19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
VIVIAN
I am leaving for class the following Thursday and walk by my landlord, Tim, talking to a guy with a plumbing company emblem on his shirt and a notepad. I overhear the plumbing guy say, “You can’t get the numbers any lower, Tim. The pipes are shot; it all needs to be replaced.”
This is the third person I’ve seen here this week from a plumbing company. It seems Tim is finally going to work on the building. That will be great. But Tim snatches the paper from the worker’s hand and starts kicking the wall of the building before he goes inside and slams the door. Apparently, he isn’t happy with the quote.
I get to class and sit down while everyone files in, and though I try not to, I actively look for Declan out of the corner of my eye. But time ticks by. Professor Edwards comes in to start class and still no Declan.
First, I’m disappointed, like why hadn’t he told me he wouldn’t be here? And then I am worried, because what if something has happened and that’s why he hasn’t emailed me? But do I have the right to be either of those things? I mean, what are we? We are classmates, right? But we also hung out a couple of times and that had nothing to do with class. So we are friends. And friends can worry about friends. He’s also a nice guy who has helped me a few times, like taking care of me when I was sick and fixing my doorknob.
But it isn’t like we are in a relationship or anything—it is just a person being nice to their friend. He doesn’t owe me an explanation, or a heads-up. It isn’t like he has my phone number to let me know. No, I shouldn’t read anything into it, not like Bailey who won’t stop harping on it. I’m not used to anyone being nice to me, so it would be easy for me to read into things that are not there.
I realize that I’m spiraling and totally distracted. I work really hard to focus on class and even participate a bit in the discussion, hoping to make the class go by. But it doesn’t really work and instead time seems to go backward. I just want to get out of here, because all I can think about is Declan.
After class I pack up my things and head outside quickly, weaving through my classmates, eager to just get out of the room. I am pretty early, so I sit in the bus hut outside and wait. It is cold but the bite that was around last week is gone. I take in a few big breaths and acknowledge my feelings surrounding Declan’s absence and try to blow them out. A social worker when I was a kid tried to teach me the technique, and though I never mastered it, I always tried, hoping it would work one day. It’s okay to have feelings, she’d said. You should acknowledge them and walk through them, feel them, and then let them go. I have since found it is better not to feel anything at all, but every now and then a pesky emotion finds its way in and I try the technique.
It doesn’t work this time just like it never worked any of the other times. But it doesn’t matter because the bus comes, so I can go home and distract myself with something else.
I stare out the window and let my mind drift, and it brings me back to the same thing I have been evaluating for the last three hours—Declan. If I am being honest, he’s been the thing on my mind the most over the last few weeks. I think about how he has treated me, cared for me, helped me, fixed my door for me, taken me for hot chocolate, and driven me home. He’s even told me about himself to try and get me to open up.
All the thoughts have me asking myself the burning question within me. Am I wrong for thinking it is going somewhere? Am I mistaken that he is into me as more than friends? Does he think about me like I think about him, like I fantasize about him?
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts that when the bus pulls to my stop I don’t notice. And then I don’t realize I have missed it until we are two stops away.
“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing my stuff and rushing off the bus, as if me hustling off the bus is going to make any difference at this point. I get off and look around, trying to orient myself to where I am. I walk to the nearest cross street and realize I’m not too far away from my street, and if I cut through the side alleys I can probably be home in about ten minutes. Anger at myself bubbles up inside of me. This is what going through my feelings and getting caught up in them does. It causes me to get off track, literally.
I start walking through the alleys and hasten my pace as I notice how dark and dirty they are. I have cut through these back ways many times during the day, but the night always brings a certain level of terror with it. The night transforms the alleys into something I feel like I have seen in nightmares or horror movies.
I am walking at just under a jog, keeping my eyes focused on the next opening between alleys, noting I only have one more alleyway and then I’ll be on my street. I get to the break and look both ways automatically and do a double take when I see a shape appear out of the shadows of a building. It startles me, but I don’t wait long enough to look again, instead just beelining across the empty dark street to my next destination.
I make it to the next alleyway and hear footsteps behind me, making my heart rate jack up. I don’t dare look back, instead just keeping my steady pace hustling to the next opening and my street. I hear the footsteps get faster and I feel panic, fear, almost enough to freeze me, but I fight against it and push forward. I hate being scared and hate my response to it even more—I cry. I feel the panicked tears prick my eyes as I push myself to the edge of the alley.
