Chapter 18 Lyra #2
He yanks my underwear down in one swift motion, leaving me bare beneath him. I don't even feel the cool air, just take in the way he looks at me, like I'm prey he's finally caught.
He kisses my hipbone, then lower.
His tongue drags up my center, slow and punishing, and I cry out.
He doesn't give me a second to breathe.
"Fucking hell," he growls. "I knew you'd taste so good."
He sucks my clit and my eyes roll back.
I arch, wanting him more. He doesn't stop. He holds me open and buries his face deeper, groaning like I taste better than sin.
I bring my bound hands down and grip the back of his head, pulling him toward me.
He's fucking me with his tongue and it's the most amazing thing I've ever felt.
My legs start to tremble. My breathing gets faster, more ragged. The pressure's building fast and I know I'm going to break.
He looks up at me, mouth still pressed between my legs, and the sight nearly undoes me. His hands grip my thighs, hard enough that I know there will be marks tomorrow. Proof that this wasn't just another dream.
I close my eyes again, and feel a sudden pressure as he slides a finger inside me, then another, curling them to brush against that spot. Stars explode behind my eyelids; I feel myself teetering on the edge. His tongue continues circling my clit, and I yell his name as pleasure begins to rise.
I don't think I can control it much longer.
"Declan—" I gasp, tugging at my restraints. "I'm gonna—"
"No," he says against me. The vibration nearly finishes me on the spot. "Not yet. You come when I say."
He sits up and I whimper in protest.
"Beg," he says, trailing kisses up my stomach, my ribs, my throat.
"Fuck," I say.
He smiles. "That's what I'm about to do to you."
His mouth crashes into mine again, wild and unrelenting. I taste myself on his lips and almost lose it again.
I shift and wrap my hands around him, bringing him forward. That's when I feel it. I look down and he’s naked now, too. I don't know when that happened. I just know he's hard, huge, and leaking precum.
"Let me lick you," I say without thinking, staring at his glistening tip.
He doesn't hesitate.
He stands and I sit up and take his cock in my bound hands and stroke him a few times. He moans and I squeeze gently to pull more precum out of him. When I'm satisfied I lean in and lick it.
It coats my tongue and makes me want only more. I open wider as his shaft slides into my throat.
To say his dick is big is an understatement.
He grabs the back of my head and starts slowly fucking my face. I hollow my cheeks, sucking and licking as he slides in and out of me.
The grunts from him are making me so turned on I squeeze my thighs, feeling how soaked I am.
I look up and see him leaning back slightly, every muscle moving: his back, his pecs, biceps, flexing. He looks like a damn god.
After a few moments, he pulls out, breathing hard.
"Stand up," he says and I obey.
He spins me around and bends me over the couch.
"Spread your legs," he commands.
I do, but it's not my body betraying me this time; I fucking want this.
He comes up behind me and grips my hips possessively. I feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, hot and hard.
"Tell me you want this," he growls, one hand sliding up my back to fist my hair.
"Just fuck me already," I say, pushing back against him.
He laughs, low and dangerous. "Not good enough," he says and yanks my hair, forcing my head up.
I'm breathing hard, bent over my own couch, hands bound, ass in the air, obviously I want this.
"Please," I say, the word foreign on my tongue.
He leans over me, his chest pressed against my back, mouth at my ear. "Please what?"
"Please fuck me, Declan."
He kisses me. "That's my good girl."
He lets go of my hair and I lower my head, readying myself.
He spreads me and I feel the head of him at my entrance. He leans into me, and I cry out, unprepared for his size despite feeling him in my mouth moments ago. The fullness is overwhelming, bordering on pain, but I breathe, forcing my body to welcome him, wet and eager.
He pulls out slightly, and then thrusts into me again.
"Fuck," he groans. "You're so tight."
He gets all the way in and freezes for just a second. I take a few deep breaths, and then he starts grinding against me.
My fingers dig into the couch cushions as he starts going in and out faster.
Every thrust drives me forward, the fabric of the couch rubbing against me.
"You want to come now?" he asks, but I can't speak.
He reaches around, fingers finding my clit, circling roughly. "Answer me."
"Yes," I gasp. "God, yes."
