Page 160 of Pretty Mess

“Keep going,” I gasp.

“You sure?”

I nod frantically. “I might not be able to come again, but this is for you.”

His head comes up, and he smiles knowingly. “Oh, I think you’ve got another one in you.”

I catch my breath. “Do you?”

He nods. “And it’s mine. I want your come on me. I want it coating my skin.”

He kisses me, forcing my head back into the pillow while I wrap him in my arms and legs, wanting to blend with him, to meld our bodies so tightly together we can never get free. He pistons into me, and the strength and dominance are just what I need, just what I crave. This feeling of being taken over by him to a place where all my wants are his to fulfil is so addictive.

“My come is inside me,” I gasp, and he nods, his panting breaths hot on my skin. He’s grunting now every time he bottoms out, and it’s such a nasty, guttural sound that I feel my cock fill and rise again, pushing against him. It slides in the sweat covering us, and his head comes up, his eyes wild now and unfocused. I gasp as he comes up on his knees, forcing my legs around him and plunging deeper than before. This angle rubs his cock across my prostate, the nub swollen. It sends littleelectric shocks through me, and I jerk, grinding down on him, wanting more, wanting him so deep he’ll never get out.

My cock bounces on my stomach, and I watch him through slitted eyes as he pushes in and out of me. His cock is dark and swollen as it emerges from my hole and then shuttles back in.

“Going to come,” he grits out, and I nod, shoving down on him. He grabs my dick, fisting it, and it’s enough to send me over the edge. I shout as I pulse over his fingers in sticky spurts, aware of him roaring out his pleasure as he comes inside me. He pulls out slightly, still coming, and then shoves in again and again, and I can feel his spunk slick on my balls and between my legs. Then he collapses onto me, and it’s so familiar that it brings tears to my eyes.

It’s only after a few minutes of lying together that I realise what’s different this time. Always before, he’s got up and moved away, intent on setting distance between us, but not this time. His cock has softened and slipped out, but he’s still lying between my legs. He’s resting his weight to the side, so he doesn’t smother me, but his arms are around me, his fingers stroking my skin slowly up and down, and his head is on my shoulder. He’s pressing kisses there that are gentle and soft, and I make a pleased sound that I try to smother, not wanting to break the moment.

It’s too late, though. He pulls back slightly so his head rests on the other pillow and his eyes watch me seriously. I think he’s going to leave now, but to my amazement, he draws me back into his arms, one hand tracing my body from groin to chest in a sweeping caress. “Why did you come to me?” he finally says.

I think about it for a beat. “I wanted to seize the moment and have honest sex with you where it’s just us. With no ghosts between us and no lies.”

His fingers continue to stroke my arm. “Why?”

“Because this one was on my terms. No money. No deal. Just us.”

He hesitates. “Will you stay tonight?” he whispers, the words vulnerable.

I consider him for a long second, then lean forward and kiss his nose. “I thought you’d never ask, Cormac Reilly.”

“Just Mac to you.”

I come awake slowly, aware that something is different. I’m warm beneath soft sheets that smell of Mac’s cologne. Memory returns, and I turn my head. Mac is lying behind me, one arm slung over my waist, and his breath hits my neck in soft puffs. For a novice at sharing a bed, he surely is good at cuddling. My mouth twitches. I suppose it helps that he’s still fast asleep and knows nothing about it.

I nestle closer, feeling my cock stir as the sheets gust the scent of sex. After a moment, I ease gently out of his arms. I hold my breath when his breathing changes, but he just wrinkles his nose and settles more deeply under the duvet. He’d be horrified to know he’s very cute.

Moving quietly, I pick up my pyjama shorts and leave the room, shutting the door softly. I need to think, and I do that best outside, so I head to my room and dress quickly before making my way outside.

The sun is out, and the sky is the clear, blue colour of a forget-me-not. The garden looks like it’s been through the washing machine. Everything is shiny and bright, and the scents are intense as I walk down the path and open the gate, stepping onto the beach.

I walk for a while, my thoughts busy as I pace at the sea’s edge. The water is ice cold on my bare feet, waking me up like a dip in a plunge pool. Seagulls dip and soar above me, calling to each other and riding the breeze.

I don’t know what to think about yesterday. Scratch that. Idoknow what to think.

I’m more deeply in love with Mac than ever. His revelations about his family made me want to weep, but they also made my heart swell with pride and awe for Mac. He overcame so much. And it’s not just the millions he’s made with his property empire that proves his success. Under his hard exterior is a man who opens an addiction clinic to help people like his mum. A man who’d allow someone like Tyler to live with him simply to ensure his care. A man who sends a car to pick up his ex-fuckboy after learning he’s working in a petrol station in a shit neighbourhood.

My lips quirk. He’d hate that I thought of myself in that way, but that’s yet another reason why he’s irresistible. He’s more horrified than I am by the start to our relationship, but he’s never really understood my feelings.

I couldn’t really think of him as Mr Reilly—the reclusive and taciturn enigma. That never seemed right to me. Over time, I fell for Mac Reilly—the fascinating and funny man. The person who patches my cuts up, who really listens to me, who teaches me backgammon, shares his secrets, mocks me, and runs through the rain in Paris with me. How could I not be? He’s everything I never thought to dream up.

Moving up the beach, I find a dry stretch of sand and settle down on it, drawing up my knees and contemplating the sea sightlessly.

What about Brandon? The question inevitably seeps into my thoughts like waves lapping the shore.

“Fuck him. He’s not here.Iam,” I say defiantly.