Chapter 16 Morning, Interrupted
SIXTEEN
MORNING, INTERRUPTED
TROY
Wet heat wrapped around my cock, pulling me up from sleep in slow waves that made my brain struggle to catch up with my body. My cock was filling out fast, and there was a mouth on me doing things that made my hips jerk before I was even fully conscious.
My eyes opened. Morning light filtered through the curtains, turning everything soft and golden. I was in Declan's bed, completely naked with the sheets twisted around my legs.
And Declan was between my thighs with his mouth around my cock.
The word came out strangled. My hand went to his hair automatically, fingers threading through the dark strands. “Declan, what—”
He pulled off just enough to speak. His voice was rough with sleep, eyes dark and focused on my face. “Morning.”
Then he went back down, taking me deep enough that I felt the back of his throat.
My head fell back against the pillow. “Fuck.”
I looked down and the sight nearly finished me right there.
He looked fucking obscene like this. His hair was messy from sleep, his jaw working, spit slicking his lips and dripping down my shaft.
His shoulders were broad and bare, muscles flexing with each movement, and I could see the marks I had left on his neck last night.
Dark bruises that looked like claims, like proof that this had happened.
My stepfather. On his knees. Sucking my cock like he was born to do it.
It made everything hotter. Made my cock throb in his mouth. Made my balls draw up tight with want.
He was good at this. Too fucking good for someone who had never done it before. His hand wrapped around the base while his mouth handled the rest, tongue doing filthy things that made my toes curl and my breath come in gasps.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I managed to get the words out between ragged breaths.
He pulled off slowly, dragging his lips up my length. He looked up at me with those dark eyes, lips red and wet and swollen. “I didn't. Just doing what feels right.”
My hips rocked forward, seeking his mouth again. “You're a natural then.”
“Or maybe it's just you.” He licked a stripe up the underside of my cock, slow and deliberate, watching my face the whole time like he was cataloging my reactions. “This is new for me. All of this.”
He took me back into his mouth, deeper this time, and all coherent thought evaporated. His hand moved to my balls, rolling them gently, applying just enough pressure to make my back arch off the bed.
I was already close. Too close. The combination of waking up to this and the leftover sensitivity from last night had me wound tight, pleasure building fast at the base of my spine.
My hand tightened in his hair. Not pulling, just holding on, grounding myself while he sucked me like he was starving for it. His other hand gripped my hip hard, holding me down when I tried to thrust up into his mouth.
The control in that gesture made everything hotter. Made me remember the way he had held me down last night, the way he had fucked me with methodical precision, the way he had made me come so hard I had seen stars.
“Declan, I'm gonna—”
The warning was all I could manage before my orgasm slammed through me.
My whole body went tight, pleasure hitting in waves that made my vision white out.
I felt him swallow, felt his throat work around my cock, felt him keep sucking through it until I was gasping and oversensitive and trying to push him away.
When he finally released me, he crawled up my body with feline grace and kissed me. I tasted myself on his tongue, bitter and salt, and it should have been weird. Instead it made my spent cock twitch with interest, made a primal part of my brain growl with satisfaction.
Mine. He had swallowed me down. Had taken everything I gave him. Was kissing me now like he wanted more.
“Good morning,” he said against my mouth.
“That's one way to wake up.” I was still catching my breath, heart pounding, body loose and satisfied.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He settled beside me, propped up on one elbow. His eyes tracked over my face like he was cataloging details, memorizing me. “How do you feel?”
“Like I just got the best head of my life.” I turned to look at him, studied the way the morning light caught in his eyes, the way his jaw was tight like he was bracing for a hit. “How do you feel?”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Confused. But not sorry.”
“That's a start.” I reached up, traced the line of his jaw with my thumb. His beard was rough under my touch, scratchy and familiar. “We should probably shower.”
“Probably.” He didn't move. Just kept looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
“What?”
“I'm trying to figure out if last night was real or if I'm going to wake up and realize I dreamed the whole thing.”
