13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
E mma
Whatever scream or protest I have dies in my mouth.
When the door initially opened, I froze on my way out of the bathroom wondering if it was an intruder.
Break-ins in Laketown are relatively rare. In a small town like this, where everyone knows everyone, it's pretty hard to commit a crime and come away unscathed. With all the gossips we have, the culprit would be caught by midday. Hence, it's a relatively safe town. It wasn’t until I went to school in California that I experienced a break-in.
And that was the single most terrifying event of my life.
It was so traumatizing that I then made the habit of always locking my doors and bolting the windows when I was home. The habit persisted even when I came back the Laketown, but the longer I stayed the more the safety made me complacent.
I started leaving my windows open again, during the summer.
And today, after my refreshing lakeside swim, I completely forgot to lock the door.
And now I am standing here in my towel, defenseless.
Oh God. My heart starts racing. As his steps get closer, I look around frantically for a weapon, but the closest thing is the knife in the kitchen. I would have to cross the living room to get it, which is where he is now. And even if I manage to grab a knife, what am I going to do with it? Stab him?
My scream threatens to drive out of my throat until the intruder walks into the light, and I get a look at him.
And he gets a look at me.
But even as I heave a breath of relief, Declan’s eyes flare with heat.
His gaze slowly trails down my toweled body to the tips of my toes, before coming back up to meet mine. His eyes are ablaze with a passion that grabs me by the throat and doesn’t let go.
"Um…" I swallow and try to breathe through the thickness permeating the air. He takes a few steps towards me, and his eyes seem trained on the part where I clutch my towel to my body.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
He takes another few steps, his masculine pine scent surrounding me, before his eyes meet mine.
I almost wish they didn’t, because the pure, dark hunger in them triggers a heat inside me.
"I came to..." His voice is deeper than normal, and gravelly like he has to force it out. And then when I expect more words from him, they're not forthcoming. He doesn’t seem to know what to say next.
"Apologize," he finally concludes after what seems like hours.
"Apologize?"
"Yeah. For how I….what I said…." He curses and then shuts his eyes. "Sorry. I can’t focus enough to breathe, much less think with you looking like that."
I glance down at my body. The towel completely covers all the important things except maybe the tiniest hint of cleavage. It cuts off mid-thigh too, dampened by the droplets of water on my leg.
Declan shifts slightly, and my eyes travel the short distance from my leg to the giant bulge at the front of his jeans.
I swallow, imagination besieged by dirty thoughts.
I remember cradling that large thing on my thigh last time, the way he’d moved in that slow addictive way against me like he couldn’t help himself. Even as he made me see stars, he didn’t take pleasure for himself, didn’t throw me on the table and have his way with me as I expected...and frankly maybe wanted...him to do.
But now I can’t get the image out of my head, of his huge erection rubbing against me. Savagely, I want to finally know what he feels like inside me, even if it splits me in two.
We promised that we wouldn’t do this again, I tell myself even as I take a step closer to him.
But he's here now. And he's not leaving yet.
He groans without opening his eyes, probably sensing that I’m closer now.
"Emma." His voice is a warning and a plea all at once.
"Declan." My voice is a whispered want. I reach out and place my hand at his waist, letting the towel drop to the floor. There’s a moment of awkward silence where no one moves, and he doesn’t respond to the invitation.
And then finally his eyes open.
I choke back a gasp.
If I thought they were on fire before, then they’re an inferno now.
His eyes move down once more over my body.
A groan drags out from his chest and lights the air as he finally gives in, wrapping his hand around my waist and dragging me against his body.
This time the kiss isn’t hesitant or teasing. It’s pure heat and lust, wild and unencumbered total domination. I grasp his shoulders, and he presses my body against his, moaning even more into my mouth like he can’t get enough.
I get the impression of something falling to the ground as he pushes my back to the wall, and I think distantly that it must be a painting. But I don’t even really care as he hoists me up and my legs wrap around his waist. His hand grasps my ass, molding it and pushing it more into his erection as he groans into my mouth.
"Silky," he whispers against my lips. "You feel like damn silk."
He says it like it’s the most seductive thing he can imagine, and I preen internally. I’ve always been a little self-conscious about how flabby my body is, particularly my ass. I’ve always been very active, but I’ve never managed to attain the tone to show it.
My ex thought I just wasn't trying hard enough and always encouraged me to lose weight even when my body stubbornly hung onto every morsel of chub it could.
It always made me self-conscious when I had sex with him.
But Declan makes me feel like a goddess.
His hands are worshipful as they travel up my side murmuring his pleasure the whole way through. He only allows a second for both of us to draw in breaths, and then he gives me another of his searing mind-melting kisses.
"Where’s your bedroom?" he whispers against my lips. "I need to be inside you."
I shiver at the sweet promise of his words and point listlessly. I’m not even sure I’m oriented right but he starts in that direction groaning with every step as it drives him against my pussy.
It's a special kind of torture, the constant friction, and every second seems to drag into eternity.
And then before I know it I’m flying through the air and landing on a cushiony surface.
Everything moves so fast after that.
Declan takes a second to stare down at my body again, before biting off a curse. The look in his eyes makes me feel like a sublime, and even more so , when he starts from my neck kissing down to my chest and then to my nipple. He sucks one into his mouth and then takes it in his teeth as I gasp and thrust my hands in his hair, undulating against him and mewling for more.
