Chapter 10
Viviana
W aking up, my forehead throbs with a sharp, relentless pain. Yesterday was chaotic. I had an escape plan ready, an emergency exit in case things went south. Carlos had given me a burner phone the day before the wedding, just in case. The scuba gear had been waiting by the lake since the day of the ceremony, stashed by one of the wedding staff he’d paid when no one was looking.
All I had to do was reach it. The moment I got to the lake, I texted Carlos, telling him to get me immediately. I didn’t give him the real reason I needed to escape. No one can know. If anyone discovers it, if Declan d iscovers it, I’m dead. Not just me but my entire family.
When the Koslov’s men arrived, I thought that was it. I didn’t have enough bullets to go head-to-head with them. But then Declan showed up.
He and his brothers saved me. I pointed a gun at him, provoked them, to forced them to end it right there. Maybe. I don’t even know what I was thinking. My mind was spinning. Too much was happening at once, but he stopped anyone from hurting me.
He was so angry when he stormed into that room. I thought he might actually kill me. He can’t let me escape; his reputation is on the line. One fiancée dead, and now a wife slipping through his fingers?
The Irish Consortium would never let him stay in power. But if people knew he killed me for defying him… that would raise his Devil score a few points.
I glance around. This isn’t my room. It’s larger, darker. The bed is draped in red silk sheets and black covers, soft and luxurious. A scent lingers in the air, woodsy and spicy. A man’s cologne, expensive and overpowering.
I get up and head to the bathroom. A large tub dominates one corner, and a massive walk-in shower takes up the other side.
The tiles are a sleek mix of grey, black, and gold. Black towels hang near the shower, and men’s products clutter the counter. After finishing up, I return to the bedroom, my stomach sinking as I notice the suits lining the walk-in closet.
Shit. This is Declan’s room.
I’m way too nosy to stop myself from digging through his closet. I move his suits around, all dark, mostly black, and white shirts. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Declan outside the mansion in anything other than a suit.
His scent is everywhere...
“Looking for something?” A deep voice cuts through the air, making me jump.
Declan leans against the closet door, dressed in just sweatpants. His torso is a canvas of ink, the shadows of his tattoos shifting with each breath. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles tense, making him look even larger. A tattooed snake winds down his forearm, leading to his hand, where veins ripple beneath the skin, pulsing with raw energy.
My eyes trace the path of ink, following it like a secret invitation, my pulse quickening as his hand flexes—powerful and tempting. His abs tense, vibrating like he just finished a workout.
“This is your room,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
“Our room,” he corrects, his eyes trailing over my body, not even trying to hide the way they darken. “At least for now.”
I realize I’m only wearing a baggy T-shirt long enough to graze my thighs, and his devilish smirk makes my body shiver.
“You don’t trust me enough to let me stay in the old room,” I murmur, though it’s not a question.
“I don’t trust anyone, firecracker.” His arms drop to his sides as he steps closer.
“Except your brothers,” I say, meeting his gaze. Again, it’s not a question.
“Except them.” He takes another step closer, his eyes locked on mine.
My body shudders at his proximity, heat radiating between us. My breath catches in my throat as he leans in just enough for his scent to fill the space between us.
“So, Viv,” his voice drops to a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. His arm stretches out, fingers barely grazing my skin as they trail down my arm—a feather-light touch that leaves a tingling path in its wake. “Are you looking for something?” The words roll off his tongue slowly, every syllable thick with intent, making my pulse race.
I can feel the heat rising from my skin, my pulse quickening. Declan stands there, every inch of him sculpted, as if crafted by the hands of goddesses. His chiselled jaw is tight, lips slightly parted, and his eyes… devouring me. There’s something new in them, something dark and dangerous—lust, desire, maybe both. The air between us crackles, thick with unspoken temptation.
“I’m not looking for anything,” I manage to say, my voice uneven, desperate to shatter the tension before it consumes me. I step forward, determined to brush past him, but the proximity makes my resolve falter.
Every fibre of my being screams to escape, to shake off whatever pull he has on me before I lose control—before I do something reckless, something I can’t take back, something I need.
My heart pounds against my chest, and I fight to rein in the rush of feelings threatening to overwhelm me. I can’t let my emotions, or worse, my desire, take over.
But the moment I try to slip past him, Declan moves, swift and deliberate, like a predator closing in. His tattooed arm surrounds my waist, pulling me back against him. I stifle a breath, fighting for air at the motion. Before I can react, he spins me and pins me to the wall, each of his muscled arms caging me.
He grips my wrists, lifting them above my head as he leans forward. I feel the way his hand tightens around my wrists—there’s no way out of his grip, and that makes me feel things… things I can’t explain or things I don’t want to explain to myself.
While locking my wrists in his grip, he presses them against the wall. His dominance sends a shiver down my spine. The other hand moves up slowly, tracing the curve of my shoulder as if savouring the sensation of my skin under his fingers.