“It was real.” I sat up slowly. My ribs protested the movement. The bruising from the attack was still there, dark purple and ugly across my side. “And unless you've got superpowers I don't know about, you can't make bruises disappear in your sleep.”
Declan's hand moved to my ribs with careful gentleness. His fingers traced the edges of the worst bruise, featherlight, like he was afraid of hurting me. “These look worse this morning.”
“Everything looks worse in daylight.” I caught his hand before he could pull away, laced our fingers together. “Come on. Shower. Before we both start overthinking this.”
The bathroom was all steam and heat and tile that was cold against my back when Declan pushed me up against it. Water poured down between us, hot enough to turn our skin pink, while he kissed me like he was still trying to prove last night had happened.
His cock was hard against my hip. Mine was half-interested despite having just come, apparently ready to go again because my body had decided that years of denial meant we had a lot of catching up to do.
I could feel every inch of him pressed against me. The solid weight of his chest. The flex of his thighs. The way his hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave new bruises. The scrape of his beard against my jaw when he kissed down my neck.
My body was responding faster than it should. Blood was rushing south again, my cock filling out as Declan's mouth worked down my throat, teeth scraping against my pulse point. His hands were everywhere, mapping my body like he was learning territory he'd wanted to explore for years.
Maybe he had been. Maybe all those careful touches when he was patching me up had been him holding back. Maybe every time his hands had lingered on my skin had been him fighting this same want.
“Turn around,” Declan said against my ear, his voice rough with need.
I did without hesitation. I braced my hands against the tile, spread my legs wider, arched my back just enough to make my ass stick out. An invitation and a demand wrapped into one.
I felt him press against my back, his cock sliding between my ass cheeks, hot and hard and already leaking. His hands roamed over my body with purpose now. Down my sides, careful around the bruises. Over my hips. Gripping my ass and spreading me open.
The vulnerability of the position sent heat through my cock. I was completely exposed to him like this. Couldn't see what he was doing. Could only feel his hands on me, his cock pressed against me, his breath hot on the back of my neck.
“We don't have to—” he started.
“Yes we do.” I pushed back against him, ground my ass against his cock deliberately. “Unless you're already done with this.”
“Fuck no.” His hands gripped my hips tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. “But you're still sore from last night.”
“I'll live.” I looked back over my shoulder, met his eyes. I saw the hunger there, the want barely restrained. “You got lube in here or are we doing this raw?”
He reached past me, arm extending over my shoulder. He grabbed a bottle from the shelf I hadn't noticed before. “Had it for a while. Just never had reason to use it.”
I heard the click of the cap. I felt him get his fingers slick. Then one pressed inside me, slow and careful, and I groaned at the stretch.
I was still loose from last night. Still stretched enough that it didn't hurt, just felt good in that full, invasive way that made my cock leak against the shower wall.
“More.”
He added another finger without hesitation.
He worked me open with patient thoroughness that made me want to tell him to hurry the fuck up.
But the slow build was working too, making my cock fill out properly, making heat pool low in my stomach, making my thighs shake with the effort of staying still.
His fingers crooked inside me, searching. They found my prostate with devastating accuracy and pressed hard.
My cock jerked, fully hard now, leaking steadily against the shower wall.
He did it again. He rubbed that spot with deliberate pressure while his other hand came around to wrap around my cock, stroking me in time with the movements of his fingers inside me.
I was going to die. Was going to come just from his fingers if he kept this up, and from the satisfied sound he made behind me, he knew it.
“Declan, either fuck me or I'm going to come all over this fucking wall.”
He pulled his fingers out slowly, deliberately. I heard him slick up his cock with more lube. I felt the blunt head press against my hole, hot and thick and demanding.
Then he pushed in with agonizing slowness. Inch by inch, stretching me open, filling me up until he was fully seated inside me and I could barely breathe from how good it felt.
Better than last night. Different angle, different pressure, hitting places that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Move. Declan, please move.” My voice was wrecked, barely recognizable.
He did. He set a rhythm that was steadier than last night, less desperate and more deliberate. Each thrust hit deep enough to make my breath catch, to make my fingers scrabble for purchase on the slick tile.