Saving Liberty (Kissing #6) (55 page)

He paused there for a second, kissing me, and the feel of his tongue deep in my mouth, when his cock was so deeply buried inside me, was incredible. The size of his body as he hulked over me made me weak. His chest and shoulders blocked out most of the sky. I felt like some maiden, ravished by a god.

He started up a rhythm, moving faster, now. The concrete was hard under my bare ass, but the warm scratchiness of it felt good. Where I normally would have bucked and swirled my hips and fucked him back, I was forced to pin myself to the ground, lying there passively as he fucked me. It was a new experience for me, being so still. I’m not a shrinking violet when it comes to sex but now I had to be like some Victorian lady on her wedding night, staring at the ceiling and thinking of England.

Only I was staring into the most gorgeous pair of blue Irish eyes ever, and I most definitely wasn’t thinking of England. I was focusing on every exquisite pull and slide of his cock inside me, every grind of his groin against my clit. Each touch of his chest on my nipples shot fire through me. And it was all happening outdoors, where I could feel the breeze waft against my toes and the sun beat down on my bare legs. There was nothing I could do except lie there and take it all in.

As he sped up, he pushed my legs wider and lifted them a little with his forearms, opening me up more. I felt something change inside me, felt his cock reach some new place, and I let out a little growl of delight.

He leaned right down over me, his mouth close to my ear, and started to talk to me as he fucked me, a filthy litany made even better by his Irish accent. “Oh, you love that, don’t you? Being really opened up and fucked, nice and deep? God, I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long. In the ring. In the diner. Even at The Pit. And when your clothes were wet and I could see those perfect tits.”

The words flared and glowed inside my brain, feeding the growing heat.

“This is only the beginning, Sylvie. I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you. Understand?” He slowed his thrusts, punctuating his words with them, his lips drawn back into a grimace as he fought for control. “
Do...you...under...stand?
”

The heat was twisting and thrashing inside me, making my whole body quake.
“Yes!”
I managed. God, I didn’t want anything else. I’d escaped. In my mind, I’d escaped my whole shitty life with Rick and The Pit and Alec’s injuries. I’d escaped and found paradise and I didn’t want it to ever end. We’d find some room somewhere and lock the door and never come out again.

He sped up again, his powerful ass flexing, his thighs driving him into me, so hard and long and thick. I could feel it start and I dug my fingers into his back. Then it was on me and I was grabbing for him, clawing at him, wanting to wrap his whole body into me as the orgasm crashed through me in waves. He kept going, extending it, and only slowed to a stop when I lay still.

I took stock. I was panting and gasping, the echoes of the orgasm still ringing in my head. He was moving inside me just a tiny amount, the way men do when they’re still ready.

He was still ready.

I put my hand on his shoulder, marveling at its strength. “I need to go on top,” I said, my voice weak and croaky.

And
need
was right. I needed to move. Lying there like a ravished maiden was great, but now I needed to show him how I felt about
him.

He rolled over onto his back, frowning a little at the hard concrete and then giving me an apologetic look, like,
Oh wow, is this what it was like for you?
And I smiled.

I threw one leg over him, straddling him. He looked up at me and I had a moment of panic as I realized I was opening my legs wide, right in front of him, in broad daylight. It felt weird, feeling the air blowing through the little curls of hair, feeling it cooling the wetness there. Weird, but wonderful. Because he was looking at me with such an expression of pure, undiluted lust that it chased all my fears away.

I knelt with a knee either side of him and put one hand on his chest, unable to stop myself running it over the smooth expanse of his pec. I began to slowly lower myself, using the other hand to bring the throbbing head of him to the lips of my sex. When it touched me, I couldn’t help staying there for a moment, just running it back and forth over my folds. He groaned good-naturedly and raised his hips, thinking I was teasing him. But I just wanted to feel him there, so hot and alive and ready.

I sank down on him, closing my eyes and arching my back as he spread me wide and plunged into me. It felt different, now I was the one in control. Bigger, almost—I could feel every inch of him. Wonderfully big.

I slid right down onto him until our bodies met and began to pump myself on top of him, using my legs to power me up and down. His hands went to my waist and he started to help, lifting me a little, but I shook my head. I pushed his hands away...and then pressed them down to the concrete. It was comical, my little hands against his huge wrists—he could easily have batted me away. But he didn’t. He just grinned up at me and played along—for now.

I started to fuck him, bouncing up and down, sliding my body along that magnificent cock. Sitting up, I knew my head might be visible above the wall—we’d edged closer to it, when we rolled over. But I didn’t care. If someone passing in the street glanced up and saw us, let them watch.

I put both hands on his chest, smoothing them over his muscles as if I was sculpting him. His cock was silk and iron inside me, filling every part of me on each in-thrust, leaving me empty and aching as it slid out. I could feel my shins and knees grinding against the roof—God, I was going to have bruises tomorrow. But I didn’t care about that, either.