My pleas only make him suck harder and then lash the abused nipple with his tongue until I thrash on the bed.
More garbled sounds fall from my lips.
"Are you wet for me?" he growls.
"Uh-huh," is my barely literate answer. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Declan must have decided he doesn’t trust my words and wants to check it out for himself.
He kisses my midsection down to my pussy, arranging his body in the middle of my splayed legs. The image of me wantonly spread out shoots through my mind, and embarrassment tries to push through the lust. I try to close my legs, but Declan doesn’t allow it, holding my thighs open firmly. He licks his lips as he gazes intensely between my legs.
Then he leans in and laves my slit with the flat of his tongue.
I choke back a scream.
He does it again, flicking under my clit with the ascent. I jerk and grab his hair, probably pulling for all it's worth. Then Declan does the dirtiest thing imaginable. He spreads the lips of my pussy with two fingers on his right hand, and really goes to town, licking with abandon, like he never wants to stop.
At one point, while he's licking my pussy, his eyes meet mine.
And the expression on his face can only be described as drunken, sinful pleasure.
The string within me stretches too taut at that point, snapping suddenly.
My body arches violently as I explode.
Declan doesn't give me a second to rest, kissing me so hard I taste myself on his tongue.
As I float back to earth, I sense the pressure of something large nudging against my pussy. Declan's breathing getting labored and desperate, his kiss dirtier.
“Fuck.” He rips away, and groans, his eyes squeezing tight. Gravel drags all over his vocal chords as he admits, “I don’t have a condom. Do you have anything?”
My body still quakes with the aftershocks and bliss fogs my mind, but I find it in me to answer.
“I’m on the pill,” I croak, emotion pulsing through me. I’m ready to beg him to continue, but he’s the one who begs.
"Please, baby." Declan’s sweetly pleading voice does all sorts of filthy things to me, making my pussy ache again. "I need to be inside you."
He doesn't have to ask me twice.
His pants are already open and I reach in and grasp his cock pulling it out.
His groan is pained, and my eyes widen when I note how my palm can barely wrap around his cock.
He's really is going to split me in two.
Nevertheless, I drag him to my entrance and he starts to push in.
I throw my head back. This time, there's no holding back the cries in my throat.
The feeling of his cock entering me pulls the animalistic sounds out of me.
I feel like an animal rutting to heat, chasing the satisfaction on the horizon. Declan gradually fills me to the point of pain, and I'm convinced this is what hell feels like.
But then he changes the angle, dragging his cock against a nerve ending and I change my mind. This is heaven.
My nerves splinter as he begins to move slowly, joining my body with his. I can’t stop it any more than I can stop the tide. In a way, it’s like I'm still floating on a lake, but also like being cast adrift in the middle of the storm. I have no control here. I can only respond, only feel, only hear his harsh words and smell our combined need.
And nothing can hold me back.
I scream. I beg.
But he continues the slow labored thrusting even as he utters things like "I’m dying" and "Never has it felt so good." Even though I can feel the strain in his shoulders, the toll that it takes on him, he keeps up the slow, jagged pace.
I stare into his eyes as I near the peak, that tremulous emotion that I can’t yet identify threatening to spill out of me. I haven’t done this in years, not since my ex. The truth is sex has never been something I could have casually. And when I see the storm raging in Declan’s gaze, I feel an unmistakable bond clicking in place.
It’s reflected in the way his head drops to kiss my shoulder reverently, as he whispers his passion into my skin.
It doesn’t matter what we were before this, nor does it matter that we were strangers months ago.
In this moment, perhaps just for this moment, I am his and he is mine.
I reach the peak and fall over the second time.
Then, suddenly, he's gasping and shouting in my ears, before jerking his satisfaction inside me.
Neither of us talk for exactly ninety-eight seconds after.
I know because I count every breath and every second that passes when my mind returns to me.
The silence is comfortable. Or at least I tell myself that because I don't have the energy to move much less attempt to break it.
It's Declan who ends up doing so, by chuckling.
My head twists to face him. A tendril of insecurity pricks me when I see the genuine mirth on his features. Is he laughing at the sex?
But no. His eyes are trained to the painting in the corner the one I forgot to put away. The painting in watercolor, of a frowning man with dark hair, eyes, and devil horns attached to his skull.
It's a painting of Declan.
"Shit." I bolt up embarrassment spiraling through me. "Ignore that."
"Why? It's pretty good. Very lifelike."
"Shut up." I smack him on the chest weakly and he chuckles again.
Another silence ensues and this one is decidedly less comfortable because I know what's coming before the words even leave his mouth.
"This can't happen–"
"–again, I know." I sigh, keeping my voice noncommittal and unoffended. "You gave me the spiel last time. Remember?"
He regards me with a heavy gaze. "It's not that I don't want to do this with you..."
"Please don't give me the 'it's not you it's me' talk. Trust me, I already know what this was."
"I have a daughter," he says. "She takes priority in my life. And she likes you. I don't want to mess up the relationship by doing...whatever this is."
"Got it," I say. I don't think I'm getting emotional but I look away from him as he gets out of bed, just in case.
The silence when he straightens his clothes is decidedly more awkward and stiff.
"It really is a good painting," is the last thing he says before he leaves.