Page 107 of Death Valley
“You’ve already cast your spell, Scarlett,” he says, his warm breath coasting over my lips and making me wantmore.
Fuck.
Then he kisses me and any thoughts of pulling away and doing the right thing bynottaking my clothes off for him again go out of my head.
I arch closer, and he doesn’t hesitate to take over. He cups my face with both hands, aggressively claiming me, heating every inch of my body with just the strokes of his tongue against mine.
Well, I warned him. I told him I was using him, that all I want is sex. Itoldhim. So if he thinks this means we’re getting married or something, that’s his own fault.
I hook my fingers into his belt loops and start pushing him toward the laundry room that’s just off the kitchen. Wecouldgo up to my bedroom, but I share a wall with Mariah and Ruby is across the hall…and no, we couldn’t go up to my bedroom. What the hell am I thinking?
About a bed. About a big horizontal surface. About a location for this where you won’t get mosquito bites.
The patio last night had been sexy and hot, and I’ve been thinking about it off and on all day, heat flooding my body every time, but I don’t want to do this on the patio again.
I push him into the laundry room, his ass hitting the dryer, the motion pulling our lips apart. I’m breathing fast as I swing the door shut behind us. “Will this work?” I ask, looking around. I eye the washer and dryer. They’re both too high. The ironing board propped in the corner will no way hold even one of us. Dammit. I could bend over but…
“I’ll make it work,” he growls, reaching out and grabbing my wrist, pulling me to him. He kisses me deeply again, then turns me to face the dryer. “Hands on top,” he orders.
I do it. God, I love when he bosses me.
If anyone had told me that before I’d been in New Orleans with him, I wouldn’t have believed it. I would have said I’m a strong, independent woman who knows what she likes and needs. I’m sexually open and well-adjusted and I don’t date men who I don’t feel like I can talk to about what I want in bed.
Which is maybe why I’ve only had two partners other than Cian since Mariah’s dad.
But Cian O’Grady, the seemingly young, cocky playboy had come along, taken charge, told me what I was going to do and how I was going to do it, and what he wanted from me andoh my God, it had been better than anything I could have come up with in my dirtiest daydreams.
“I have been thinking about this sweet pussy all fucking day,” he says against my neck. He might’ve gotten rid of the beard, but he has whiskers at this time of night and the roughness against my skin makes goosebumps dance down my spine.
I press back against him. “I’ve been thinking about last night too.”
“What do you need?” he asks. “Right now, what do you need?”
“Just make me feel good. Like you always do.”
“My fucking pleasure,” he says.
While Henry set the table and Cian pulled the casserole from the oven, I’d quickly showered and dressed in loose gray cotton shorts and a T-shirt with a sports bra. Had I thought about the easy access of those items at the time?
Yes, yes, I had.
One of his hands steals up under my T-shirt, and pulls my bra up, exposing both breasts. The other slips down the front of my shorts.
“Have I properly praised you for your choice of evening attire around the house?” he asks.
“I dressed for comfort.” My voice is breathy.
“Oh, my sweet liar, you dressed to get finger fucked against the dryer in your laundry room,” he tells me.
One hand palms my breast, teasing my nipple, while the other cups me through my cotton panties.
He presses against my clit. “Spread your legs,” he tells me. “Let me have this magical, perfect pussy that has me under this spell I never want broken.”
I widen my stance, and he shifts to slide his hand into my panties, his middle finger rubbing over my clit. He circles three times then gives me a little pinch.
I gasp. “Cian!”
“Will you soak my hand, Scarlett? I want to make you come hard and fast on my fingers. Please.” The last word is deep and husky ashe slides two thick fingers into me at once.