But when I get to the end of it, I realize that it isn’t my street. I stop and look around, and the realization that I have one more alleyway to go freezes me for a moment. Stupidly, I turn and see that the shadow getting closer is a man making his way to me. He is weaving, and he grins the most sadistic sneer when he sees me glance back.
I turn and run, hearing him do the same. I hope he is drunk enough to slow him down, but I hear his footsteps racing, and I panic, trying to run faster.
“Hey,” I hear nearly behind me and feel a tug on my backpack. I am pulled a little but I jerk to the side and am able to get him off me. But the man is undeterred. He comes back at me with a vengeance and pulls hard on my backpack, nearly sending me to the ground. I slide my arms out of the straps somehow and keep running, fully sprinting now, tears running down my cheeks. My whole world is in the backpack, but I am in survival mode at this moment. I run, seeing my street get closer, and I dare a look back and see the man still running, having been slowed a bit. I can probably make it, but then when I turn back I slam into a wall.
Or at least I think it is a wall. But as arms clamp tight around me, terror floods my veins, turning me ice cold.
“Vivian,” a voice commands, and I sag with relief to realize that it is Declan. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone is chasing me,” I sputter out as I hyperventilate.
Declan pushes me to the stoop of my building and disappears into the darkness of the alley.
“What the fuck do you want?” I hear the vagrant taunt. “You can have her after I—”
Suddenly there is no more speaking. Instead the night around me is filled with crunching sounds and moans. I’m panicking now for a different reason, afraid that crazy asshole has done something to Declan. Declan’s a big guy, but who knows if the drunk has a gun or a knife. Moans echo from the alley. Is that Declan moaning in pain?
I’m about to go and see when a shadow heads my way. I’m too terrified to move, but instant relief floods me when I see Declan coming out of the dark with my backpack in his hand.
I’m still crying and shaking as he comes toward me. I wrap my arms around myself to try and still the tremors.
“Are you okay?” I get out around my ragged breathing as Declan stalks to me. My eyes rake over him, and once he steps into the moonlight, I see he has bruising on his face, to the side of his eye. I gasp, my eyes widening, and instinctively I reach up and touch his face. “You’re hurt.”
Declan stands still as I cup his face, just staring at me, but finally he says gruffly, “That’s not from him.” Declan puts a hand to the small of my back. “Let’s get you inside,” he says as he directs me to the entryway.
I go along mutely, feeling my heart hammer in my chest, and the tears pour, though they are slowing. I get my key out of my jacket pocket when we get to my door, but I can’t get the key to the lock. The shaking makes all my attempts just slightly off.
Declan takes the key from me, his touch light and delicate, and unlocks the door, swinging it open for me. I walk in, go straight to the futon, and just sit. The tears have stopped but I’m still shaking. Why am I still shaking?
“It’s the adrenaline,” Declan says, coming to stand before me.
I know he is there, but him speaking still startles me. “Huh?” I ask him, looking up and zeroing in on his face.
“You asked why you were shaking,” he said. “Take your jacket off.”
I do as he demands, just moving on autopilot, not really knowing what else to do. Once I shed it, Declan takes it and hangs it by the door. My gaze follows his movements. He is wearing what I always see him in—a sweatshirt, jeans, and work boots. He crouches before me and runs his hands down my arms, his eyes scanning over me.
“Are you hurt?” he asks roughly, and I shake my head. He heaves out a breath and stands up, pacing in front of me.
“Why were you in the alley?” he asks as he moves back and forth before me.
“I missed my stop,” I reply wearily.
“You should have walked on the street,” he chastises me.
“I know, but I just wanted to get home, and I knew the alley way would be faster.” My voice is soft, just above a whisper.
“The alleys are dangerous,” he grinds out.
I close my eyes and heave out a breath, starting to get frustrated. “Yes, Declan, I know.” My voice is now louder and firm. “But I am tired and cold and upset and I just—”
“Why are you upset?” he demands.
I open my eyes and look up at him. Now I am really pissed off. Why is he being so bossy? I know I made a mistake; I don’t need to be chastised.
I open my mouth to tell him so, but instead I spit out, “What happened to your face?”
