Chapter 23 Lyra
LYRA
The water's gone lukewarm and the bubbles are starting to go flat, but I couldn't care less. I stretch out and sink so deep into this giant marble tub I could probably live here.
Candles flicker around the edges, casting dancing shadows across the bathroom walls.
My champagne flute is perched on the edge of the tub. The bottle sits in an ice bucket within arm's reach. Dom Pérignon Rosé, which apparently costs a lot of money. I take another sip, and I smile as the bubbles dance on my tongue.
How is this my life now?
A week ago, I was being shot at at the bus station, my life in a duffel bag, and now I'm lounging in a clawfoot tub big enough to swim laps in, while the scent of rose oil and eucalyptus comes up from the water.
Nina, Declan's housekeeper, drew this for me. She even added the oils herself. I told her she didn't have to, and she just smiled like I'd said something cute and brought me the Dom.
She's amazing.
Declan's house isn't just a house, it's a goddamn palace.
There's twelve bedrooms, each one bigger than my entire apartment.
Hallways lined with art that probably costs more than most people's homes.
He's got a freaking Van Gogh. And here I thought all his stuff was in Amsterdam or maybe the Louvre.
Then there's his kitchen with three refrigerators because why not, oh, and a chef named Mario who asks me every morning what I feel like eating for the day.
And Declan has been amazing. Much different than the man I first met.
Yesterday over breakfast he asked if I'd ever had a massage. I laughed and told him I've never even had someone give me a pedicure, not a professional anyhow.
The next thing I know, two people show up, take a room and turn it into a five-star spa.
"What are they doing?" I asked Declan.
"Couples massage."
So yeah. I got a massage, here. I didn't even need to go anywhere. My favorite part, I'll admit, was when the masseuse left, he claimed he could give me a better one.
I accept his challenge. He lied. He wasn't focused on my back at all. His hands, slick with oil, spread my thighs while I lay face-down on the table. He touched me like he owned me, his fingers working my clit until I was moaning into the pillow.
It would have escalated to more, but the pedicurist walked in on us. Talk about an awkward pedicure.
After that, I got new slippers and a robe with my name embroidered in gold thread.
This, of course, is on top of his first grand gesture, the day after I first arrived.
Declan wouldn't let me go back to my apartment. Said it wasn't safe. Said I belonged here now.
And then he handed his credit card to a stylist and said, "Get her whatever she wants."
Eighty-two thousand dollars. That's what I spent in one store.
I didn't mean to. I really didn't.
The stylist practically bullied me into it. I kept hesitating, and she kept saying things like, "If you only buy one purse, he'll be offended." Two hours later, I had ten pairs of shoes, four purses, and so many clothes I had to sit down halfway through the try-on just to breathe.
I still don't know what the hell else I should've picked. I gave up before we even hit accessories.
I told Declan that night, over dinner, that I felt like a thief.
He just smiled and said, "You deserve it. Plus, that's modest."
Who the fuck uses the word "modest" for a bill that could buy a car?
I've never lived like this. Never even dreamed of living like this.
Hell, I didn't know people actually lived like this outside of movies.
The last week has been... insane.
I take another sip of champagne, staring at the bubbles in the glass. It all became so overwhelming for me, last night I decided to tell him.
"People like me don't get this kind of thing," I'd told him over dinner.
He'd just took my hand and looked at me, his green eyes serious in the dim light. "You do now."
The certainty in his voice scared me. Like he'd decided my future without consulting me. Like he knew something I didn't.
But the scariest part? I didn't mind.
I finish my glass, and since the water's cold, I think I'll just get out now.
I stand, water cascading down my body, and reach for the towel Nina left folded on a heated rack. It's softer than anything I've ever felt, like drying off with a cloud. I then wrap myself in that new robe with my name on it, and slide my feet into slippers that feel like walking on air.
I step into Declan's master bedroom, still awed by the sheer size of it.
The ceiling soars overhead, a crystal chandelier hanging like a frozen explosion of light.
The bed could fit six people comfortably.
Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the most beautiful views of his garden and the city, lights twinkling in the distance.
