Chapter Eleven
Chapter 11
SIENNA
AS SOON AS I PRESS my lips against Declan’s, a switch is flipped. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his unyielding torso. I gasp against his mouth because he’s ravenous. Then I taste his minty tongue, full lips, the groan he releases as he explores. My knees feel like they’re going to buckle any second, but his arm around my waist keeps me standing.
Breaking the kiss, he watches my lips part on a gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly. He chuckles, completely satisfied with how he’s affecting me. “Seems I’ve left you breathless.”
Trying to maintain some composure, I respond, “Don’t get cocky.”
“Oh, it’s too late for that.”
His hips roll into my stomach, pressing his full, hard girth against me.
My throat releases a traitorous moan, and I reach down, gripping his length through his slacks. Since we’ve been teasing each other for so long—or maybe it was only me doing the teasing—a burning need has completely taken over. I hastily undo his belt, top button, zipper. In seconds, I’ve freed him, eagerly running my fingers up and down his silky, warm, pulsing hardness.
He’s completely in control and level-headed as he reaches down to grab my wrist. “Keep your hands to yourself until I tell you not to, got it?”
I nod, and he secures my hands behind my back.
Moving his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “You’re going to be good and do everything I say, aren’t you?”
I let out an ‘mmm’ or maybe it’s a moan because I can’t quite find the breath to say, “God yes.”
“Good,” he rumbles. Then he nips my ear. “I’m going to savor every fucking second of this.”
An involuntary shudder wracks through me. I love it and I hate it. I want to fully let go and surrender, yet I’m terrified.
Doesn’t matter because I’m in too deep now to stop; I’m sure my body won’t let me.
My eyes drop to his erection. Keeping my hands to myself might be impossible. All I want is to stroke him, run my tongue along his thickness, force him inside me because he’s going to stretch me past my limits.
Right now, he’s only holding my wrists together with one hand and touching my shoulders with the other, but I moan from my own dirty thoughts.
“You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?” he asks, running a thumb over my burning cheek.
I nod, and he chuckles.
“Should’ve known.” His lips find mine again.
The kisses this time are slow, teasing. Though my hands remain pinned behind my back, my body arches toward him. He only said to keep my hands to myself, not anything else. I lift my leg, running my thigh against his hip, trying to urge him closer.
Breaking the kiss, he steps back, one eyebrow raised. “Do I need to tie you up?”
“Maybe,” I whisper, sounding bolder than I feel. Getting tied up isn’t something I’ve tried, but I’m open to the idea. Especially with him.
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
There’s a flutter in my chest. Next time? There shouldn’t be a—
He takes my hand, forcing me to stay in the present, and then leads me out of my bedroom. We cross the suite to his room. I glance around because it’s a little different from mine. The bed and ocean view are similar, but the punching bag is noticeably out of place.
I must look confused or I’m glancing around at everything too long, because Declan holds my chin firmly, forcing my attention back to him. “I had the punching bag brought in. The suites don’t come with one.”
I’m about to ask for more details, which I know is silly considering what we’re doing, when his kiss silences me. His hands thoroughly roam my body for the first time, gliding down my chest and erect nipples, my stomach, thighs. He runs a single finger over my crease, pressing the fabric of my leggings in and making them wet.
His hands reach around to cup my ass, and his low voice rumbles, “Face the mirror and undress for me. Slowly.”
“Mirror?”
He turns me to face a large vanity mirror that points right at his bed.
Satisfied with the command he just gave, he unbuttons his shirt and peels it from his body.
My core clenches and my leggings become more helplessly wet.
Oh. My. God.
I’m captivated by every flex and bend of his muscles through the mirror’s reflection; he might be more sculpted than any male figure ever carved from stone.
I can’t stop watching as he sits on the edge of the bed, leans back to prop himself up with one hand, and begins stroking himself.
Slowly up and slowly down.
I want to break the rules and touch him desperately.
“I thought I told you to undress,” he says with a level tone, completely composed and at ease with himself. He strokes his cock like it’s the most normal and natural thing to do.
His tip is glistening with pre-cum, hand stroking slowly up, slowly down.
I bite my bottom lip and moan.
He only meets my gaze through the mirror’s reflection, challenging me while also teasing me beyond my sanity with what he’s doing.