His touch is deliberate and teasing, making me hyperaware of every inch he explores. He trails his fingers to the base of my neck, pressing lightly, just enough to send a thrill through me— a warning of his power.
His thumb slides gently over my collarbone, lowering over my body until it reaches my breast. Though he avoids my nipple, the sensation makes me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making any sound. My chest rises and falls against his as he looks down at me, his eyes darkening with desire.
His body presses harder against mine, heat radiating from him like an inferno. The hard planes of his chest are flush against me, his hips pinning me in place. I feel the unmistakable pressure of his cock against my stomach.
His free hand moves lower, over the curve of my waist, his fingers brushing the side of my hips before trailing toward my inner thigh. Each touch sends shivers down my spine. My body vibrates under his, trying to suppress the whimpers threatening to escape. I press my legs together, but he forces them open with a swift move of his foot, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Don’t do that,” he growls, his voice deep and controlled, as though he’s enjoying the struggle.
How is he so in control when I’m barely holding on?
“Declan,” I gasp, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
His name barely escapes my lips, lost in the haze of desire as my body trembles under his dominance.
“What is it, firecracker?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver racing down my spine. His teeth graze my earlobe slowly, igniting a heat deep inside me.
“Do I make you uncomfortable? Or maybe wet?” A devilish smile curls his lips, his eyes gleaming with predatory lust.
“No, no you don’t,” I snap, trying to stay steady, meeting his gaze with my coldest stare. But my heart betrays me, racing as his breath dances against my skin.
He presses himself closer, and I stifle a whimper that almost escapes my lips. I can feel the heat of his muscles, his body melding with mine.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks his tone a mix of amusement and desire, his fingers gliding over my skin like a tease, making goosebumps rise in their wake. “Because I think you’re trembling with excitement?”
I swallow hard, trying to block out the way he makes me feel. “You wish, Irish boy,” I retort, smirking, trying to maintain control.
But as he leans in, his lips hovering near the curve of my neck, my thoughts scatter. His warm breath fans my skin, urging me to lean into him. Instead, I try to press into the wall behind me, but the motion only makes him chuckle— a low, husky sound that stirs something deep within me.
“Firecracker, I don’t need to wish. I can see it written all over your face. And that ‘Irish boy’ remark? You’ll pay for that,” he grunts as he tilts his head.
His gaze pins me like I’m his prey, and he’s the big bad wolf trying to control his hunger. “You want this. Your entire body is screaming for my touch.” I press my lips together and shake my head.
“You’re so delusional, Declan,” I finally chuckle, but my entire body vibrates under him as I feel his muscles coil, pressing me harder against the wall. His fingers still hold my wrists above me, his thumb drawing little circles that make every part of me feel unbearably sensitive.
“So, I’m delusional, am I?” He licks his lips, his eyes fixed on mine, making my breath hitch. “No part of you wants this?” His lips are just an inch from mine.
I let out a breathy “no,” but he only smirks, his fingers tightening on my wrists now.
“Really?” His free hand travels down; he pulls the end of my shirt up, his fingers caressing my bare skin.
I feel the goosebumps on my stomach as his hand slides, reaching my panties; he plays with the fabric and the little bow on top of them.
He moves even lower, reaching my pussy; his pointer finger slides into the wet spot, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my rib cage.
“You are right, firecracker; you aren’t wet,” he pauses as his finger caresses my pussy. “You are fucking soaking,” he presses his finger harder.
“Declan,” I hum, letting my head fall back to the wall.
“Declan, what? Use your words, Viv.” His voice is deep and menacing, and as his finger moves my panties to the side, I can feel his touch on my bare skin, his thumb pressing on my swollen clit as his pointer finger gets dangerously close to my entrance.
“Tell me what you want.” I rock into his hand, my body reacting on its own to his touch. He moves his thumb faster.
“I—” my voice faltering.
I need to tell him to stop, but I don’t want to! I want him to finish what he started, but there is no way in hell I will tell him that.
“You what, Viv?” His pointer finger presses on my entrance, and I move my hips down, trying to put him where I need him to be.
He inserts just the tip of his finger, his tongue licking and biting the soft spot on my neck, his breathing ragged.
“Fuck.” His voice rumbles on his pecs, his muscles tense underneath me, and I want to touch him; I want to pull him closer. I squirm to free my arms, but he tightens his grip, keeping them pinned above me.
He clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Be a good girl and stay still.”
The pressure increases on my clit, and I can feel my liquid heat pouring into his hands.
“Goddamn, Vi,” he murmurs darkly. I look down and see his sweatpants with a wet spot of pre-cum.
Shit, I want to touch him so badly; I want to lick his hard cock so much. My hips jolt as his thick finger slides inside my walls, and I bite my bottom lip, stifling a grin like a bitch in heat.
