Lust Is the Thorn (11 page)

She stopped breathing, but nodded frantically. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl.” I lowered my body onto hers, dragging my
skin
over her
skin
, relishing every second of contact. Nibbling the spot right above her brown curls, I locked eyes with her. “And good girls get rewarded.”

“Hell yeah, they do.” She again buried her hand in my hair, tugging painfully, but also pushing my face closer to her core.
“Do it.”

I lowered my head between her thighs, took a deep breath, and traced her slit with one finger. She was soft, and pink, and wet, and
mine
. She watched me, nostrils flared, as I touched her. “You have no idea how many times I've imagined this,” I said.
How many times I've tried to deny wanting this.
“Rose…”

I rolled my tongue over her clit. She dug her heels into the floor and lifted her hips, her fingers threading through my hair. A breathy cry escaped her, and she rocked against me, every jerky motion screaming for me to take her where she needed to go—where I needed to go, too.

After squeezing her nipples between my fingers one last time, I slid my hands under her butt, lifting her, and dug my fingertips into the soft flesh there. She pressed against my fingers even more, seeming to enjoy the roughness, and rolled her hips in a figure eight. I deepened my intimate kiss, taking her higher.

Needing
her to go higher.

“Harder. Faster. I'm going to—” She yanked on my hair, her whole body tensing.
“Yes.”

She collapsed against the rug, goose bumps all over her flesh, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She seemed to think I was finished with her—when I had only just started. Tightening my hold on her, I hauled her hips back up to where I wanted her and thrust my tongue inside her, curling it just right, and she gasped. Slowly, her hand left my hair, and she pushed against my forehead with her good hand, almost as if she couldn't handle more, but I knew better. I pressed even closer, closing my mouth over her sensitive clit again, gently rolling my tongue over her.

She stopped pushing me away and pulled me closer, a ragged moan escaping her. “Oh my—you're
killing me
.”

My only response was to roll my tongue over her harder, scraping my teeth against her wet flesh, too. She screamed, pounded my shoulder, and pumped her hips against my mouth and tongue desperately. I slapped the side of her thigh once, and she convulsed, her hips straining against me as she came again. She fell back to the floor, tears running down her face, and threw her hand over her head in what had to be, hands down, the most effortlessly seductive thing I'd ever seen.

Her slim body twisted and turned as she basked in the aftermath of her orgasms, and there was no way I could wait another second to bury myself inside her. Gritting my teeth, I stood and grabbed the condom sleeve, holding the opposite corners to rip it open.

She held a hand up, lurching into a sitting position. “Wait!”

I raised a brow. “For?”

“Me.” She rose to her knees unsteadily, resting her hand on my upper thigh, dangerously close to my painfully hard cock. “May I have a turn?”

I froze, knowing that if she wrapped her mouth around me, I might die….

But I didn't stop her.

I stared up at him, waiting for a sign that he was okay with me giving him a blow job. I mean, with any other guy, it wouldn't even be a question. But this was Thorn, and we weren't even supposed to be
doing
this, and I didn't want to take it further than he was comfortable going—though after what he'd just done to me, something told me he was willing to go pretty damn far.

He flexed his jaw, buried his hands in my hair, and urged me closer. That was all the sign I needed. Wrapping my fingers around the shaft, I flicked my tongue over the tip of his cock. He groaned, the cords in his muscles tightening, and lowered his head so he could watch. I was used to men closing their eyes, but him keeping his open made perfect sense. After all, this was the only time he was letting himself have me.

Before he took his vows and was lost to me forever.

It gave tonight a sacredness, and this was the closest I'd ever been to experiencing something on a spiritual level. It was as if the two of us were connected in some way, and he was mine, and nothing—not even a white collar—would ever change that. But he wasn't actually mine. He was God's.

And that made this whole thing even worse.

I closed my mouth over him, rolling my tongue across the head of his cock, and sucked. “Rose.” He let out the rawest, most guttural moan I'd ever heard before. Sweat rolled down his face, and he tightened his grip on my hair.
“More.”

There was such authoritative command to his voice that there was no question about obeying him. My body responded to the orders he gave in ways I'd never felt before. I wanted to please him, to obey him, and that was an entirely new sensation for me. I'm not exactly the
obedient
type. I'm a Gallagher.