I sit on the bed and listen.
It's quiet here, I'm still not used to it.
No neighbors yelling. No sirens. No glass breaking outside.
I smile and think, Hell, the only screams coming from these walls are mine, and we're not arguing.
The bedroom door opens suddenly, and I jump, pulling the robe tight, heart racing.
It's Declan.
He wasn't supposed to be home yet.
"Sorry, baby," he says, closing the door behind him. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"No, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting you until late."
"Family meeting ended early."
He takes off his coat, rolls up his sleeves, and my mouth goes dry.
God help me, that look.
Dress shirt snug over his muscular chest, sleeves rolled to his elbows, tattoos inked across his forearms. It shouldn't be this hot. But it is. He could walk around in that all day and I'd follow him anywhere.
His eyes rake over me, and I swear, I feel it in my toes.
"How's everything?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
"Good," he says. "Now that the Albanians are dealt with, and you're safe here, there's some family shit to sort out. A feather, and," he pauses, "but that's boring stuff. Anyway," he says, stepping forward, "look at you."
I do a playful bow. "Yes, I feel like royalty in this thing. In this house."
He smiles. "It looks good on you."
"So what's under the robe?" he asks, voice dropping a register.
I raise a brow. "Would you like to see?"
He looks me up and down, his eyes darkening with lust. "More than anything."
I reach for the belt of my robe, untying it slowly. It parts and I let it slide off my shoulders onto the floor.
I stand naked before him, skin still flushed from the bath, hair damp around my shoulders.
"Well," I say, with a smile, "come have a look."
"Fucking perfect," he says, coming up to me. He grabs my face and kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I kiss him back and moan and he grabs my ass, pulling me to him.
"Sit on the edge of the bed," he says, voice rough.
I do and he drops to his knees in front of me.
"Spread your legs for me," he commands and I obey.
His mouth presses against my stomach, hot and open. He playfully bites my hip as he works his way down, kissing and licking. His stubble scratches my inner thigh and I gasp because I know what's coming.
He looks up at me, green eyes dark with hunger, before burying his face between my thighs.
I moan as his tongue slides across my clit, slowly. I lay back on the bed and my fingers tangle in his hair as he eats me out like he hasn't tasted anything in days. It's sinful.
He sucks my clit between his lips and sets a pace that's going to have me shattering in record time.
I cry out, hips jerking forward, grinding into his face.
He groans, spreading me wider with his thumbs, licking deeper, circling my entrance, licking and sucking. My legs start to shake.
"Declan—" I gasp, "Oh my God."
He doesn't stop.
Doesn't even pause.
He hooks both my legs over his shoulders and pulls me closer to the edge of the bed, flattening his tongue and dragging it up my slit over and over.
It's heaven.
I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing but it's no use. I'm getting numb, my body on fire and tingling as he's pushing me closer to the edge.
I shake and twist, but he pins me in place, not letting me go until I'm undone.
He starts going faster and faster.
"Don't stop," I moan, "Just like that."
I feel my stomach tense and stars shoot across my eyes and I scream, my orgasm coming on so strong my toes are tingling and I start laughing from the intense rush.
He slows his licking, letting me ride out my orgasm while grinding against his face.
Fuck, I love this feeling.
After he licks me a few more times and I calm down, he looks up at me.
"Turn around," he orders suddenly.
Dazed, I comply, turning onto my front side.
"Hands on the mattress. On all fours," he says, slapping my ass.
I gasp at the sting that feels like ice and fire and follow his instructions.
His hand grips my ass, kneading the flesh, and another hand pushes my head down.
I breathe deeply, readying myself for whatever he wants next.
He spreads my cheeks, and I feel his hot breath against my most intimate places. I tense, not expecting this, but before I can process it, his tongue is there, teasing my ass, hot and wet and overwhelming.
"Oh my God," I gasp, fingers clutching the sheets.
He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body. His tongue circles my hole, licking places I've never had licked before. It's filthy and possessive and so fucking hot I can barely breathe.
"You taste fucking divine," he groans. "Every inch of you is mine."
