Chapter 3: Green Satin, Galway Nights
The door clicked shut behind them, the soft snick
echoing louder than expected in the stillness of the candlelit room.
Sarah turned slowly, her green dress shimmering with every
movement. Mr. Salty stood across from her, eyes smouldering, as if the space
between them was charged with static. Neither of them moved at first. They
didn’t have to. The silence was its own kind of music.
And then, he was on her.
Their mouths collided with the urgency of two storms meeting
at sea — wild, heated, inevitable. His hands cupped her waist, pulling her into
him, and she gasped against his lips, feeling the strength in his arms and the
tremble in her own legs.
Buttons flew. Zippers gave way. The emerald dress slinked to
the floor in a soft whoosh, pooling around her heels like a surrendered
flag.
She stood before him in matching lace — green, sheer, daring
— and it was all he could do not to drop to his knees.
“You planned this,” he said, voice rough.
“I packed for every possibility,” she replied, breathing
heavily.
The bed behind them was untouched, innocent — for now.
He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his
waist, their mouths never separating. Sarah moaned into his neck, biting gently
at the skin, tasting wine and salt. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he
carried her across the room and laid her down on the sheets like she was
something rare and breakable.
But Sarah Byrne was anything but fragile.
She arched up to meet him, hands raking down his back as he
peeled away the last of her lingerie, revealing skin that glowed golden in the
candlelight. His lips traced fire along her collarbone, down to the soft curve
of her breasts, and she let out a long, ragged breath that turned into a deep,
throaty moan.
“Yes…” she whispered, then louder. “Yes. Right there.”
Galway outside was quiet. Inside their suite, it was
anything but.
Sarah's cries rose and fell like music — raw, beautiful,
unrestrained. Her fingers clutched at the sheets, then his back, then his hair,
her voice echoing off the stone walls.
He matched her rhythm for rhythm, touch for touch, every
move deliberate, every kiss laced with something deeper. It wasn’t rushed. It
wasn’t just lust. It was something that felt like both combustion and
connection.
"Say my name," he growled, breathless.
"Salty," she gasped, legs trembling. “Salty!”
She screamed it — not in fear, not in pain, but in release.
In wild, blissful surrender.
When it was over, they collapsed against each other, tangled
in the sheets, slick with sweat and laughter. Mr. Jinx — wisely — had retreated
to the bathroom and was now meowing at the door in protest.
"Think we scared the cat," Sarah whispered,
giggling.
"Think we scared the neighbours," Salty replied,
kissing her shoulder.
She turned to face him, fingers drawing lazy patterns across
his chest. “So... that was your plan all along?”
“Honestly? I didn’t plan a thing. But I knew the moment you
walked off that train wearing that dress — I was doomed.”
Sarah laughed again, cheeks flushed, heart full. “Well,
let’s call it mutual destruction.”
Outside, Galway slept on, unaware that two worlds had just
collided with enough heat to melt stone.
#BustierSarah #Chapter3Heat #GalwayNights
#MoansAndMemories #LoveUnleashed #MrSaltyStrikesAgain #SatinSheetsAndScreams
#CatNeedsTherapy #SpicyIrishRomance #BurningInGalway
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