We stare at each other, neither of us giving in. It stretches until I can’t stand the stupid silence or staring into his chiseled face any longer, so I ask a different question. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to explain to you why I wasn’t in class.”
I look at him in confusion. “You wanted to explain to me?” I ask in disbelief.
Declan gives me a quick nod, so quick that if I hadn’t been looking at him so intently, I would have certainly missed it. It is on the tip of my tongue to ask why. Why did he, a man who gave off such a powerful and strong, confident, and in-charge vibe, need to explain to me? But I’m not sure if I want the answer to the question.
So instead I ask, “Why weren’t you in class?”
“I had a work thing,” he says. “Well, it was a family emergency, then a work thing.”
I don’t know him well, but something in Declan’s eyes looks, I don’t know, off. “Is everything okay?” I ask him.
“It will be,” he says darkly and laced with something like a threat. Declan sets his sights back on me and crouches before me again. “Is the shaking better?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t in class.” His voice is still even and flat, revealing nothing. “But then this came up, and I don’t have your number.”
“Okay,” I say, a relief I desperately want rising inside of me. I look him over again. “What happened to your face?” I ask softly.
“Business. Why were you upset?”
“I…” I stop myself. What should I say? The truth? How would that sound? I look over the broad-shouldered man before me. “Thank you for helping me,” I say to him instead, “before.”
He tilts his head. “Vivian,” he says, leaning forward, “what upset you?”
I search his face for just a moment and then breathe out, “You.”
“Me?” he asks, his voice softening in surprise, and I nod. I watch unnamed emotions flit over his features as he looks at me.
“Because you weren’t in class,” I whisper, my eyes scanning his face and dropping to his lips, which are just inches from my own.
His lack of response makes me suddenly ashamed for admitting it. “Forget it.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you upset I wasn’t in class?” His eyes bore into mine. It’s a lot. I try to look away, but he puts his fingers against my cheek gently to keep me looking at him. “Tell me,” he encourages softly, sounding almost pleading. But I must have misheard because that isn’t Declan. He is hard and strong.
“Cause I like you,” I finally say.
Declan’s eyes flare at my response. And then his mouth crashes into mine. I part my lips instantly and give him access to me. His tongue slides inside my mouth, his hunger and passion mixing with my own as our tongues massage each other’s. I moan into his mouth and it spurs him further.
Declan grabs my waist and lifts me, pushing me farther back on the futon so that he can crawl over me. He takes the other hand and pushes the back down, causing the frame to groan in agitation, but he nudges easily between my legs now that it is a flat surface.
I push my hands into his hair, the short strands so silky, as our mouths continue to duel with each other. I whimper and move both hands under his sweatshirt, desperate to feel him. His skin is warm, and I feel his muscles clench under my touch. When my palm hits his stomach, Declan groans and pushes his hips into me. Even through all our clothes, my senses become alive and desperate.
Declan breaks our kiss, and I make a sound of discontent from the loss, but he quickly sheds his shirt and pulls my hands back onto his chest before he recaptures my mouth. I explore his chest unrestrained as we continue kissing. He is so strong, and his chest is a rock of muscle, with smooth skin and a sprinkle of dark hair.
Declan’s hands go to my waist and he pushes up my shirt, and I desperately move my hands to help him. I pull my arms through the holes and move to take it off, but Declan refuses to break the kiss. He cups the back of my head with one hand and braces us with his other hand as he works one thigh against me. I shift my hips up to rub myself shamelessly against his knee, the pressure hitting me in all the right ways, exciting me even more.
Declan works his mouth down to my neck, and when he comes to the shirt now bunched around my throat, he moves his mouth from me and removes the shirt quickly over my head. He then resumes his open-mouth kissing of my neck. I arch into him and he lays me back, pushing my bra up and pulling one of my nipples into his mouth.
Declan bites gingerly on my puckered nipple, and I groan then gasp as the sensation lights me up all over. I arch up, trying to get closer into his frenzied mouth. He continues to suck at me and then he moves to the other breast. My bra slides up, and without detaching himself from my body, he reaches up and rips the bra apart, sending it to the side.
I continue to run my hands over his body and move my hips against his thigh, seeking the friction I desperately need. Declan slides his lips down my stomach and pulls my jeans button open. He sits back quickly and pulls my jeans and thong off me. I scissor my legs to help him take them all the way off and then I’m bare to him.