I took more of him in my mouth, as much as I could, just like he asked, and I sucked hard. He pumped his hips gently, pulling out ever so slightly before thrusting back in. His lids drifted down, but he watched me from under them. He was so lost in wonder, his face lax and softer than I'd ever seen it before, and he watched me with a tenderness I'd never seen in his eyes.

Like maybe he felt the connection between us, too.

“Christ.”
Crumbling, he thrust into my mouth, letting out a strangled groan. He massaged my scalp as he fucked my mouth, each thrust precisely timed and measured so he never gave me more than I could hold. He pumped his hips one last time and fisted my hair, yanking on it. “I'm going to come. You have to—
Rose
.”

I sucked on him even harder, wrapping two fingers around him and pumping my hand on his shaft. He stopped trying to pull me off and tightened his hold on my hair instead, thrusting into me one more time, every muscle in his body flexing and hardening as he spurted inside my mouth. I swallowed every drop, slowly releasing him from my mouth.

“Holy—” He broke off, grabbed the condom, and rolled it on his still-hard cock. “On your back. Legs apart.
Now
.”

I gaped at him, since he'd
literally
just come. “Already? Are you able to—?”

“Rose, I haven't had sex for almost eight years, and all I've thought about every night is fucking you like this.” He curled his hand behind the nape of my neck, holding on to me possessively as his hand dipped between my legs, roughly tracing a circle around my clit. “If you think I'm going to end the night without burying myself deep inside you, you're about to get one hell of a surprise, sugar.”

His mouth melded with mine, and he lowered me to the floor with tender care. The second I was settled, he slid between my legs, lifted me up with a palm under my ass, and positioned himself at my entrance. For a second he paused, almost as if he was treasuring the moment, and then he thrust himself inside me with one hard, long stroke.

I'd never felt so much, so fast, as I did with
him
.

Just having him inside me, filling me, brought tears to my eyes, and I wrapped my body around him as best I could, wishing I never had to let go. His lips faltered against mine, but he pressed closer, pulling out of me and thrusting inside again, even harder. We both groaned, straining to get even closer. There was no such thing as being close enough to this man. Not when it came to Thorn McKinney.

He let go of my ass and skimmed his hands up my body, closing them around my breasts as he pumped his hips. I cried out, letting him take me higher and higher till I wasn't sure if I would ever come back down again. He rolled his thumbnails over my nipples, scraping them roughly, and then framed my face with both hands, holding me as if I were a prized possession. And in his arms?

I felt like one.

He rolled his tongue over my piercing as he kissed me, fucking me with hard, long strokes that hit places I'd never known existed. Even as he fucked me, showing me no tenderness or mercy, he somehow managed to make me feel cherished at the same time. I clung to him as best I could with a splint on my arm, unable to do anything more than hang on for the ride. The things he made me feel, the things he made me
want,
were too much to handle. Choking on a cry, I dug my heels into his ass, seconds from coming again, and not sure I could live through it this time….

And 100 percent okay with that risk.

His kiss softened, his lips moving over mine almost reverently, and he slammed into me. I came, harder than I'd ever come before, and it was like everything around me exploded in a burst of colors and pleasure. Thorn groaned and came, too, his hard body going even harder over mine before he collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily. I buried my face in his shoulder, not wanting to see the realization of what we'd done darken his face. Because once it did…

He'd regret us.

No matter what he said.

“I…” He lifted himself on an elbow. I could sense him staring at me, but I kept my face averted, waiting for him to say something.
Anything
. “Rose?”

I swallowed hard. My throat was dry, I ached between my legs, and my lips were swollen, but I had never been so deliciously spent before. “Yeah?”

“Look at me.” He touched my chin, holding on to it lightly, and turned my face toward him. I let him, still avoiding his gaze. I focused on his cheek, right under his left eye, where the bruise I'd given him was fading. It was a good cheek. Hard. Sexy. Relentless. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes.” I let out a small laugh. “I'm great. Feel like a million bucks.”

“Don't joke about it.” His tone was hard, but his touch had never been softer. “I hurt you, didn't I? I went too far.”

