Chapter Fifteen
Chapter 15
DECLAN
WE RETURN TO THE SUITE and my mystery woman mumbles something about a bath, taking her shopping bags to the bedroom that was originally hers. A moment later, I hear the water running, filling the tub.
Otherwise, the suite is thick with silence.
I sit on the couch for a moment, replaying the day. After shopping and strolling along the beach, we had lunch, then I gave Sean the afternoon off and drove Sienna around the island myself. I didn’t ask since she doesn’t like questions, but her wide-eyed sense of wonder told me this might be her first visit to Hawaii.
Driving was difficult because I couldn’t stop glancing at how happy she looked.
My mind also snagged on the beach incident. I don’t get stopped by fans much anymore, and that was certainly bad timing. My mystery woman could’ve easily probed me for details about Tiffany. Most people do. Yet she did something far worse: she held my hand.
Such a simple gesture that people always miss. They offer shoulder pats and “I’m so sorry” and “It wasn’t your fault.” They send cards and give sympathetic looks as if they can possibly fathom what I went through. When they’ve vomited enough condolences and feel satisfied by their efforts, they leave.
But a simple, silent hand wrapped around mine? It’s more comforting than all of that other bullshit. A hand means someone is staying to bear witness to the hard times and pain.
To share a burden.
My mystery woman really messed up my head by doing that. Especially since I know she has the capacity to disappear in an instant.
I’m all-in for this fling she wants, but I hope she’s going to stick it out. I really need these remaining seven days to prepare for her departure. Maybe a fling will only make goodbye harder, but fuck it. I want this time with her.
While she’s still in the bathroom, I order room service and decide to do a quick workout. Of course, it’s the first time I’m seeing my room since she’s been hibernating in it.
The room is a beautiful disaster.
I smirk at the pillows and sheets tossed around, some on the floor. Her sketchbooks and drawing pencils are also scattered haphazardly, along with a few pieces of clothing. The bathroom isn’t much better—makeup and towels everywhere.
My smirk grows as I take off my shirt and walk to my punching bag. I’m a man who prefers order, but I don’t actually mind her mess. It means she’s inhabited my room, been in my space. I like that a little too much.
After wrapping tape around my hands, I get to work, slamming my fists against the stiff material. I think of my fight with Martinez, the match the guy on the beach mentioned. Martinez was a lifetime ago, and it was the match that launched me into the spotlight. Fuck, that bastard was tough.
Martinez was a southpaw, which always threw me off. His stance was unorthodox, and he had a right hook that could come out of nowhere. He was a counterpuncher, always waiting for me to make the first move so he could capitalize on my mistakes.
Honestly, my technique wasn’t the best back then, but I had stamina. I knew I just needed to keep applying pressure, never letting him settle into his rhythm. I worked the jab, keeping him back, and then I’d follow up with a combo, mixing in some body shots to wear him down.
Finally, in the fourth round, I saw an opening and my glove connected with his jaw. Knockout.
After that, I kept getting knockouts, usually a few rounds in. During one interview, the reporter talking to me made the comment, “You have any brass knuckles under those gloves? You come out with punches they never see coming!” That earned me the nickname.
Distracted from the memories, I hit the bag a little too hard and sloppy, a jolt traveling up my arm. I shake it off, rubbing my wrist.
Martinez—that fight was the beginning of the end, the start of a high in my life, followed by a sharp downward spiral.
It was the night I met Tiffany.
Sweat is pouring into my eyes, so I try to wipe it away, but my arm is also covered in sweat. Need a towel.
When I turn toward the bathroom, my mystery woman is standing across the room in a fluffy white robe, her hair wrapped up. She gasps and then bites her bottom lip, looking a bit flustered now that I’ve caught her spying.
“Uh, just getting my things,” she says, grabbing a sketchbook off the bed.
All I can think is: She took my hand.
I’m also amped from endorphins and a good dose of testosterone, so it’s no question what I’m about to do.
I cross the space quickly, pulling her against me and kissing her hard. She gasps into my mouth and my only response is to work my tongue around hers. Her fingers dig into my biceps, holding on as I spin her back onto the bed and cover her with my body, never breaking the kiss.
Finally, she turns her head. “You’re kind of sweaty and gross.”
I chuckle. “And?”
She squirms under me, glancing at me like I’m pure sin. “It’s really hot. Watching you punch that bag was hot.”
I tear her robe open. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until I’m buried inside you.” My lips suction onto a nipple and I bite gently, savoring her moan and the way she’s still squirming beneath me.
I’m usually more patient than this—I like to play and tease, getting my desserts only after my woman has gotten several of hers. But I have zero patience now; I just crave to be inside her like it’s my dying wish.
Guess tasting her will have to wait for next time.
Or perhaps there’s a compromise.
My hand dips between her legs, feeling that she’s more than ready for me. Then I move my fingers to my lips, tasting. I do it again, savoring her blush as she watches me.
“Something you like?” I ask, doing it a third time.
She only squirms in response, her chest arching up into mine.
I am aching to fuck her, but that look in her eyes makes it impossible not to play a little.
Quickly, I grab a silk tie from my closet. Her eyes widen in surprise as I approach.
“Lose the robe and stand up,” I say.
She doesn’t miss a beat, following my commands as I take off my pants. Once she’s naked in front of me, her skin pink and breath heavy, I spin her around, securing her hands behind her back.
My knuckles trace the delicate curve of her shoulders, then I say into her ear, “On your knees.”
She sucks in air, but doesn’t protest; she faces me and lowers herself to the floor.