His pace quickens now, hips crashing against mine. I feel him everywhere: inside me, around me, his scent filling my lungs, his groans in my ears. The pressure builds again, faster this time, a tidal wave I can't stop.
He straightens up, one hand still gripping my hip, the other smacks my ass. Hard.
The pain feels cool and hot at the same time.
I then feel him shift; something warm and wet lands on the small of my back. Spit. It slides down the crack of my ass, and I shudder at the unexpected sensation.
His thumb follows the trail, circling my other entrance. I tense, unprepared for this new adventure.
"Relax, baby," he commands, continuing to thrust into me.
No one's ever taught me that. I've never wanted it, but something about him makes me want everything he's willing to give me.
So I force myself to relax as he slowly pushes his thumb inside, just past the first knuckle. The stretch burns, strange and foreign, but as he continues to pound into me from behind, the dual penetration creates a fullness I've never experienced and it makes me dizzy with pleasure.
"Oh my God," I choke out, shocked by the intensity.
"Too much?" he asks.
"No," I gasp. "Don't stop."
He pushes his thumb deeper, matching the rhythm of his cock. The combination is overwhelming. Every nerve ending in my body seems to fire at once.
"You like that?" he asks, sounding almost surprised. "My thumb in your ass while I fuck you?"
I can't even form words anymore, just nod frantically. The pressure is building again, stronger this time, threatening to consume me entirely.
"You're going to come for me now," he says. "On my cock like a good girl."
He thrusts harder, and fire and electricity burn through my body. I close my eyes, and I still see white.
The orgasm rips through me with such force that I scream, my inner walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. My vision blurs, body shaking uncontrollably.
He doesn't stop; he pumps every ounce of my high and I feel numb from what he's just done to me.
After a few thrusts he slides his thumb out and grips my hips and begins pumping harder than he has before.
His cock feels like it's swelling, getting bigger. His breathing is loud, focused.
"Where do you want it?" he groans, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.
I'm still trembling from my own release, barely able to think. Anywhere, everywhere, but I want to feel him fill me the most.
"Inside," I manage to say. "Come inside me."
I grip the couch and he slams into me, and with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself as far as he can in me. I feel his cock pulsing, filling me with his release. His grip on my hip tightens painfully for a moment and then relaxes as he collapses over me, his weight pressing me into the couch.
For a long moment, we stay like that, both struggling to catch our breath. I feel his heart hammering against my back, his cock still twitching inside me.
Slowly, he withdraws himself. I wince at the emptiness, at the feel of his release dripping down my thighs.
He leans over and unties my wrists.
I stay bent over, not trusting my legs to support me yet. My mind is blank, body humming with residual pleasure.
That was one of the most spectacular things I've ever done. I didn't know a body could experience such pleasure.
He helps me stand, turns me to face him. His hair is messy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from our kisses. He looks younger somehow, less guarded.
For a moment, I see a different Declan. Not the mafia prince, not the man who threatened me, but just a man. A beautiful man who's just as complicated as I am. And still, he looks at me like I'm something precious.
The realization terrifies me more than any threat ever could and I slip back into old ways.
"I need to shower," I say, voice rough.
He watches me, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're running again."
"I'm not running. I'm showering." I grab my shirt from the floor, holding it against me like a shield. "You can let yourself out."
Something flashes in his eyes. Hurt, maybe, or anger. "That's not happening."
"What?"
"I'm not leaving." He steps closer, backing me against the wall. "Not after that. Not after feeling you come apart around me."
I swallow hard, my pulse quickening again despite my exhaustion. "Now that we had sex, you don't want to just go? Because, you can. I will—"
He kisses me again.
"I told you. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on."
I nod and walk toward the shower, wanting the hot water to wash away the evidence of what we've done, but not the memory. Not the feeling of him inside me, claiming me, breaking through defenses I thought impenetrable.
And then I stop.
Why?
Why do I have to do that? If he wants to stay after all that, then I'm just acting like an idiot, or being stubborn, and right now I can't tell the difference.
"Hey," I stop and turn to him. "Do you, like, I don't know, want to shower with me?"
He smiles and walks over and picks me up. I squeal with happiness.
"Abso-fucking-lutely."