Finally willing my shaky hands to move, I grasp the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head.
Declan keeps watching, almost impassively. It’s strange to see both him and myself at the same time in the mirror. I see what he’s seeing, what’s turning him on. And all it’s doing is adding fuel to the fire that’s erupted underneath my skin.
Next, I shimmy out of my leggings. I notice his eyes dip to my ass. I’m not wearing sexy underwear at the moment, just plain black hipsters, but they are riding up, revealing the bottom curve of my cheeks. Declan seems particularly fascinated with it, so I pull the underwear up more, turning them into a makeshift thong.
I feel very satisfied when his strokes become a little faster.
“Take them off,” he commands. “The bra too.”
“Why don’t you take off your pants?”
His gaze slides up to meet mine in the reflection. “Are you disobeying? Because that means punishment.”
Struggling to keep my breath steady, I hold Declan’s smoldering gaze in the mirror as I reach behind me and unhook my bra. Slowly, I let it slide down my arms before dropping it to the floor. His eyes rake over my exposed skin and my nipples harden into tight peaks under his intense scrutiny. Finally, I hook my thumbs into my underwear and wiggle my hips as I peel them down my legs, bending at the waist to give him a good view.
For several long minutes, I stand here, naked and facing the mirror, while he just strokes himself and enjoys the view. He didn’t tell me to do anything else, so I just wait.
In agony, I wait, feeling uncomfortably wet.
After an eternity, he stands and grabs his discarded button down off the bed. Then he drapes it over my shoulders.
“Put this on,” he commands.
I do as he requests, then look in the mirror at how large his shirt is on my torso.
“Same as last time,” he adds, guiding one of my hands between my thighs. “Only now, you won’t be able to clean it.”
“Is this one of your particular tastes?” I ask. “Making me dirty your clothes?”
One corner of his mouth floats up in a smirk. “One of them, but I have many.” His hands grip my waist and he prods my back with his firm length. “Ruining expensive clothing through fucking is another.”
The way he says ‘fucking’ is so primal and gritty that I immediately start rubbing between my thighs.
He lets out an appreciative groan and returns to reclining on the bed, stroking himself lazily.
Just as I did with his jacket, I press the fabric of his shirt against my core, let it flutter over my clit, get messy with my wetness. It’s not as silky as the jacket, but it’s dense and soft. Expensive feeling. Luxurious. And I’m enjoying how I’m ruining it, as Declan commanded.
When I’m close to reaching ecstasy, my moans more frequent, Declan stands again. He stalks toward me. Finally, he sheds his pants and briefs on the floorboards, then grips my hips and pulls me roughly against his warm, bare skin. My back hits his hard chest, flooding me with so much heat I feel like I’m about to melt.
“Look how beautiful you are,” he says.
And I do look. I watch as this large man trails a finger from my collarbone, between my breasts, over my quivering stomach. I suck in a sharp breath as he grazes my sensitive folds. Then he plucks my nipples, runs his thumbs over the hard peaks.
His body makes mine look so small in comparison that I’m almost engulfed. Or rather, I’m cocooned, held safe from the world’s darkness.
He’s the man at the top of the stairs protecting me.
And also the one on the floor embracing me.
His name escapes my lips like it’s so natural for me to say. “Declan.”
He meets my gaze with those aquamarine eyes, and I say it again, a bit needier.
“Declan.”
Abruptly, he spins me to face him. I gasp, my breasts pressing into his warm, demanding, comforting torso.
“You do make things terribly difficult,” he says before kissing me.
My hands graze his chest hair as his mouth explores mine with so much pressure it’s almost uncomfortable. But I don’t mind the pressure or the way he’s forcing my lips to match his rhythm, how he bites and sucks and takes.
I’ve missed feeling wanted and craved like this. Missed a man needing to possess me.
But it is different this time.
Before, I was possessed without a second thought, used for physical gratification. It was always quick and sometimes I was left without an orgasm.
But Declan waited for me to give myself willingly; I’m possessed by him through my own free will. And I have a feeling he won’t be happy until I orgasm.
“Stop,” I whisper.
