Page 14 of Desecrated Reign
My grip on his hair tightens, and I push against his head, needing him closer. My hips grind to the tempo of his sweet, delicious torture, drawing in and out and driving me fucking insane. The pressure builds, shooting through my core like a thousand tiny bullets. My whole body goes rigid, bending for him as he claims my release.
Right as I am on the ledge, ready to jump, he peers up at me, locking his eyes on mine. Then he breathes his next words against my sensitive nub while simultaneously stroking my G-spot. “Be a good girl, Saoirse. Break for me.”
There’s no stopping the orgasm that rushes through me with the strength of a freight train. The exhilarating fall steals the breath from my lungs as I gasp through the intensity. My head tips back, and my eyes slam shut, and I become one with the wave. “Fucking hell.”
Rohan laps at my pussy, feasting on my release, then finally he pulls back, his hypnotic eyes following the blush that’s crept up my neck and coated my cheek. His thumb slides along his chin, swiping at the cum glistening against his skin. Then, with a wink, he wraps his lips around it, sucking it clean of my juices. “Nah, love. Fucking heaven.”
Kissing his way up my bare stomach, his hands travel over my ribs as he pushes to his feet.
Next, his fingers slip underneath the band of my sports bra. “Hands up, love.”
Doing as he asks, I raise my arms as he peels the material up and over my head before dropping it to the floor. My bottom lip catches between my teeth as my gaze roams over every inch of his exposed skin—the ridges of his abs, the deep V that carves his hips, and finally, his rock-hard cock. He looks like a tall glass of water, and fuck me, I am parched.
Using his thumb, he frees my lip with a swipe, then offers me the two fingers still coated with my cum. “Taste yourself, love.” My eyes latch onto his as I lean forward and wrap my lips around them. Keeping eye contact, I slowly slide my tongue along his digits, allowing my taste to erupt on my taste-buds.
A groan rumbles from his chest as he watches with eager eyes. Then, with the next breath, he rips his hand away from my mouth and replaces it with his own. His kiss isn’t hungry, it’s starving, all-consuming, and demanding.
I meet each stroke, my hands roaming over his back, fingernails digging into his skin as I wrap my legs around his narrow waist. “I missed you.” Those three words slip free, making me feel vulnerable.
His lips are on my neck, kissing up the column until he reaches my ear. “Níor fhág mé riamh, mo gra.” I never left, my love. His hand slides between my breasts, stopping at the centre, over my heart. “I was always right here, gathering the fragments, so I can help you put it back together.” Sliding his grip higher, he grasps my neck, fingertips clutching my jaw and holding my gaze with his. “And even if your heart is missing a piece or two, it won’t stop me from loving the rest of you.”
Nobody sees me the way Rohan does—worthy, strong, fearless, and free. Coincidentally, those are all the things he makes me feel, too. Almost as though, when we are together, I can view myself from his eyes.
If only I could show him what I see when I look at him, especially on nights like tonight. He thought he had to hide from me, fearful that I wouldn’t like what I saw. But I’m not scared of the monster he hides; quite the opposite. I want to free him, dance with him, and teach him I can love him beyond measure, too—even the blackest shadows of his soul.
Reaching between us, I wrap my hand around his shaft, guiding him to where I want him most. “Don’t tell me. Show me.” The moment is intense, a game of dare that will cross every line we’ve drawn. “Love me back to life, Rohan.”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, but he never breaks the hold he has on my soul. Then, without hesitation, he pushes forward with his hips, easing into me inch by inch. “Jesus Christ, you’re saturated.” His eyes close, savouring the feel of my pussy clamping around his dick.
“Eyes on me, Rí.”
He curls his lips into a wicked smile. “Since when do you make the demands, love?”
“Since I realised the queen is the most powerful piece on the board. Now, fuck me like you love me, King.”
“With fucking pleasure.” Pulling out, he grips my hips and tugs me off the counter. Next thing I know, he’s spinning me around to face the mirror. My body bends forward, and my hands hit the aluminium, smudging the fogged-with-steam glass. Then, curling his hand around my body, he grasps my neck, bowing my back into a curve. Leaning forward, he moulds his chest to my back, his lips tracing the juncture of my neck as he cages me beneath him. “You want me to fuck you like I love you?”
“Yes. Oh, God, yes.”
“Well then, you better hold on tight, baby. Because the way I love you is fucking madness personified. It’s an all-consuming, die-for-you, kill-for-you, burn-this-town-to-the-ground-for-you kind of love. It’s wild and unruly, wholly and deeply, and everything in be-fucking-tween. Can you handle that, Saoirse? Can you handle a love that paves the road to hell? And if so, are you prepared to walk that road with me?”
Peering over my shoulder, I rest my forehead against his cheek.
Losing Liam didn’t make me love Rohan any less. And even though he needs to hear that, I keep it to myself, not wanting to ruin the intensity of this moment. My heart belongs to both of them, which will never change, but Rohan holds it in his palm. “Yes, Rohan. I can fucking handle it.”
His lips graze my cheeks, and then once again, he lines up his cock with my entrance, only this time, he isn’t gentle. He thrusts forward, and my hip bones greet the edge of the countertop. Just like he promised, he fucks me with madness, thrusting in and out, over and over, until he’s crept under every inch of my skin.
It’s not soft or sweet, it’s intense and consuming—just like he said it would be. Breathless moans and roaming hands lead to a high that feels utterly reckless, but we both jump together, neither of us fearing the fall.
When we finally collapse into a tangle of limbs on the bathroom floor, I nestle into his neck, arm splayed across his chest, and I know nobody could ever love me the way Rohan King does—madness personified.
9
SAOIRSE
My hand is steady as I sharpen my winged eyeliner, framing my smoked eye with a feline effect. Then, touching up my lips with a coat of my favourite burgundy lipstick, I step back, surveying the finished product—hair pulled into a sleek high ponytail, a mini black body-con dress, and thigh-high boots. Straightening my spine, I suck in a deep breath, trying to embody the bad arse staring back at me.
In a little over an hour, I’ll be walking into a room full of the most powerful men in the country, men who want what’s rightfully mine. Unfortunately for them, I’m not about to bow down and let them take it, not without a putting up a fight, anyway.