He chuckles a low, predatory sound. ‘So needy,’ he rasps, his voice rough, like a wolf closing in. He thrust his finger in and out while his thumb moved in circles on my clit, my breathing is ragged, my legs trembling as he pulls my arms higher, pressing his body into mine, trapping me between him and the wall.
He inserts another finger, and I almost scream his name. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek, suppressing the sound. His thrusts become faster, harder, each movement driving me closer to the edge.
My inner walls clench around his fingers, the sensation pulling me toward a release that feels dangerously close. The air around us is thick, and my senses are blurred. Every touch ignites a spark, pushing me closer to the brink of something pure, consuming, and just out of reach.
“You’re almost there, aren’t you, firecracker?” His voice is a low purr, a sinister caress—seductive yet edged with a quiet threat. It makes my pulse quicken in warning.
“Yes,” I whisper, barely able to speak as a tidal wave of heat builds deep inside me. It surges higher with every breath, every touch until it feels like I might drown in it.
And then, he stops. His fingers slide out of me, leaving a trail of molten heat in their absence. I whimper. I fucking whimper at the loss of his touch.
“It’s all up to you, firecracker. I won’t do anything unless you ask for it.”
His fingers glisten with my wetness as he lifts them to his lips. “Look at this perfection,” he murmurs, his eyes blazing with an untamed fire. His tongue flicks out to taste, his lips curling into a moan. “Fuck, Viv, you taste too fucking good.”
My mind spins. My body quakes. My throat is dry, and my fists clench so tight my fingers throb.
“You will beg me to fuck you, Viviana,” he growls, his voice dripping with conviction, “sooner than you think.”
He releases my arms, and they drop limply to my sides. As he steps away, my body aches at the loss of his warmth, craving his touch and the promise unfulfilled. But I refuse to let him see the frustration burning beneath my skin.
His devilish smirk tugs at his lips, leaving me breathless and searing with unmet desire. I’m still leaning against the wall of his closet, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I want more.
I pull my shirt down, sparing him one final glance as he leaves the room. The door clicks shut, and I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, trying to reconnect my scattered brain with my traitorous body.
This can’t happen again. It won’t happen again, I tell myself as I fill the massive tub with near-boiling water, hoping it will cleanse these horny demons from my system. I leave the bathroom door slightly ajar, just in case someone walks in.
My thoughts wander back to what just happened. The thing is, I’m not the only one into it. His erection pressing against me made that painfully obvious. I could feel its size, its hardness, and my legs clenching at the thought of him inside me.
My mind replays the way his massive hands explored my body, the way his fingers curled just right, hitting a spot that made stars explode in my vision.
My hand moves south as the contrast between the hot water and the cool air makes my nipples harden. My fingers slip between my folds, heat pooling deep in my core. My lips part, and a soft breath escapes. I need this. I need to take the edge off, or I won’t be able to face him without feeling an overwhelming urge to jump him.
The bedroom door creaks open. His calm and detached voice cuts through the air as he discusses dinner reservations with someone over the phone. Another faint voice filters in from outside the room.
I hear drawers opening and closing. His tone is casual when he replies, “Just getting dressed.”
I let my fingers trail down teasingly, releasing a soft gasp just loud enough for him to hear. He stops mid-sentence. The tension in the air shifts instantly.
“Get out,” he barks, his voice sharp and commanding, directed at whoever is with him.
“I’ll call you back,” he mutters into the phone before hanging up abruptly.
A deafening silence settles over the room, thick and charged. I continue to play with my swollen, sensitive clit, my finger slipping inside. A whimper escapes me, my eyes rolling back as I lose myself in the sensation.
Knowing he’s right there makes this even better—the thrill of it, the forbidden excitement.
“Oh God,” I moan, my body jolting as every muscle tightens, the unbearable sweetness mounting. I make the sounds louder than necessary, wanting him to hear me come; to know I don’t need his help to get there.
A surge builds deep within me, my muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. Each breath grows more ragged, more desperate. My pulse drums in my ears, a relentless rhythm that matches the crescendo rising inside me. Heat floods my skin, spreading like wildfire. My body arches involuntarily, toes curling, fingers gripping the tub’s edges.
I bite my lip, trying to stifle the sound, but it breaks free—a soft, helpless cry as everything inside me shatters and releases in a tidal wave. Time seems to stop. Every nerve feels too alive, waves of electricity coursing through me, leaving me trembling and gasping, my heart hammering as though it might burst from my chest.
For a moment, there’s nothing but bliss, a perfect, overwhelming high. Then reality comes rushing back like a cold slap. Declan is still just outside.
A sly, breathless smile tugs at my lips as I lie there, still trembling from the intensity.
From the other side of the door comes a deep, unmistakable snarl, low and simmering with frustration. I hear the rustle of fabric, the sound of him moving, and then—silence.
The door slams shut and it sends a shiver down my spine.