Chapter Fourteen

Savannah

I’m vaguely aware that I should stop this…stop him. But I can’t control the rays of heat that pulse through my body at his feather soft touches to my lips and neck. I want this. I want Ronan. Nobody’s ever been able to make me feel so much like a woman.

Claimed.

Besides, I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m a flesh and blood woman, nearly thirty. I’m never in the tabloids for anything outside of my slightly outrageous shopping habits. I’ll be able to handle a one-night stand with my burly mountain man, surely.

If I want something, nothing’s going to stop me from taking it. Ronan sweeps everything off the kitchen table with one swat of his massive arm. The clanging of silverware and the crash of the metal bowls reach my ears, but I barely acknowledge them over the rush of blood that pounds through them.

He lifts me by the waist as if I weigh nothing and places me on the edge of the plank table, never breaking contact with my lips. I’m wearing a cotton t-shirt, and he takes a hold of the V-neck and rips it from my torso. I shiver at the barely restrained power coursing through his body. He could break me in half and that fact isn’t lost on me. But it’s raw and exciting. And so not what I’m used to from men who normally capitulate to my every desire.

“Yer wearin’ too many clothes,” he rasps, putting his fingers in the cups of my bra and yanking them down to free my breasts for his hungry gaze.

I don’t reply, just lean back on my elbows to grant him greater access. He growls and reaches for my nipples, capturing the erect peaks in between his fingers. His nostrils flair as he pinches and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger and a rush of wetness floods my panties. It’s a fine line that dances between pleasure and pain, and I want them off before my core overheats.

A puff of breath escapes my mouth and fans across my shoulder as I stare at him, wondering what he’ll do next. What he’s really capable of. A shiver travels up my spine, and my nipples become impossibly hard nubs aching with a newfound pleasure at his manhandling.

“Sit up and turn ‘round,” he demands.

That isn’t what I want. “No.”

He reaches down and jerks me up against his rock-solid chest. “Don’t ever say nay to me again. I know what yer need, Savannah Starr. Don’t deny me the lesson I’m about to teach yer.”

He grips the back of my neck but doesn’t pull me in for a kiss like I thought he would. Instead, Ronan flips me around and places me back on my feet, knees wobbling as my back becomes flush with his front. He unbuttons the fly of my jeans, and since he’s unable to tear them off due to the thickness of the denim, he heaves them down my legs until I can step out of them. But the panties…they’re gone in one rip of antique lace.

“Better,” he growls into my ear. “Yer want me to lead. And as much as yer goin’ to deny it, I can smell yer surrender on yer.”

My heart gallops as he gives me a slight push to the small of my back, and I’m bent over the table before I even realize what’s happening. I’ve never been taken from behind like this before, and the suspense makes me crazy, ratcheting up my arousal to an uncomfortable level. I want to see his eyes, and he’s denying me the thing I want most in order to do things his way. It’s annoying and crazy hot all at the same time. Ronan O’Farrell is a conundrum of a man.

He continues pushing me forward until my flushed cheek meets the cool smoothness of the plank table, and I can feel the head of his cock searching for my throbbing pussy.

Dammit, just fuck me already. Make me yours.

“Do yer remember the time on Mateo when we were ridin’ in to town?” he asks, teasing me with his massive cock along with his words. “The day yer squealed yer pleasure so only the birds and the bears could hear yer?”

I squirm, wiggling my ass against him so I can tease him as much as he’s teasing me. “I thought you said there weren’t any bears in Ireland.”

He doesn’t answer my smart aleck comment, instead, he takes his huge hand and places it between my legs but doesn’t move it. I try to grind against it, but he tugs my hair again, an unspoken command to remain still and obey. I instinctually know that he’s just going to continue denying me what I want most. But I won’t beg.

Yet.

“It turned yer on, didn’t it? My hand right where ‘tis now, touchin’ yer wet heat.”

My dry mouth can’t seem to function enough that I can answer him. Another yank produces only a nod of my head.

“But that wasn’t enough, was it, Savie? That didn’t satisfy yer at all.”

He’s killing me with these damn questions. My pussy clenches and tries to draw him deep inside me. Ronan clucks his tongue and gives my rear a stinging little pinch.

“No,” I finally manage to spit out between ragged breaths. There isn’t enough oxygen in the room to keep my inhales from making me lightheaded. Or is that just Ronan and his dirty mouth, thick with brogue and demands that make me want to cater to his every whim?

“Tell me what else yer want,” he says, sliding one finger into my wet folds and holding it there. My clit throbs and aches. The only thing that’s going to take the exquisite pain away is the strength of my release, the one he’s not letting me have. Well, two can play at this sexy game.

Using all my strength, I push back against him. “I want you to slide your cock inside me and fuck me hard and fast. The harder the better.”

My heart seems to leap from my chest as I wait to see what he’ll do in response to my request. “Soaking wet, yer are. I like it, ‘cause I know I caused it.”

I moan and shove my hips backward again, and yet, Ronan remains still. He must have the patience of Job or the body control of a combat veteran. A rustle of fabric moves behind me and I hear him divest himself of his pants. He reaches around and fondles my breasts, pulling and rolling my nipples until I struggle against him. When is he going to put out the raging fire that can only be extinguished by his dick?

He grabs the head and pulls it through my wet folds. As my muscles clench with pleasure, he leans his hips forward and pushes into me less than an inch. He’s bare, and I know I should insist on a condom. But I trust him. Stupidly, I trust him, and God, it feels so good.

He’s trying to kill me with pleasure.

It’s been so long that I can feel my own tightness as I pulse around him, my pussy trying to suck him inside me all the way. My fingernails scratch down the wood until I slap my palms flat, welcoming the sting of the pain. Anything to distract my raging blood from how badly I want him to split me wide open and thrust hard.

After several moments where I imagine hurting him for denying me, he pulls back on my hips and slams forward, lodging his cock in so deep I can feel it in my torso, his hips remaining flush against my ass. I wiggle against him and delight in the answering moan of pleasure that tumbles from his lips.

I deliberately contract around him, squeezing and drawing him in even further. His next thrust is faster and sloppier. I’m making him lose control. I smile. Now, who’s the teacher and who’s the student? He’d do well to remember that I’m not one of his Wintervale tarts, set to jump to his bidding in bed and out of it. I can give as good as I get.

I give a strangled moan of my own as he picks up the right rhythm, hitting me in a place I didn’t even know I had. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and simply feel.

Feel him.

Feel everything.

He may have started out trying to dominate me. Let’s see how he feels when the roles are reversed.