Chapter 33
Elsie
The next couple days are… weird.
For the rest of the week I only see Declan a handful of times in passing. He barely looks at me, and never lingers longer than the time it takes for a quick hello and a promise to talk to me more later on.
Except “later on” never comes. By the end of the day on Friday, I’ve had enough.
He was the one who gave me a hard time for avoiding him after the first time we kissed. Now I meet his family – albeit unplanned – and he, what? Gets cold feet?
I don’t know if that’s what’s going on, but I need to find out. After we close up for the day, I grab my phone from the break room and send Declan a quick text before I can stop and think about whether or not it’s a good idea.
Me: We’re closed for the day. Noah just left. Come over?
We don’t text much, but with him avoiding me, I don’t know what else to do. Don’t know how else to reach him behind the wall he’s suddenly put up between us.
And I happen to know that he has no appointments this evening, because he’s filling in doing walk-in piercings for Eddie, who left town for a long weekend.
I watch as those three gray dots that tell me he’s typing pop up on the screen, then disappear. This happens three more times before it stays blank.
I try again.
Me: Please?
Seconds later, his response comes through.
Declan: I’ll be right over.
I’m still in the break room when I hear the back door to the shop open, then close. I take a slow, deep breath and release it before I go out to greet him.
I find Declan standing stock still, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. It’s a look I’ve never seen on Declan before, at least not before dinner the other evening, and I don’t like it one bit.
Since when is Declan uneasy around me? He’s always been cocky and surefooted, the confident yin to my flustered yang.
I hate this.
“You wanted to talk?” he asks, still not looking at me.
“No.” I shake my head and step closer to him. “I don’t want to talk.”
His dark brows furrow as his gaze finally meets mine. His eyes bounce between mine, as if searching for something.
Placing a hand on his arm to steady myself, I rise onto my tiptoes and brush a lock of hair off his face.
He’s been letting it grow a bit longer lately, and not for the first time, I wonder if it has anything to do with me.
I wonder if it’s because he knows I love running my hands through it, or maybe even because of the way I grab onto it when he’s going down on me.
“What’s up?” Declan finally asks.
“I want you to get out of that beautiful head of yours,” I tell him, reaching up to smooth his brow with my fingertips.
“How do you –” Declan freezes, his words cutting off abruptly when I hook a finger into his waistband.
“Let me take care of you,” I whisper. And there’s no mistaking my meaning when I slide my hand to the front of his jeans, gripping his already hardening cock in my palm.
“Elsie.” Declan says my name on an exhale, and I can’t tell whether it sounds more like a warning or a plea.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just know that I want to do whatever I can to make this anxious, withdrawn man of mine come back to me.
“I want to make you feel good,” I tell him, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. “Tell me how.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You don’t have to –”
I stroke him through his jeans and bite my lip, letting him know without words that I want to.
“Okay,” he grits out. He closes his eyes, his eyelids fluttering, and I watch the internal war he wages with himself while he decides what to do. It’s like he can’t quite let himself believe in a good thing, and the realization makes my heart ache for him.
At my whispered “please,” his eyes snap open – and my Declan is back.
“On your knees, Elsie.”
His low command makes my breath hitch. I drop immediately, my bare knees hitting the tiled floor with a soft thump.
Tucked away in the very back of the shop like we are, I know that if anybody walking by decides to look in the windows, they won’t be able to see us.
Neither can anyone in the shop next door.
Hidden from view with all the lights turned off, we’re in our own little world back here, even though it’s not yet dark outside.
Declan reaches over to flip the lock on the door that leads to the backyard. I haven’t locked the front doors, but I know that with the lights off, nobody will wander in.
Declan slides a hand into my hair, his thumb caressing my cheek while his eyes sweep over my face, and I melt into his touch. I’ve never been on my knees for a man before, but somehow, with Declan, it feels right. I can’t find it in me to feel shy or embarrassed.
I want to be here, completely at his mercy. I know he’ll take good care of me.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs.
Though the shop is dark, I can still see the hungry gleam in his eyes. He’s a predator, a wild cat poised to strike. I think that makes me the helpless prey.