He spreads my cheeks wider, his mouth relentless, worshipping every inch of me. I feel his tongue penetrate my ass and I moan. It's the most intense feeling I've ever felt in my life.
Declan seems to be an ass man, and I am fucking here for it. Jesus, this feeling is amazing.
One of his hands reaches around to tease my clit while his tongue continues its exploration. The dual sensation is overwhelming. I reach down, my fingers meeting his, both of us circling my clit together.
"That's it, baby," he encourages. "Touch yourself. Show me how you like it."
His tongue pushes inside me again, and I lose all control. My hips rock back against his face as pleasure spirals tighter and tighter. His tongue in that place is tipping me over the edge again.
I rub my clit faster and faster, making my perfect little circles. I'm already sensitive so my toes are already curling.
He continues fucking my ass with his tongue and I'm so wet my fingers are slick.
"Declan!" I cry out, body convulsing as the orgasm crashes through me, my back arching.
He doesn't stop licking until I'm squirming, oversensitive and whimpering. Only then does he pull back, pressing a kiss to each cheek before standing.
I lay there for a moment, then turn, legs shaky, and drop to my knees in front of him.
His cock strains against his dress pants, the outline clear. My hands go straight for his belt, undoing it with fingers that aren't quite steady.
I free his large cock, a bead of precum glistening at the tip.
I maintain eye contact as I deliberately spit on my palm, then wrap my hand around him and start stroking.
His sharp intake of breath sends a thrill through me.
I lean forward, maintaining eye contact as I lick from base to tip, swirling my tongue around the head. His hands find my hair, gripping firmly.
I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I suck. My hand works what doesn't fit, twisting slightly. His grip tightens in my hair, not guiding but holding on as if for dear life.
"Christ, Lyra," he groans as I take him deeper, relaxing my throat.
I pull back, spitting saliva onto his cock before taking him in again. It's messy and wet and the sounds he makes, like he's being tortured in the best way, give me courage to keep it sloppy.
I worship him with my mouth, tongue tracing the vein on the underside, lips stretching around his girth. When I cup his balls with my free hand, he hisses through his teeth.
His hips thrust into me as I deep-throat what I can. I gag slightly, but breathe through it.
"Fuck, I'm close," he warns, trying to pull me off.
I resist, sucking harder, spit running down my chin, wanting to taste him. He tries to pull me up.
"We can fuck later, come in my mouth," I say and then take him again.
I suck harder, wetter. He twitches and groans, tells me he's close.
But I don't stop.
I want it all.
His cock swells in my mouth and—
He shouts my name when he comes, fingers tangled in my hair, hips jerking.
I swallow every drop.
Some leaks out the side of my mouth, but I look up at him, scooping it with my index finger and pushing it back into my mouth.
"Fuck," he says. "You're so fucking hot and beautiful and amazing, you know that, right?" he ask as he tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb brushes my jaw like he's memorizing my face. Not like I'm his property, but like I'm his whole universe.
That's the part I don't know how to handle yet.
I smile, shrug, and wipe my mouth. "I know."
It's kind of true. The feelings he's brought out of me. Not just sexual, but everything. Making me feel whole. It's been incredible.
I stand and he kisses me softly. I get my robe back on and he zips up his pants. His phone rings and he ignores it.
It rings again and I tell him to answer it.
He does and his face changes and I almost regret telling him to.
"Fuck. Okay, I'll be right there," he says and hangs up.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
He sighs. "Some of my fighters got into it with another team. Caused some damage. I don't know. Nothing major, but I need to go handle it."
I nod, feel disappointed he's leaving. "Oh, of course."
He comes over and kisses me. Not just a quick goodbye kiss. A deep one. Slow. Like he's reminding me who I belong to.
"I'll handle this and be home in an hour. You're under full guard. Nina's here if you need anything."
He walks to the door and stops. "On second thought, lay on that bed and don't move," he orders. "I'm not done with you."
He winks and leaves.
I watch him go, heart beating like it shouldn't, already missing him more than I should.
God, I hope this isn't all a dream. If it is, I don't want to wake up just yet.