“What?” Surprise had me finally looking at him. His jaw was hard, and his nostrils flared, but otherwise he seemed completely unemotional. “No. Why would you think you did?”

“I lost control.” He had a melancholy emptiness in him, one that called to me more than ever before, and I longed to crawl inside him and fill all those empty spots that so clearly haunted him. “Something took over inside of me, something I didn't recognize.”

“I did.” I touched his jaw, running my knuckles over it like he had mine. His stubble was soft to the touch. “It was you. Just you…and me. Together. And it was
beautiful
.”

That emptiness, those hard lines of worry, faded, and he dropped his forehead to mine, taking a deep breath. “The most beautiful thing I've ever been a part of. Rose…”

“Shh. You don't have to say it. I already know. Tonight was perfect.” I bit my lip and forced a calm expression to my face. “And I don't want, or expect, anything more than what we just had. You don't need to worry.”

He cocked a brow. “So now you read my mind, too?”

“Yeah.” I lifted a shoulder. “Was I right?”

He cleared his throat. “Yep.”

“Then I stand by my statement.”

He skimmed his fingers over my cheek. “You're okay?”

“Of course. What's not to be okay about?”

Flexing his jaw, he said, “I wish—”

I pressed a finger to his mouth, cutting him off. Whatever he was about to say would only hurt me in the end. “There's no point in wishing, or in thinking of what could have been, or what we're missing out on. We're here right now, and we're happy in this moment, so that's all that matters. Why tarnish this perfect moment with all that?”

He watched me. “That's all you need? This moment?”

“Yep.” I forced a smile. “Somewhere in another world, maybe there's another version of us who can be together, but maybe there's not. In another life, if we had been born into different worlds, maybe we could have been together. Maybe we could have been in love, and made this thing work between us. But in this life, with these versions of us? We can't. You're meant for another life. And that's okay. I'm okay with that.”

He swallowed hard and kissed me, his lips lingering over mine as if he knew, too, that this would be our last one. When he pulled back, he stared down at me with so much longing it stole the breath right out of my chest. “Sometimes, I can't help it. I wonder what might have been.”

“What might have been is over. It's dead. Your future is carved out, and I'm so proud of you. So fucking proud. There's no doubt in my mind that you're on the right path. That you're meant to be a priest. That you were called to this life to guide people in ways that we should have been guided as kids. To save them.”

His grip on me tightened, and he turned away. “That's exactly what I want to do. I never told you that, did I?”

“I don't know. Maybe I just knew it, because I know you so well.” I forced a smile. “You've worked so hard, for so many years, and you're close to achieving your dream. So don't think for a second I wish for something else. I don't. I won't.”

He turned back to me, his eyes blazing with so much emotion—emotion
I
couldn't read. “And the job I got you? The apartment?”

“I'll take both. I'll do that for you, because I know this is a way of making sure I'm okay before you take your vows, and go to whatever parish they assign you to.” I rested my palm against his cheek, and widened my smile despite the pain rocking through me. I was letting him go. I loved him, and I was sending him away. “So you can let go of this part of your life and accept the next chapter.”

He shook his head, his hard façade fading away for a second, and ran his thumb over my lower lip, his face lit up with wonder and confusion. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank
you
.” I kissed his finger, and caught his hand with mine, squeezing it. “I have one condition, though.”

“What?”

“When you think back on tonight, on this weekend, remember it with a smile. Remember the way we felt, the things we said, and know they were true. Every single word. And that maybe, in some other life, we didn't say goodbye. Maybe, in some other life, we're
happy
.”

“Yeah.” His Adam's apple bobbed, and he lowered his body over mine again, hugging me closer and hiding his face. “I promise.”

We both fell silent, and as he held me tenderly, our breath matching, I let myself picture all the things we could have been, if we were indeed someone else. I pictured myself in church, with him standing at the end of the aisle smiling. He wore a black tux with a crisp white shirt, no clerical collar in sight, and I was covered from head to toe in white satin and lace. And that other me?

God, she was so fucking happy.

But I wasn't
her,
and that version of Thorn I saw in my head wasn't
him,
and I would never get that. I'd known that going in, and I accepted it. He was meant for greater things than being my man. Extraordinary things. And I wouldn't be the one to hold him back. I loved him too much for that.

So I had to let him go.