Page 22 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

No man has ever…patched me up, as he calls it.

And that’s sad, isn’t it? That I’m moved by the tender acts of a kidnapper all because no other man I’ve encountered in my life was ever this attentive to me.

Rory finishes his work in just a few minutes, but even once he’s done, he doesn’t release my hand.

“You’re helping me, you know.”

My eyes fly to his. He’s giving me a melty look, like I’m supposed to believe him. Like he’s telling the truth. “What do you mean?”

“That’s why I took you. It’s because I knew you could help me…us. The Kings.” Rory tries to clear up the point he’s making, but the damage is already done.

Inside, a fuzzy kind of warmth has begun to bloom and grow inside me.

Why does a tiny part of me enjoy that? Being helpful to him. To anyone.

Helping is such a pretty way to dress up what this actually is.

“You’re just using me,” I challenge.

Rory squeezes my hand, a dark gleam in his eyes. “So use me back.”

My heart pounds out a jagged beat.

“Rory, what are you talking about?” We face each other, my hand still in his.

“Your bucket list.” Rory shifts his weight and then brings my taped-up hand to rest against his sturdy chest. “I can’t send you to Paris or Marrakesh, but if sex with a willing participant is something you’re interested in…I volunteer.”

His eyes bore into mine, transferring a scorching heat. It’s invasive and exhilarating all at once.

Hunger radiates from Rory’s beautiful features, like the wolf inside him is desperate to claw its way out.

I shiver. If he’s a wolf, I must be Little Red Riding Hood, because he looks like he wants to devour me.

I want to trust him, but… “Is this some kind of joke?”

Rory offers the slightest headshake. “I’m one-hundred-percent serious.”

“You’re volunteering to…”

I can’t even finish my sentence. This is so absurd.

“Think of me like a sacrifice on the altar of your sexual education.” His gaze falls to my mouth. “If you want.”

If I want?

His offer is…unbelievable on its own, but what’s more astounding is how tempted I actually am.

It shouldn’t be tempting at all. I should be ripping away from him and racing out of this room. My eyes shouldn’t be undressing the man standing in front of me.

Get a grip. My brain begs me to snap out of it, but every time I close my eyes and re-open them, I’m still standing here, and Rory’s still standing there, volunteering to…sleep with me…as some kind of consolation prize for getting kidnapped?

Use me back.

Why do those words make me so wet?

I slap both my hands over my face. Oh my god, my vagina needs a time-out.

Rory is a very hot, very dangerous man, but he’s never hurt me. Physically.

Not like Leo. Or Enzo, or…

Nope. Not thinking about the third De Luca right now.

Focus, Kiara!

Insane as it may be, I’m considering saying yes to his wild invitation.

What’s stopping me? What do I have to lose?

My virginity? It’s not like I’m doing anything important with it.

I’m not saving myself for some fairy-tale prince.

Besides, virginity’s just a social construct. Taking Rory up on his offer would give me an actual shot at truly living. Instead of moldering away in my mother’s paint studio while life passes me by like a summer breeze.

For once, I’d be doing something I choose to do instead of doing the things forced on me. Honestly, if I hadn’t slammed into Rory that night, Leo would have caught me, sold me at that damn auction, and I’d probably be in a new cage by now.

At this point, my future remains uncertain. The ability to make this one choice about my own life is an opportunity I may never have again.

I don’t want to think about it, but there’s still a very real possibility Leo will get his hands on me before this is all over. And if something so terrible as that were to happen, guaranteed , I’d never have another volunteer sex opportunity in the whole course of my miserable existence.

Shouldn’t I agree to this, if only for that reason?

Hell, it’s more than my mom got.

And I mean, it’s not like giving my first sexual experience to Rory would be that much of a chore, if I’m being honest with myself…

If Rory were offering himself to me under totally normal, non-fucked-up circumstances, the answer would be, yes, yes, and more yes with a popped cherry on top .

“Kiara?” Rory’s deep, relaxing voice prompts me to remove my hands from my face.

“I accept.” I blurt the words before I lose my courage.

Two tiny words that set the moment on fire. The sexual energy crackling between us cranks up until the air itself feels charged, and the change in Rory is instant.

His pupils dilate, and his entire body quivers with anticipation.

The lust in his expression is raw. Unfiltered. Untamed.

Everything suddenly feels a lot more dangerous…and exciting.

