I heard him give a short growl of appreciation, and then the toy was back. This time he moved my panties to one side and entered me with his fingers while he pressed the vibrator to my clit.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my hips bucking and pressing backward, needing him to be harder, needing the vibration higher. But he continued to tease me. He bit my bottom then licked the spot, tracing his tongue from my left butt cheek to my lower back.

“You’re so wet for me, Annie. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You want my big cock inside you. You want me to surround you and fill you up.” He removed his fingers and his toy, and I cried out, my sex clenching with no purchase.

“Yes, please, Mr. Fitzpatrick.” My breath hitched; my body was on fire and fighting the bonds. I needed him, his bare skin. I needed the contact and his silky heat. I was so empty.

“Then you’ll be mine. Say you’re mine, Annie.” I heard his zipper and then the soft sound of his pants falling to his knees. The bed depressed behind me, between my spread legs.

“I’m yours; please, I’m yours.”

I felt him grip the waistband of my panties just before I heard the distinct sound of his tearing them in two. I felt the head of his erection against my entrance, and I tried to push backward. He chuckled, though it sounded strained.

“Tell me I’m yours.”

“I—I’m yours.”

“No….” He moved himself so that his thick head drew a circle around my clit, spreading my arousal over both of us.

I groaned, arching my back until it was almost painful.

“No, say, Ronan, you are mine. Say it.”

“Ronan, you are mine; you are mine.” I swallowed the last word then bit my arm, needed to feel something. This limbo between sensual teasing and full-on fucking was making me crazy.

He pushed into me then, and I whimpered. He felt amazing, necessary. Ronan leaned forward, and I felt his chest—still clothed in his suit—against my back. For some reason, the fact that was I bare to him except for the skirt around my waist and he was still mostly dressed made me even hotter.

I could barely move except for tilting my hips back to meet his thrusts. He surrounded me, pinning me down, hovering over me, filling me. I didn’t last long, and I came with a strangled cry, saying his name, saying please and oh, God and yes.

“Perfect, my perfect girl. I love the way you come on my cock.”

I felt him lean away before I was quite finished, fitting one of his hands between my stomach and the mattress and lifting my hips. He fit the vibrator between my legs, dancing and tapping it against my clitoris, as he pumped in and out.

Then I came again, and it hurt so very, very good. It rocked me—it was an explosion of white heat and stars under my skin, streams of ecstasy and pleasure and pain rushing through my veins. It felt wild, blazing hot, and uncontrolled; and I had no choice but to abandon myself to it, my bound hands gripping fistfuls of the comforter, turning my face into the mattress to stifle my loud cries as tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.

I hadn’t recovered, tremors still wracking my body, as Ronan collapsed on top of me with a strangled groan of his own, my name on his lips.

Our heavy breathing mingled. I felt the thudding of his heart against my back. It matched mine.

I loved him.

I loved what we’d just done.

I wanted to do it every day. I wanted to wake up with him every day, see him, touch him, hear him laugh, listen to his stories, be shocked by his dirty mouth every single day.

He was worth losing my anonymity. I wanted to share everything with him.

I had to tell him the truth.

I was going to tell him the truth.

I just didn’t know how to tell him the truth because I didn’t want to lose him.

Chapter Twenty

@RonanFitz: My girlfriend is so pretty.

@Anniecat: @RonanFitz Hush now.

@RonanFitz: @Anniecat Come back to bed, love.

*Ronan*

All I wanted to do was lock myself away in the hotel suite with Annie. Unfortunately, the more people became aware that I was in the country, the more shit I got asked to do. Honestly, it was exhausting having to meet and greet and be sociable when all I wanted was to tie Annie to my bedpost and tease her body until she begged for release. But such was life. I wanted to get back on the team as soon as possible, and smiling for the cameras was the only way to speed the process along. When we went outside, we always had an audience of at least thirty photographers. It felt like living in a goldfish bowl.

We were on our way back from our final engagement, a charity dinner, and the organizers had hired a limo to take us to and from the hotel. It was only six thirty, but we’d shown our faces; and as eager as I was to be alone with Annie, I also wanted to sleep for at least ten hours. So, an early departure it was. She checked out the drinks cabinet and reclined back on the long seat, emitting a weary little sigh.

We stared at each other for a moment, smiling in contentment. I didn’t think I’d ever get over her smile. Her face. She was in my dreams and my thoughts. I was completely overrun by this woman, and there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and letting my eyes trail down her body. She looked just as exhausted as I was.

“What’s wrong, love? Is the day having trouble with what the night got up to?” I teased.

She let out the most adorable yawn I’d ever seen and pretended to scowl. “You’re a stupid sexy slave driver, Ronan Fitzpatrick. And my wrists hurt.”