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  • Home > Samantha Young > On Dublin Street Series > Fall From India Place (Page 64)     
    Fall From India Place(On Dublin Street #4)(64) by Samantha Young
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    The pressure of his erection heightened my arousal and I tried to press harder, my fingers digging into his back.

    Marco growled into my mouth and I swear I almost came, it was so hot.

    Then his lips were gone from mine, moving down my neck, across my chest, down my ribs, across my stomach, and he was lowering himself to his knees as his hands pressed my thighs apart.

    I watched, lost in my daze of utter need, as he licked me.

    “Oh, God,” I gasped. I threw my head back, his name a plea spilling from my lips over and over as he tortured me with light licks.

    Then his mouth found my clit.

    He circled it with his tongue.

    I climbed higher.

    He pumped two fingers inside me.

    I climbed even higher.

    I tensed.

    He sucked on my clit. Hard.

    I reached the top on a scream and then shattered, falling into blissful oblivion.

    Still shuddering through the remnants of my orgasm, I was barely aware of Marco standing up and yanking his zipper down. Within seconds he was gripping my thighs, and pulling me to the edge of the sideboard. My palms were flat on the piece of furniture, my arms braced a little behind me. It was a good thing too. I was steady and prepared when he thrust into me. Hard.

    I cried out, closing my eyes to savor the rough but pleasurable assault on my senses.

    “Look at me,” Marco demanded, his voice so thick with sex the words were clipped, the tone guttural.

    My eyes opened on command and our scorched gazes collided.

    My lips parted as he continued to f**k me, another orgasm building inside me, my arousal only increasing at the way he was watching me as he stroked inside me.

    “Yeah?” he panted, his hot eyes never once leaving mine.

    “Yeah,” I answered breathlessly.

    His grip on my legs became almost biting as his thrusts came faster. “You’ve got to come for me, babe.” He panted harder, a bead of sweat glistening on his forehead from the strain of holding back his own climax.

    “I’m coming,” I promised, jerking my hips in rhythm to his thrusts. “Baby, I’m coming, I’m com —” I tensed. Then over the precipice I fell again, crying out on my second orgasm, this one shorter and sharper than the last but no less brilliant.

    I shuddered against Marco as he continued to pump into me, my inner muscles squeezing around him.

    He stiffened, his grip on me almost painful.

    His eyes never left mine as he groaned through gritted teeth.

    “Fuck.” His hips jerked against me while he came.

    He let go of my right leg to kiss me deeply. I wrapped my legs around his hips, squeezing him closer as we kissed, loving the feel of him shuddering with little aftershocks.

    Gradually, as our muscles relaxed and the haze of desire began to clear, reality began to intrude upon us.

    I dropped my legs from his waist and pushed on his chest as I pulled my lips from his. I saw the consternation in his eyes but ignored it. “This doesn’t change anything,” I whispered, feeling the déjà vu of this moment from the first time we had sex three months ago. Except this time around there were no more secrets between us.

    Marco went from consternation to pissed. “You sure about that? Because by my count you just came twice. Once with my mouth and again with my dick. I’m pretty sure that means things have changed.”

    I scowled at him. “I obviously just need to get you out of my system.”

    His whole expression tightened. Now I’d pissed him way off. He put his hands on my thighs again and jerked me back to him, before sliding his hands under my arse and lifting me so I had to wrap my legs around his waist for purchase. I clung to his shoulders as he began to carry me down the hall to my bedroom.

    “What are you doing?” I snapped, trying to wriggle out of his grip and failing.

    Marco didn’t answer until we were in the bedroom and he’d dropped me none too gently on my bed. He pushed his jeans down and started kicking them off and I scrambled to get off the bed. Marco was too fast for me, though, grabbing my hands in his as he lowered his body over mine. He pressed my hands to the bed, holding me captive.

    “I guess I’ll be f**king you until I’m out of your system, then.”

    I narrowed my eyes and tried to push against his hold, to no avail. “You have to leave.”

    “Sex first.”

    My belly rippled at the thought, my appetite for him clearly insatiable. Sensing it, he looked smug.

    “Fine!” I gave in because… well, frankly, because I wanted him and I wasn’t thinking clearly. “But you can’t stay.”

    “I won’t,” he promised darkly, eyes on my lips. “But I’m going to make you come again before I leave.”

    And so he did.

    Brilliantly, I might add.

    He filled me up with his heat and lust and tenderness.

    However, as soon as we were finished, he was good as his word and he left the flat.

    Just like that, I was back to feeling empty.

    CHAPTER 24

    “Marco,” I said on a gasp, as he moved inside me.

    I was on my side, as was he. His warm hand was wrapped around me, kneading my breast, as he thrust up into me from behind.

    I came hard, crying out in satisfaction as I shook through my climax. A few seconds later Marco followed me, his hold on me tightening as he tensed and then groaned against the back of my neck as he found his own satisfaction.

    I lay there, trying to catch my breath and get hold of my senses.

    The soft touch of Marco’s lips on my shoulder drew me back into the room. He slid out of me and I felt the loss of his heat. Turning around, I watched as he climbed out of bed and started to get dressed.

    For two weeks we’d been doing this. Marco would turn up at my door, I’d let him in, and then we’d have sex until our bodies were weary and my heart was in even more turmoil than before. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from giving in to the sexual heat between us. But every time he left, I felt emptier. What we were doing, just sex, made a farce of what we’d had before.

    Tonight, however, was worse.

    Marco hadn’t even bothered to clean me up, as had become his ritual. It was something that I’d always found sweet.

    Watching him fasten the last button on his shirt, I recognized that he was agitated, perhaps even angry. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I didn’t want to encourage him into thinking that there was more here than there was. It was just sex. No matter how much that hurt.

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