With her hands tied and shoulders curved back, her tits are shoved out just for me. Each nipple is hard and pointed. Eager. When I bend down to taste her lips, my palms cup those soft, warm tits. I take my time, enjoying the way they give under my touch and roll through my hands. Then I twist a nipple until she moans.
“Good?” I ask, making sure I’m not taking things too far.
She nods. I lower my hand for more confirmation—she’s so wet it’s spreading down her thighs.
I smile. Seems my mystery woman enjoys being tied up and teased.
“Open,” I say as I straighten, gripping the base of my cock.
She swallows and then her eyes fixate on my length, her gorgeous mouth falling open, ready to take in all of me. Holding the back of her head, I guide her forward. She gags, but I keep pushing until I’ve hit the back of her throat. Her muscles constrict and it’s pure heaven. A moan rumbles from my chest.
I pull out, letting her gasp for air.
“Good?” I ask again.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly. Then she takes my cock back into her mouth without guidance.
I give her control for a moment, allowing her to pleasure me however she likes.
Her throat, tongue, lips…are exquisite. Her head bobs back and forth like she’s starved, her tongue repeatedly hitting a pleasurable spot below my tip. Before I’m aware of it, my balls tighten and I’m ready to release down her throat.
I grab her hair and pull her away quickly, not wanting the fun to end just yet.
“Get on the bed. Stay on your knees,” I tell her.
She does, and then I help her lower her torso, her shoulders pressing into the bed as I raise her hips higher.
Fuck. She’s on complete display for me, glistening and puffy. I smack her ass, leaving a light red mark, and she cries out.
“Good?”
“More than good,” she says with a muffled voice, since her face is buried in the sheets.
“I can see that.” I press my mouth between her thighs from behind, my hands kneading her luscious ass. My tongue revels in her wetness as I smack her again, harder. Then I spread her slit open with eager fingers. She moans and it’s the most wonderful sound.
Changing my position, I lay on my back, pulling her hips down until she smothers my face. With two fingers hooked inside her, I suck on her clit, bringing her close to the edge. I need her close because once I’m fucking her, I won’t last long. I feel on the verge of coming just from eating her this way.
Before I send her off the cliff, though, I move away, eliciting an angry groan of protest from my delicious mystery woman.
I search the nightstand.
Fuck, where are the condoms?
Then it hits me: I only brought one.
That was stupid.
I was originally thinking I’d enjoy only one night with her if she was interested. And I knew I could always go to the store. What I didn’t anticipate was being so hungry for her I lost the capacity to think—we could’ve bought more foils earlier today.
She rolls over, peering at me with hooded eyes as my hand squeezes the edge of the nightstand. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and I turn to gaze at her messy damp hair, those flushed cheeks, and the ‘come fuck me’ look.
My cock twitches.
“I’m out of condoms, so change of plans.” I return to her, covering her petite frame with my body and pressing our lips together. She smells like tropical soap, her entire body fresh and clean, waiting for me to dirty it more.
She pushes against my chest, urging me to stop. After brushing her fingers over my cheek in a way that’s too tender, something I normally object to, she says, “I’m on birth control. I promise.”
I’m tempted, so very close to thrusting inside her, bareback.
But that ‘promise’ hits too close to home. I don’t know this woman well enough. Don’t know her name. And promises are too important, especially when it comes to creating an innocent life.
Moving her hand from my cheek, I kiss her fingers. Then her beautiful mouth. Then my teeth find her nipples, pulling more gorgeous moans from her throat. As soon as I get more condoms, I’m going to fuck her until she screams. For now, we’ll both need patience.
She’s on her back now, so I move to her head, holding my cock out until she understands and starts pleasuring me. As I’m debating whether to spill down her throat or on her chest, she pauses.
“Touch me,” she whimpers. “I’m so close.”
I slide my hand between her thighs. “I didn’t forget about you, my dirty little princess.”
Her eyes dart to mine, flashing wide for a second, then she bites her bottom lip and moans.
Hmm, did she like that name? Note taken.
My fingers hook inside her again, thumb working circles around her clit, as we chase our mutual release. It doesn’t take either of us long—her pussy is soon pulsing around my fingers as I pull free of her mouth and come on her tits.
She’s eager to take me in again, though, running her mouth up and down my length while moaning softly, making my body tense and twitch every time she licks my tip.
I finally stop her movements. “Good girl. But save some for later.”
We’re both breathing heavily, trying to catch our breaths, and she’s staring at my mouth with a lot of anticipation. I normally don’t linger after sex for a make-out session, but what the hell. I untie her hands and then lie beside her, exploring and savoring her lips until mine are raw.
Finally breaking away, I take a quick shower and then go out for those damn condoms.
Dinner from room service is cold when I get back, so my mystery woman warms it in the oven. We watch a movie on the couch and eat, then she goes to my room to pack up her stuff, preparing to vacate.
That bugs the hell out of me.
I follow her to the room, peel her hands away from her luggage as she tries to stuff a pair of jeans inside, then I roll on a condom. Soon, I’m fucking her against the dresser. Watching her tits bounce in the mirror makes me come so hard I get dizzy for a second.
When I’m done and she makes another attempt to pack up her shit, I push her back onto the bed and eat her out. I’m too spent to come again, but I make her climax several more times. When I’m finally done pleasuring and enjoying her body, she’s too boneless to even lift a finger.
Good.
I kick her luggage toward my closet, then I wrap her up in my sheets, turn off the light, and climb into bed next to her. We face opposite directions, but I can feel her body heat warming my back.
The sound of her snores fills my room. I stare at the curtains and smile to myself. I forgot to take my sleeping pills, but there’s a possibility I might get a full, restful night of sleep for once.
I had grown tired of her merely haunting my bed; better to have her in it.