He curses and begins to undress me, swiftly getting rid of my skirt and my panties. When he’s about to remove my shirt, I pull my hand out of his jeans. “Not here, your bedroom.”

His chest quickly rises and falls, his breathing heavy. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

I walk toward his room as I remove the rest of my clothes. I glance back, looking at him, and freeze. Even though I can see desire in his eyes, it’s the tenderness behind it that makes me want to break down and weep.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.

When we’re in his room, surrounded by warmth, books, and photographs of his travels, I push him toward the bed. “You stay here.”

I move to his wooden chair by his desk where his camera and proofs are. I bite my lower lip, heat gathering in my core and a tingling sensation spreading through my pussy as I sense his eyes on me.

I sit on the chair, which happens to be across from him, my bare ass and back gliding across the smooth surface. Ronan watches me closely, his gaze, sparking with lust, roving over my figure. It reminds me of the way Lawrence looked at me back in Carl’s office.

I watch Ronan get undressed. His black vintage Beatles tee goes first, his jeans next, and last but not least, his briefs. His cock, so hard, points toward his stomach. Ronan sits on the bed with his back against the headboard and his hardness in his hand, leisurely stroking himself.

A blatant smile on my lips, I spread my legs open and place them over the wooden arms. I’m completely exposed in this position as I cup my breasts, playing with them. The desire I see in his eyes is reassurance enough. It looks like he wants to do very bad, naughty things to me, and I am a more than willing victim. I want to be corrupted. I want to forget what happened with Lawrence. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t. My body still vibrates with the memory of his touch, his kiss, how it felt when his fingers touched me there.

“Watch me,” I say, trying to push memories of a green-eyed man out of my head.

Slowly, provocatively, I lower my hand to my pussy, spread my swollen lips apart, and rub my clit with the pad of my index finger. The slight pressure. The back and forth. The sweet humming of my senses as they come alive with my touch. God, I’m wet.

“Mmm, this feels good,” I taunt as I begin to fuck myself, spreading my legs wider for him to see my fingers disappear inside me. My head lolls back, the sensation of them moving in and out of me, impaling me, heady and powerful.

I rub myself.

I grind on my hand.

I feel filthy, but I love it.

The sound of our breathing, the feel of my fingers inside me, my wet pussy contracting around them, the smell of arousal in the room and knowing that Ronan is seeing me masturbate inebriates my senses.

I’m drunk with lust … with him.

Ronan begins to thrust harder into his hand. A smug, half smile on his lips, he watches me watch him pump his cock up and down in his fist, the pace increasing, his hold tightening. My mouth waters, the throbbing and swollen head inviting me to suck it.

“Would you like a taste?” I pull my soaked fingers out and suck them clean, tasting myself on them. “Mmm…” I moan. “So good.”

Ronan, the bastard, shakes his head as a smug smirk graces his face. “No, I’m good.”

And then, because I’m not one to deny myself of bodily pleasures, I decide I’ve had enough. I’m feverish with want and nothing but his beautiful cock will do.

I stand up, my legs stiff and fire burning through me, and walk back to bed. When I’m standing next to him, I put my nose below his ear and breathe in his aroma of man mixed with arousal. Noticing the way his muscles tense by my nearness makes me smile.

“Really?” I whisper, licking his ear.

With my back facing him, I crawl into bed on all fours. In this position, I’m primed for him to take me from behind, and that’s what I want. I want him to claim me in the most animalistic way. I want him to fuck the guilt out of me, and mark me as his own over and over again.

I glance back and wink at him saucily. Yes, it’s an invitation, or a dare, and one I hope he accepts. With one hand, I spread my ass cheeks, burying my middle finger in my opening, and show him exactly where I want him, where I need him.

Ronan doesn’t disappoint.

Our gazes connect, promises of the pleasure to come shining in them. Ronan kneels right behind me as he grabs a silver package from the nightstand, rips it open, and rolls it over his hardness.

He slaps my ass once, twice, making it sting just so he can soothe the pain with his tongue a second later. I watch him wet his right thumb with his mouth and lower it between the curves of my ass as he begins to glide the head of his cock against my entrance. He spreads open the folds of my pussy with it, coating himself in my desire, the tip caressing my clit. A purr escapes my mouth when I feel the rough skin of his thumb play with my forbidden place, teasing me, rubbing me to hell and back.

“Please,” I beg.

He shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his smile anymore. “Not yet.”

At that, I laugh out loud but it sounds more like a sob, my body shaking with need. He’s making me pay for my chair stunt.

“Ronan.” I pause when his thumb disappears inside me. I bite my lip and close my eyes momentarily as I feel him inching his way in. Pain becomes illicit pleasure, dizzying in its power. “Oh, God.”

Gently, he pulls out his finger, kisses my lower back, flips me over, and covers my body with his. “Like this.”

Holding my arms above my head with his hands, I wrap my legs around his waist as he enters me in one swift, deep thrust. His punishing hardness fills me to the hilt, making me cry in ecstasy. By now my need for him doesn’t burn—it sears through me.

But as he continues to take me, his hips pumping in and out of me, the familiar sense of unworthiness whenever I’m with him comes over me. The only difference this time is that I know I’m not worthy of him.

“Why me, Ronan?” I ask, grabbing his ass and pulling him deeper inside of me. The penetration so intense, I moan, feeling dizzy.

He stops thrusting, his pulsating cock buried inside me. “Because when I look at you, I see everything I want and everything I need.”

And then he proceeds to fuck the living daylights out of me.

“What are you doing over there?” I hear Ronan ask in a sleepy voice. “Come back to me. The bed still smells like you.”

I’m sitting on his chair by the window when he wakes up. I turn around to find a naked Ronan on his back, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. His wavy hair sticking out in every direction possible screams sex. I smile, pulling my legs closer to my chest, and shake my head no, looking out the window again.

I watch the early morning sun bathe buildings and the streets in light while people go about their business, ready to start their day. My eyes follow a couple walking, and I feel such despairing sadness come over me, erasing any trace of a smile off my face.

And I know why …

I grab a piece of my hair and begin braiding. “I’m just looking at the city … isn't it so dazzling, so free, so uninhibited?”

“I’ll show you free and uninhibited, baby.”

I slant my eyes in his direction, memorizing the way he’s looking at me, memorizing the way it feels to be with him. But when our gazes connect we break into laughter, filling the room with fleeting happiness.