I sped up, arching my back as the pleasure built and built, feeling the sweat trickling down my spine, feeling it wet on his chest. And now he reached for me, unwilling to be passive any longer. He filled his hands with my breasts and started pinching at my nipples, making me buck and shake atop him. He drew me down into a kiss. My hips went frantic as I fucked and fucked him while he tongue-fucked my mouth and stretched my nipples just enough to—

The climax rocketed through me and exploded. I let go of his chest and grabbed his head, pulling myself closer, gasping and panting into his mouth. My hips pressed hard against him, mashing our groins together. I clenched and spasmed around him and felt his first hot release, followed by another and another. He growled and broke the kiss and bit at my neck as he shot into me, bucking his hips upward so hard he lifted both of us.

And then he slumped down and I slumped on top of him, stretching my legs out. We were both soaked with sweat and aching and probably bruised from the hard roof, and we didn’t care at all.

We lay there for a long time, letting the sun dry us, neither of us wanting to think about practicalities like where all our clothes had wound up. I lay with my head on his chest, the warmest and most comfortable pillow I’d ever found in my life. I never wanted to move.

“You’re in me, Sylvie,” he muttered at last. “In my head. In my feckin’ soul. I need you.”

I put my arms around him and hugged him tight. “I need you, too,” I whispered.

“I don’t think I can hit you again,” he said.

I pressed my lips tight together. All I wanted was for both of us to walk away from all this. To be two normal people in a normal relationship. Why couldn’t we have that? What had we done so wrong, that we deserved this instead?

But being normal wasn’t an option for us. “You have to,” I told him. “You have to hit me...and more. You have to get me ready. Or I’ll die in The Pit.”

He went silent for a long time, his arms tightening around me. But eventually, he nodded.

***

It was only when we’d showered and got into our street clothes and I checked my phone that I found the message. Sent an hour before, just as we were finally breaking down the barriers between us.

It was from Rick. He wanted me to come to The Pit that night.

It was time to meet my opponent.

Aedan

I needed someplace quiet to talk to Sylvie, so I sprang for a cab to take us to The Pit. In the back seat, I held her hand and pep-talked her.

“It’s not a fight,” I said. “Not really. More of a preview. You’ll go a round or two, but no one wants anyone to get badly hurt. It’s just a chance for the crowd to see who’s coming up in two weeks, so they can start placing bets.” The last two words made me sick to my stomach. Rich suits, throwing fistfuls of hundred dollar bills at the unlicensed bookies, betting on who would walk away. Betting on my angel.

She’d never looked more beautiful. The sunset was streaming through the windows of the cab, bathing everything in fire. She looked so small and fragile, sitting there in her tank top and sweatpants. She’d been so nervous, I’d had to remind her to bring something to put on over the top, because it would get cold once the sun went down. Now she clutched the hooded top in her hands, scrunching the fabric between them.

“It’s normal,” I told her. “Rick does it whenever it’s a brand new fighter.”
So why hadn’t I seen it coming?
I felt like an idiot. I was meant to be preparing her for all this and I’d completely missed it. I’d been too busy laying her down on the damn rooftop.

Our whole relationship had just seismically shifted and, thanks to Rick, we didn’t even have time to talk about it. Maybe that was for the best. I never was much good at talking.

I quit beating myself up long enough to think about tactics. Should we pretend she hadn’t been training? Lull them into a false sense of security? Rick knew me. If he saw me, would he guess I’d been training her?

Should I stay away, so that Rick didn’t suspect? Part of me thought I should. Another part wondered if that was just an excuse, and I just couldn’t bear to see her get hurt.

No. No way.
I couldn’t leave her alone now. I was going to be there, every step of the way.

And there was another reason to be there. I’d come up with a plan, something that might just get Sylvie out of the fight altogether. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but if it saved her from fighting...

I squeezed her hand and she smiled at me, hiding her fear.

I smiled back, doing the same.

Sylvie

It was a smaller crowd, but meaner. The hangers-on didn’t get told about events like this. Only the hardcore, the ones who bet serious money, got the discreet text message telling them there was fresh meat to view.

I took a deep breath and walked towards the door, trying to look nonchalant. But The Pit had never been a welcoming place for women and what happened to me last time I was there made it even harder. Stepping out of the twilight and into the dark, warm interior was like stepping into hell...especially since I’d soon be heading down to the lower level.
Nothing like that’s going to happen this time,
I told myself. Except that, in some ways, this would be worse. My near-rape was something I could be saved from. This fight—that Aedan reassured me wouldn’t involve me actually getting hurt—was something that
had
to happen.

I was hoping I could pass unnoticed in the crowd, hoping that everyone would presume I was just the girlfriend of some spectator until the actual fight. Everything, I realized, would depend on whether Rick had hinted to the audience what would be different about these fighters. If they knew they were coming to see women….