Page 26 of Blood in the Water

She lifted a hand, reaching for him. “Come fuck me, Nolan.”

13

He was dying to drive into her, his cock throbbing between his legs, his skin stretched taut from the arousal that had grown to a fever pitch as he’d devoured her pussy.

Nothing had ever tasted so sweet.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, her skin flushed with the heat of her orgasm, eyes half closed, lips swollen from his kisses. Her hair was fanned out on the bed behind her, the copper strands picking up the dim light in the room.

“I fucking love you, Bridget,” he said looking down at her.

It was the truest thing he knew.

“Show me,” she said. “Please.”

There was an unfamiliar plea in her voice: the need to forget, to lose herself in the sensation of pleasure, to reassure herself that everything was okay even when neither of them knew for sure that it was, that it would be.

He positioned his thick head at her entrance and drove into her.

She locked her ankles around the back of his knees,pulling him in deeper, and all thought dropped away, replaced by the demands of his body.

Her urgency was a match for his own, her hips lifting off the bed to meet his thrusts as his cock carved a path through her engorged tunnel. He lifted her ass with his hands, pulling her off the bed, fitting her hips against his as he buried himself inside her.

He moaned. “Jesus, you feel good.”

He impaled her over and over again, their bodies moving at an increasingly frenzied pace, as if to prove that they were both really here, that the worst hadn’t happened, that they were alive and well in spite of the danger sucking them into its vortex.

She lifted her arms over her head to grab the edge of the mattress, and he lowered his mouth briefly to one of her full breasts, closing his mouth around the erect nipple and sucking until she gasped, bathing his cock in a fresh round of desire as he sank into her again and again.

His release was quickly becoming undeniable, building at the tip of his cock, his desperation to give into it increasing with every second that he looked down at her, spread out beneath him like a goddess, her skin plump and fevered.

“Come for me again, Bridge.”

He reached between their bodies and flattened the pad of his thumb against her clit, pressing in circles as he thrust into her hard and fast, withdrawing only long enough to push into her again. Her channel was more swollen by the second, tightening around his cock as she prepared to meet her own orgasm.

“That’s right,” he coaxed. “Give it to me, beautiful. Come for me so I can come for you.”

She cried out, still clutching onto the edge of themattress over her head as her channel clamped down on his cock like a silken vise.

The pressure let loose the last of his control. He groaned as he spilled into her, his body convulsing as he came, pushing through her tight pussy even as her own release caused her to lock down on his cock.

It went on and on, building until he was expanding beyond the confines of his skin, until they were more than two people losing themselves in the pleasure of each other’s bodies, until they were one.

He was hardly aware of the moment it ended, of the moment he lowered himself onto the bed next to her and pulled her all the way onto the mattress, wrapping her in his arms.

She lay her head against his chest, and his breathing slowly normalized as he stroked her hair. There was no need for words. Their fear had been mutual, palpable, the explosion at Seamus’s a reminder of the tightrope they were both walking, of what was at stake if one of them fell into the abyss.

Working for the Syndicate had been dangerous even when it had been run by Carlo Rossi, but then Nolan’s only loyalty had been to Rossi’s organization. There had been no rival family seeking to take Rossi out, no spying or ratting to the Feds.

And he’d been young. He’d felt invincible, a rich kid who’d never even stolen a candy bar suddenly swaggering around Southie with a gun and the backing of the most powerful underground crime organization in the world.

He knew better now. Knew people lost their lives — and more — every day. Knew it wasn’t always fair. The good guys didn’t always win. Even worse, it was getting harder to determine who the good guys were, to figure out if he was one ofthem or just deluding himself to rationalize what he was doing.

It made everything that was happening with Seamus and the Syndicate, with Bridget and Will, feel more immediate, more urgent. None of them were safe. That was the truth, no matter how hard he wanted to deny it.

“I want you to help me buy a gun,” Bridget said softly. “And teach me how to use it.”

The words shook him from his thoughts and he looked down at her, still laying on his bare chest. He wanted to deny her. To tell her she didn’t need it. That it would only make the situation more dangerous — for her and her parents and Owen.