“You’re going to look even better with my cock in your mouth.”
I watch as he pops the button on his black jeans and pulls the zipper down. My hands ache to reach out and touch him, but I wait. Or I try to.
When he slides down the waistband of his black briefs and his cock springs free, I can’t help myself. I settle one hand on his muscular thigh and the other at the base of his shaft, leaning closer to take him into my mouth. The first slide of his dripping head into my waiting mouth has him gasping.
His hand in my hair grips tighter, spurring me on as I take him deeper, running my tongue along the underside of him as I go. He groans when he hits the back of my throat.
“Fucking hell, Elsie,” he mutters, just a little bit breathless. “You’re such a good girl. Dropping to your knees for me. Taking my cock into that sweet mouth.”
I practically melt under his praise, something I didn’t know I’d like before Declan came along. He probably picked up on it right from the start. I bet he knew long before I did that appealing to my people-pleasing tendencies with sweet, filthy words of praise would do it for me.
Declan sinks his other hand into my hair and gently guides my head back until just the salty tip of him rests on my tongue, then thrusts his hips forward and sinks back into my mouth, his cock bobbing against the back of my throat again.
We work up a steady rhythm, though it’s mostly Declan setting the pace, his hands and hips taking control while I’m putty for him to mold and use as he pleases.
“So pretty while I fuck your face,” he murmurs. The words are filthy, but the look he gives me when his eyes meet mine is one of pure reverence. The hunger is there, but so is something else. Something softer. Sweeter.
His hands tighten in my hair and I can’t help it; I let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating around Declan’s cock.
“Fuck,” he grunts, the sound practically a shout in the quiet room.
“I’m done playing nice,” he warns me. Before I have time to consider what he means by that, his hips take on a punishing pace, his cock hitting the back of my throat again and again.
I slide both hands from his muscular thighs to his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer to me.
“Goddammit, Elsie,” he curses, tightening his grip on my hair again.
It hurts, and my eyes immediately begin to water, but I don’t mind it.
I welcome the pain like I welcome the sounds Declan’s making, the power I feel even when I’m the one on my knees before him.
I relish the taste of him, the feel of his tight ass in my hands, the intrusion of his long, thick cock filling my mouth.
I shift and feel the slide of wetness between my legs, my core aching for some kind of friction to take the edge off. I moan again and it’s Declan’s undoing.
“Elsie,” he groans again, holding my head in place with his cock absolutely buried in the back of my throat. I love the way he says my name. It’s half plea, half prayer, like a man worshiping at the altar of a god he’s only just discovered.
“Gonna need you to swallow for me, baby. I’m going to paint that pretty throat of yours.”
A second later, he does just that. I taste the saltiness of his release as his hips buck against my face. I swallow every drop, my nails digging into his skin while I hold him in place.
When his grip on my hair finally loosens, I lean back on my heels and release his cock from my mouth. It bobs in front of me, still half-hard, like he hasn’t quite had enough yet.
I look up and meet Declan’s eyes, and the hunger that still lingers in his dark irises makes me smile.
“I’m going to fucking devour you,” he practically growls, his words all heat and gravel. He grabs my hands and tugs me upright. I’m barely on my feet before he swoops one arm behind my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me with ease, like it’s something he’s done a hundred times before.
He carries me into the break room and flips the light on before gently tossing me onto the small couch. He towers over me, gazing down with a hungry look on his face, and I have no doubt he’s about to deliver on his promise to devour me. My toes curl at the thought.
I consider making a smartass comment about whether he’s going to touch me or just stare at me, but I’m rendered mute by the sight of Declan dropping to his knees before me.
It’s not the first time he’s been on his knees for me, but fuck, it’s a sight that doesn’t get old.
If my panties weren’t already soaked from what just went down, the sight of this big, tattooed man on his knees for me again would surely do it.
“Sit back,” he orders, and like a puppet on strings, I comply.
He settles his hands on my knees and slides them up my thighs, and the sight of his tattooed knuckles disappearing beneath the pale pink fabric of my dress nearly makes me combust on the spot.
There’s something so delicious about the juxtaposition of it all, his inked hands a work of art against the blank canvas of my skin.