Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Irish’s arm curled over her waist. Her back was to his chest, and his hard cock was pushing against her ass.

Although he was asleep and his body was reacting to her closeness, she couldn’t stop from wiggling her ass against it.

His fingers flexed on her stomach, but he didn’t wake.

It didn’t surprise her that he was sleeping hard. After he’d wrung out three orgasms from her, he’d collapsed beside her.

She’d drifted off with his breath against her cheek and his arms protecting her, like they were now.

Cass needed to see him, so she rolled over .

Instead of finding him asleep, she drowned in his azure eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were awake,” she whispered.

Irish’s answer was to tug her closer so their bodies aligned, and his dick rested against her belly. “I wasn’t until a little nymph rubbed her ass against him .”

Cass drew a lazy pattern on his chest. “Is that right? You should tell that nymph off.”

“I think I can come up with a better idea.” He didn’t give her a chance to think up a smart comeback. His mouth slammed over hers.

This was what she’d wanted when she’d woken and found him ready for action.

Irish rolled her to her back, and he hovered over her.

She was more than ready for him to possess her body, but if she’d learned anything last night, it was that Irish always made sure she was more than ready for him, and he ensured her pleasure came before his.

His mouth trailed across her jaw, then down her neck, before worshipping one breast and the other.

Cass’s body tingled as the overnight growth on his cheeks brushed against her tender flesh.

What would it be like to feel his whiskers on her inner thighs?

A rush of wetness pooled between her legs at the thought.

“What are you thinking?” he murmured against her belly.

Had he felt her body’s reaction to her thoughts or was he that intuitive and that attuned to how her body reacted?

Not that it mattered, but last night Cass had found her voice and told him what she wanted and how she wanted it. It’d been empowering, and Irish had been more than happy to fulfil her desires.

“I want to feel your scruff against my thighs. I want you to make me come with your mouth.”

Normally, words like that would embarrass her, but today they didn’t.

“Hmm, I like the way you think.” He smirked.

Irish kissed his way down her belly and put his mouth over her slick folds.

She arched up, allowing him deeper access.

The combination of his tongue licking her, his mouth sucking her clit, and the roughness of his whiskers against her thighs pushed Cass over the edge before she really had time to enjoy it.

Instead of slowing his assault on her body as she climaxed, Irish kept up the sweet torment, and another orgasm slammed into her, leaving her breathless .

Her whole form was still quivering from her two quick releases when he slid into her.

Her finger dug into his shoulders, and he stilled.

“Fuck, the way your pussy is clenching around me is going to make me come.”

Cass wanted Irish to lose control. To shed the mask he wore around people. She wanted him to be himself with her. For the most part, he was, but there was still a little bit of control he clung to, and she planned to make him lose it.

She undulated and tightened her inner muscles, delighting in the sound of his groan.

He began to move with long, languorous strokes, then switched to short, sharp ones.

Her body was on fire. Cass hooked her legs around his waist, deepening his penetration. Sensations in the base of her spine were building—and she let them. Wanted them to consume her.

Having Irish in her arms was the culmination of years of aching. The second she’d seen him, he’d intrigued her, and that one night they’d spent together? She’d treasured it deeply, until now.

Until the last couple of days when their relationship shifted.

Strengthened. Deepened .

What she wanted to say lodged in her throat as she came again, so hard words were impossible anyway.

Above her, Irish shouted out her name as he buried himself balls deep within her. His cock pulsed his release against her inner walls.

Cass clung to him as they both came down from the heights of their combined release.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and she rested her head against his chest.

The rapid tattoo of his heartbeat filled her ears. Her eyes drifted closed.

In Irish’s arms, she was safe, and that was a feeling she didn’t want to lose.

The next time she woke, Cass was alone in the bed. The sheets where Irish had been lying were cold.

How long had she been asleep?

How long had Irish been awake?

She didn’t want to get out of bed. She was surrounded by Irish’s scent, so she buried herself deeper under the covers. It was Sunday, and she didn’t have to be anywhere. When was the last time she’d done nothing on a Sunday?

So long ago that she couldn’t remember it.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up.” Irish’s voice floated through the barrier of the covers.

“It’s still early,” she mumbled, having no idea what the actual time was.

“It’s eleven.”

Cass tossed the covers back and sat up abruptly. “Eleven. As in eleven a.m? As in the hour before midday?”

Never before had she slept so late. Granted, Irish had kept her up for most of the night and then they’d had the early morning session, but still, she usually only slept five hours max.

He chuckled. “Yes, to all of that. I’ve got coffee.” He was holding a steaming mug.

“Give it. Please.” At least she remembered her manners.

“Lucky you said the magic word.” Irish placed the cup on the bedside table. He leaned over and kissed her softly. “Good morning, Cass,” he murmured when he pulled away.

His musky scent filled her nostrils, and her body heated, remembering how good it was to have that smell curl around her as he filled her body.

“As much as I’d like to join you, you need to get up,” Irish said. While his eyes might be light and the hint of his earlier laughter lingered, his voice had turned from teasing to serious.

Cass tucked the sheet under her arms and grabbed her coffee, needing the shot of caffeine to face whatever he was about to tell her. “What’s going on?”

“Hound called in. There’s more movement at the house where the two guys who’d tailed us are holed up.”

“My uncle?” Even saying that word seemed foreign. Gomez Ramirez was anything but her uncle. Except by blood, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Irish shook his head. “Javier Hernandez, his right-hand man, arrived in town. Gomez is probably sending him to do his dirty work.”

“Maybe.” Cass sipped her coffee, then set back it on the table. “From what I remember, he’s done whatever Gomez wanted. He made his way up the ladder. Proven himself to be a loyal servant.”

“I imagine someone in his position would have a lot of information. If we can somehow get him alone, maybe we can find out what Ramirez’s plans are. Or maybe encourage him to convince your uncle he needs to keep his hands off you and to crawl back into the hole he came out of. And then, we can destroy them all.” Irish’s eyes were icy blue chips, and his voice lower and gruffer than anything she’d ever heard come out of him.

If both had been directed at her, she’d be making a hasty retreat, but they weren’t. Besides, Irish would never hurt her.

“Do you think Javier is going to give up that information easily? There’s a reason he’s where he is in the organization,” Cass said.

“I know, but it’s worth a try.”

Irish was probably wasting his time, but his chin jutted out in defiance and she didn’t bother trying to reason with him.

“Let me shower, and then we can head to the office. I’m assuming everyone will be there.”

“Yes. I’ve got a breakfast sandwich made for you to have on the way,” he said.

If he was closer, she would’ve dragged him down to the bed and kissed him, but if she did that, then the chances of them leaving any time soon wouldn’t happen. No matter how badly she wanted to sample his mouth. The look in his eyes—no longer harsh—said he felt the same way.

They stared at each for endless seconds before Irish stormed over to the bed and captured her lips possessively.

She moaned and clutched his shirt.

Would it really matter if they were a bit late?

As though he’d read Cass’s mind, Irish pulled back. “We’re putting a pin in this, and revisiting it when we get back.”

“I can live with that.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before he stepped away and walked out of the room.

Cass fell back to the pillows, wishing for the first time in a long time, that her presence wasn’t required in the office.