Irish Bear's Enemy (Boston Bear Brothers 4)

“God, that is so good,” she mewed as he increased the friction against her now-hardened pink nub.

“Come for me, Maeve. I love feeling you explode against my fingers,” he breathed against her neck, moving upward to tug on an earlobe with his teeth.

She wasn’t holding back, losing herself to the movements of his hand, allowing her body to take over and enjoy the sensations. Ronan knew her body like it was his own, touching her exactly where she needed and precisely how she needed him to without direction. The friction of his calloused fingers on her extremely sensitive parts sent her over the edge, her hand gripping the handrail to one side to steady herself against the force of her orgasm.

“Good girl,” he said, but he didn’t stop there, milking her pussy until she was weak-kneed from coming into his palm and then pushing her forward so that her ass was at an angle to his throbbing cock.

His hands wrapped around her waist, easily lifting her smaller body upward and positioning her so that her aching gap was in just the right place. Moving forward, he braced one leg against the side of the tub and entered her at a slight angle, hitting just the right spot to put her back on the edge of ecstasy. He rocked his body back and forth, ever so slowly and gently, letting her enjoy the sensations for a moment before plunging to her depths with his full length.

“Ummph,” was all she managed as he seemed to hit bottom.

“God, you’re so tight. Your pussy was created for my cock. It just wraps around me and milks me with every stroke,” he grunted.

Their bodies bounced back and forth, his cock pounding into her forcefully as she screamed and begged for more.

“Harder, Ronan. Fuck me harder.”

“Keep going. Tell me what you want,” he replied, pushing himself fully inside her and reaching around to stroke her clit again. His hips ground forward, packing his cock fully into her and rolling it about enough to drive her mad.

She was no longer the least bit articulate as he began alternating between this slow grinding and fucking her so hard that she was still having to brace herself against the wall.

“God, I’m coming,” he moaned, thrusting hard and fast as he got closer to his own climax. “Arrrrrgh.”

His motions slowed as he released inside her and remained there for a moment. Finally, he pulled free and helped her up from her partially bent position, returning her earlier favor of washing him by cleaning her with the sponge and some shower gel.

Maeve could feel how sore her pussy was as he stroked it with the sponge, cleaning away any deposits he had left behind. He finished by washing her hair and kissing her before they got out to dry off. She glanced at the clock, barely able to believe they had been in there for over thirty minutes.

“I’m glad you came back to me,” she said as they got dressed.

“I’m glad I did too,” he replied, kissing her softly on the lips.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ronan

“I found an ad for a used truck over in Red Bank. You want to go with me to look at it?” Maeve asked.

“Of course. You don’t think I’m going to let you go over to New Jersey to meet some stranger by yourself, do you?” Ronan replied.

“You’re so overprotective,” she replied.

“You know you adore it.”

“I do. I adore you too.”

“And I love you,” he told her, zeroing in for a kiss, but she stopped him.

“No time, Alpha. We’ve got to get on our way.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I’ll make it up to you later, big boy,” she laughed.

“I’ll take you up on that.”

The drive to Moseley was quick with hardly any traffic as they roared down the highway in the new Mercedes he’d bought since they’d settled in. Maeve had been reluctant to join him in Boston, not wanting to leave the tranquility of the farm, so Becky had let him move in with her there as long as he promised to help out around the place.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever had a renter and farmhand driving around in a Merc before,” she laughed.

“I guess I could buy a truck,” he teased.

“Somehow, I don’t think a truck would suit you,” she said.

Ronan cocked his head to one side, not sure if it was a compliment or an insult. He chose not to pursue it further. As the weeks had gone by, he actually found that he liked it here on the farm.

He went back to Boston several days a week, and Maeve went with him when she could, but she’d recently enrolled in school, getting a visa as a student and pursuing culinary sciences, something she’d gained an interest in since Becky had been teaching her to cook.

“Are you sure this is the right place? I don’t see any sort of transport van,” he said as they arrived at their destination later on that morning.