He stops immediately, pulling back, his body motionless. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I…I just needed to check.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I say, “Keep going. Please keep going. Tell me what to do. Do whatever you like. I’ll obey everything.”
He swallows hard before dipping his head. “God, what am I going to do with you?”
His mouth claims mine again; I surrender completely.
After kisses that are more gentle but still mind-numbing, our bodies break apart. He walks to the nightstand and opens it, pulling out a foil.
“Oh, I’m on birth control,” I say. “Tested and negative.”
He hesitates, fingers tightening and crinkling the wrapper.
He rolls on the condom anyway.
I decide to unpack what that might mean later.
When he returns, he crushes his body against mine, kisses me until I’m faint, then turns me to face the mirror. Silently, he sits on the bed.
“Now straddle me,” he demands, “but keep watching yourself.”
I obey, backing up and climbing on top of him in a reverse cowgirl. His hands roughly position me into a squatting position, and damned if I don’t look like some porn star trying to give the camera a clear angle of all the best parts.
He palms my breasts through the open shirt, kissing along my shoulder. “You have my permission to touch me now.”
Not wasting a second, I reach down and grip his cock that’s between my legs, revel in the thickness and feel. I push down on the condom so it strains against the swollen head, then my thumb grazes the tip. His cock twitches in my hand.
In the mirror, I can see his chest rising and falling in heavy bursts; I watch the calm and collected expression on his face start to crack.
I want him to unravel.
I want all of him to unravel under my touch.
Lifting himself, he says, “Now satisfy me.”
I almost fall off the cliff from just those words.
Raising my hips, I grip him firmly. Then I lower myself, guiding him deeper, inch by inch. It’s a little painful as he stretches me open, but once I’m at the base, the full, pleasurable sensation masks any sharp pinch.
For the first time, he releases a long, reverberating moan. The ache it causes between my thighs is more than my body can handle, so I bounce and grind on him. My head lolls back and my eyes close as his cock pounds against my restraints.
“Don’t stop watching,” he says, smoothing his hand up my inner thigh to my center.
It’s like I’m watching a porno; I barely recognize myself. My cheeks are pink, my body flushed, and I’m like a wild woman milking every inch of his cock.
Declan stares into my eyes as his fingers circle my clit. “So fucking gorgeous.”
I cry out, approaching my climax. The ache is unbearable, and his fingers are relentless and my entire body shudders and tenses and releases as the wave hits. Heat pulses between my thighs and ripples through my senses and I can’t stop moaning. My voice quickly rises in pitch to a scream as I bear down hard on his cock, trying to milk more pleasure from him.
While I’m losing control of my body and mind, Declan keeps rubbing me while his other hand wraps around my stomach so I don’t tumble onto the floor. When I finally stop screaming, but before I fully come down from the high, he flips me onto my stomach and fucks me.
He’s a caveman, curling one hand into my hip and pinning my shoulders with the other, owning me completely. His grunts rise in aggression until he’s almost snarling.
My body decides a second orgasm is a good response, and I start trembling again from another release.
Declan lets out several cuss words and his moans intensify as he thrusts hard and fast, filling me. Finally, his thrusts soften and he slows, catching his breath. His hands release me and he bends forward to kiss my back through the shirt I’m still wearing. I’m sure it’s plenty wrecked now.
“Fuck,” he exhales, pulling out of me. He yanks off the condom and tosses it in a bin.
“Uh-huh,” is all I can say because I’m completely spent, sprawled out on my stomach. I don’t even have words to describe how incredible that was. I only know I yearn for more.
More of his commands in the bedroom.
More of him inside me.
More of him.
I can barely move, but I manage to glance up as he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s staring vacantly at my back, caressing my skin. He places a soft kiss on my shoulder and then walks across the room, slipping into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower turns on.
His departure makes my body hollow, cold. But it’s good he didn’t try to cuddle or have pillow talk. His absence is a reminder that I shouldn’t crave more with him.
Why did I even let things escalate this far?
What a bad lapse in judgment.
Needy. I let needy Margaret take control instead of resisting and standing by my desire not to get involved with men.
I groan and cover my head with a pillow.
Just smother me now.
But now it’s done. I had my fun, and I hope Declan fucked me out of his system.
As soon as he’s asleep tonight, I’m leaving.