Then, the moment explodes, both of us moving at once. We reach for each other at the same time, my arms flying around his neck, his thick, strong hands grabbing me around the waist and yanking my rapidly heating body flush against his own.

He growls before melding his eager mouth to mine.

A single kiss becomes two, then three. Each one runs into the next without us stopping for air.

Making out with Rory is better than I remember.

And that’s not good news, because what I remember is the single most sensual experience of my life.

We devour each other with our lips and hands. Rory squeezes my waist, his palms sliding around to my back. One of his hands cuffs my neck, shooting a bolt of pure lust straight to my throbbing pussy.

He releases my neck, and that same hand dives down to my ass, grabbing a palmful. His other hand gathers my hair and uses it like reins to tilt my head up, leaving my neck wide open for his tongue and teeth .

The delicious scrape of his teeth against my tender skin pulls a sound from me that I’ve never heard before. Part gasp, part moan, part whimper. My skin’s burning up, Rory having infected me with his fever.

“Come here.” Rory snarls against my lips before lifting me by my ass. I latch onto him tighter as he swings us back around toward his desk and deposits me on it, somehow pulling me even closer with the big hands curled around my thighs.

He rocks forward, and I rock with him, leaning back as he kisses down my jaw, neck, and into my cleavage.

I suddenly wish I was naked.

Very naked, so Rory could kiss me everywhere without the barrier of clothes.

Dropping my head back, I give up and let the sensations sweep me away.

Rory grabs another handful of my ass and uses it to pull me up to him. He’s hard, and the pressure of his thick cock against my aching core makes me clench my thighs. The motion sends every ounce of blood in my body rushing between my legs. Is lust supposed to make me this dizzy and drunk?

“Tell the truth,” I exhale, as Rory nips at my neck. The pleasure’s so sharp, my toes curl. “Is this the real reason you brought me down here?”

“No.” He lays a heavy kiss on my neck then draws back to smirk at me. “But I would have if I’d thought of it.”

His hazel eyes burn into me, and I can only stand the heat for a few seconds before I yank his lips back to mine.

For a while, the noise of our kisses banishes every thought from my mind. I’m like an animal in a trance. Nothing has ever felt more primal, natural, or right.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating, and I don’t know how to stop.

My hands drift over Rory’s shoulders, down his broad chest… I don’t know what I’m doing. Never having done this before frazzles my nerves. By the time my hands reach the waist of Rory’s jeans, my fingers are shaking.

As soon as my right hand grazes his bulge, Rory hisses and rolls his body against mine.

The denim standing between his skin and mine does nothing to buffer the sheer heat radiating off him. I give his length an experimental squeeze.

He breaks our kiss, his voice commanding. “Stop that.”

I freeze. Did I do it wrong?

Before I die from humiliation, Rory drops his forehead to mine.

“That’s not how this works.” He tightens his grip on my thighs. “You’re supposed to be using me to get off, not the other way around.”

“What does that mean?” I blurt.

A chuckle escapes him, which sends embarrassment pinging through me.

“It means you call the shots .” Rory releases me and takes a small step back. I find the cool air that washes over me in the absence of his overwhelming heat jarring.

“But we’ve…” I stop and start again. “We’ve already established that I don’t have previous experience in this area.”

My heart gallops like hoofbeats down a mountain.

With difficulty, I admit the truth to him. “When I said I was inexperienced, I didn’t just mean…you know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

In fact, I’ve spent my whole life avoiding that type of attention. When you grow up with the men I did, evading the lecherous eye of anything male within a hundred miles becomes an understandable goal.

Rory groans like he’s in pain. “You can’t say shit like that to me without warning.

The thought of being the one who introduces you to all your sexual firsts makes me harder than a steel pole.

And that inexperience is even more reason for you to call the shots.

” Rory’s usually smooth voice is a rasp.

“It’s your first time. Don’t you want a say? ”

“Of course, but I…”

The truth is that I’ve never once considered what it would be like to actually give a man the green light to explore my body.

All I know is that I want Rory madly. I may not know his last name, but that’s not a priority. Not dying is, and I think I might expire if we don’t finish what we started.

But I’m also nervous as all hell.

What’s he going to do to me? What if I don’t like it? What if I do ?

Will anything hurt? I’ve read that for some girls it does and for others it doesn’t. Based on how wet I am, I’m betting I fall into that second category.

I’ve also read that some girls don’t feel much of anything at all, though I doubt I’ll have that issue with this guy.

But what if Rory has an issue with me?