Easy Virtue (18 page)

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.

With the laughter dying, leaving what feels like the beginning of a gap between us, Ronan sobers up, and adds, his voice like liquid velvet, "Come here, baby. I need you."

“Nu-uh. I know what you want and I'm tired,” I lie.

“If you don’t get your cute little ass back here, I’m coming to get you.”

I want to tell him to come and get me, but I’m afraid that my voice will betray me, so I just shake my head and continue to stare out the window, braiding my hair. Before I know it, a hand is reaching for mine, helping me to stand up, and I’m enveloped in a choking embrace. Without saying a word, I bury my face in his chest, feeling his skin soft as silk against my cheek, and breathe in his smell. I can also hear the beating of his heart, and like a lullaby it helps to soothe me. After a couple of minutes pass by in silence, our breathing the only sound in the room, Ronan places a hand under my chin and makes me look at him.

“I got something for you.”

“You did? Why?”

He lets me go, walking toward his nightstand. “Just because.” He retrieves a package and makes his way back to me.

“Because why? How?”

He smiles an impish smile that makes him look so much younger than he is. “Just open it, Blaire.”

The memory of what it felt like kissing Lawrence flashes through my mind. “But I don’t deserve it.”

“Let’s agree to disagree on that, shall we?”

“But—”

“Shh. Will you stop being so stubborn for once and just let me give you something?”

I purse my lips as I stare at him with daggers in my eyes. “I hate you sometimes, you know?”

Ronan laughs out loud. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

I’m about to tell him he’s so full of himself when he raises his hand. “Nope. I won’t hear it. Open the gift first, then you can continue telling me how much you hate me.”

“You suck.”

I look down at the small package in my hands, the wrapping paper a soft purple. Smiling, I unwrap the gift, and as the paper falls on the floor completely forgotten, I uncover a Hello Kitty watch. The beating of my heart comes to a full stop as I stare at the dial. There’s an ache in my chest and butterflies in my stomach.

“You remembered,” I whisper softly.

It’s not the same as the one I wanted my parents to get me—it’s better. This is probably the most unassuming and least expensive gift I’ve ever received, but as my vision begins to blur from tears, I know that it’s priceless.

My hands trembling, I stare at the gift when I feel his hand under my chin, gently tipping it up until our eyes meet. And the way he’s looking at me …

Oh, the way he’s looking at me is what love poems are written about.

“How could I forget?” he says softly.

My chest is full of emotions—good, bad, and confusing. It feels as though it might burst with the intensity of it all. And if I had any questions as to whether I was falling for him or not, they are completely answered at this moment.

I am.

Hard.

I look up as I fight the tears that threaten to spill over, ready to thank him, but the words get stuck in my throat.

“Damn. My purpose of giving you that watch was to see you smile, not make you cry.”

He reaches for the watch, but I slap his hand away and cradle the gift close to my chest. “Don’t even think about it! I love it.”

“Then what made you look so sad?”

“No … it wasn’t that. It’s just the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.” I pause, losing myself in his eyes. “Thank you, Ronan. Thank you so much.”

“Here, let me put it on you.”

Ronan takes the gift away from my hands and puts the watch on my wrist.

“So you really like it?”

As I stare at his gift, memories of my childhood, of broken dreams, and of the past few weeks spent with him swirl in my head: Ronan, my parents, happiness and heartache, tears and laughter, loneliness and companionship.

The memory of a particular dream I used to have all the time as a little girl fleets back, flooding my entire being with physical pain. In that dream, I’m holding my mom’s hands as we spin in circles as fast as our legs would allow us. The speed of our bodies propelled us to go faster and faster with each turn, while colors and shapes became a blurred rainbow around us. Careless and free, we threw our heads back laughing as hard as the forever young—the easy moment feeling magical. I shouldn’t have been able to see my dad, but because it was a dream, I knew he was watching us. Reclined lazily against a tree, a smile on his attractive face, he didn’t look drunk as he usually did. Instead, his clothes were immaculate, his black hair smoothed to the side. But it was what I saw in his blue eyes that I loved the most. They sparkled with love for both his wife and daughter. And at that moment, when our eyes connected, my mom’s sweet laugh filling my ears, I knew I was loved.

I knew I was loved.

But then I would wake up, finding myself on a cold bed in an empty room. I would touch my cheeks and find that they were wet because I was crying in my dreams.