a high only rough sex can bring.

When he bites down on my earlobe, I let out a desperate whimper and draw every biker’s gaze in the vicinity to me.

“Fuck.Yes, harder.”

And yet, in the back of my mind, a little voice scolds me and says I must be mad to want this.

A little insane.

To prove my point, my mind spins a familiar daydream.I picture Finn standing among them—black hair, shiny with a few premature gray streaks that he once said ran in his family.He’d look so fucking sexy in leather, like that guy at the bar with a wallet chain, studded belt, ripped jeans, and tattoos.

God, yes.Black-as-night tattoos.

The vision pushes me closer to release, and it only takes a few seconds to have me on the brink.

I hold the image of Finn in my mind, savoring the daydream behind my eyelids.I think about that one night we shared, and it sends me into orbit, a space where pleasure meets euphoria.

Deeds, oblivious, gives me exactly what I crave—he rams himself inside of me, collars my throat with his large hand, and cuts off a little of my air.I fuck him so hard there’s pain.Maybe because my heart is hurting, and I want to hurt everywhere else too.

“Uh-uh… right… there.”Nothing but hoarse words leave my lips, hardly audible over the loud music.“Fucking hell, Deeds.”

He slams home.His powerful drives are fueled by the strength in his arms and the vice-like grip he has on my hip.

“Fuck.Sea, sin í mo chailín salach dána.”

Yes, that’s my dirty girl.

“Ride this fuckin’ cock.”

Those words do it for me, and I ignite.My orgasm crashes into me so violently that it blots out the world around me.A cry leaves my mouth as ripples of pleasure roll through me.For an endless moment… I’m weightless, floating there as waves pulse through me.I try to hold on for as long as possible, but all too soon, I’m free-falling from it.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Slowly, I come down from the clouds, back to the land of the living.

It happens gradually, like it always does.I slide quietly back into awareness.As I open my eyes and take in my surroundings, the emotions come.Guilt.Shame.Regret.They flood through me like a river spilling into a lake, a lake with a dam and a faulty foundation full of cracks bursting at the seams.

I take a moment to imagine what I must look like.I picture myself from above.Fromhisvantage point.Half-naked.Eyes dilated.The blue washed-out by my blown-out pupils.My hair a disheveled mess.

Unworthy of him.

Not that I ever was.