Declan’s eyes slide to mine and he looks at me, his breath ragged. “Declan, don’t stop,” I whisper, and it’s all the signal he needs. He drops to his knees on the side of the futon and puts my legs up over his shoulders.
“Fuck, Vivian, you have the prettiest pink pussy I’ve ever seen,” he says just millimeters away from my core. His hot breath makes me whimper as it hits my clit.
Declan flattens his tongue against me, and I moan loudly at the heat and pressure, all of it perfect, all of it right. His hand grabs my ass and he lifts my hips, bringing my core closer to him as he feasts on me. He uses his tongue and lips and teeth. “You taste incredible, Vivian,” he murmurs against me, and the vibration of his deep voice sends me soaring to another level.
Declan has me close to finishing, my gasps and moans so desperate to my ears, but I have no shame or embarrassment about any of it. The sensations are so good, and I don’t care about anything else. “Declan,” I whimper as he brings me just to the edge. At my voice, he shifts and slides a finger inside me. I moan loudly. Declan slides another finger inside me and curls up, then latches onto my clit, and I fly apart. Pleasure extends out from my core all through my limbs, and I cry out his name as I come.
Declan slides up and covers my mouth with his own. I reach for his jeans and get them unbuttoned and unzipped in record time, slipping my hands around to the back to push them down. I am ready for the main event.
Declan reaches back and grabs my hands. Breaking our kiss, he fixes his gray-blue gaze on me. “Vivian.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly. Declan stares back at me, just as breathless.
“We don’t have to—”
“I want you, Declan,” I say, cutting him off, my words coming out as a plea.
He searches my eyes for a second more and then he releases my hand and resumes kissing me on a groan. I push his jeans just under his muscular ass, freeing his hard cock. I reach and take him in my hand. His shaft is hard and hot, but the skin is so soft. Like the man it’s a part of.
I can’t completely circle my hand around him, and as I stroke, I finally realize how long he is. It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone, and he is for sure bigger. The thought of it all should scare me but it doesn’t. Instead I feel my pussy clench, like the deprived slut she is, ready to take him.
I stroke down his length, but Declan grabs my hand and stops me. He reaches back to his jeans and grabs his wallet, steadying it against the futon with one free hand. With his mouth still on mine, he digs in it until he produces a condom.
I pluck it from his hand and break our kiss, bringing the package to my teeth. I rip it open and then I swat his hand off the one covering mine on his cock. I roll the sheath over his length, watching his cock twitch in my hand at the sensation. I look up and meet his gaze, licking my lips.
Declan thrusts one hand into my hair and smashes my mouth to his. He slides his free hand under my hips and lifts me like I am nothing, bringing us farther onto the futon together. He reaches down and rubs the tip of his cock over my wet and waiting pussy.
When he nudges my entrance, I reflexively lift, ready for him to be inside me. He pushes in slowly until he is fully sheathed by my heat. I stretch deliciously around him, but it’s not enough, just him there, inside me. “Vivian,” he mutters against my lips, “I need you so fucking bad. I don’t know how gentle I can be.”
I move my legs up and around his hips, pulling him to me. “Please, Declan, please fuck me,” I say desperately. I have never uttered those words during any intimate time with anyone. But they are the only way I can describe what I need him to do in this moment.
He growls at my request, and once again his mouth is on mine and his hips thrust and retreat, the motion accelerating quickly, drilling into me. There is momentary relief as he starts moving, but it builds a different type of need in me. I need to come, and I need him to get me there.
“You gonna come on my cock, Baby,” he purrs against my lips, and the vibration of his voice rumbles through his chest to mine. He reaches between us and finds my clit with his thumb, and gently slips over it, back and forth. His cock completely filling me coupled with the teasing of my sensitive nub wreaks havoc on my body, and I explode on him. My pussy shudders and squeezes over his hard length.
“Oh fuck, Vivian, you feel so fucking good,” he groans as I become lax from ecstasy. He picks up his pace even more, and in seconds, Declan falls over the edge with me, calling out against my mouth as his release tunnels through him. He heaves out his breath and looks into my eyes, then places a gentle kiss on my mouth.
The futon whines under the weight as we kiss. And an instant later it crumples, slamming us onto the floor.