Chapter 16
Javi, Present
It’s late. Maybe three or four in the morning. I’m not sure—I lost track of the time.
I tried to ignore the feeling, but I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning. Trying to get the images out of my head. It didn’t work.
It’s not like I hadn’t been at this crossroads before. And with the same person involved. But this time is different.
Something weird came over me when we hooked up in the woods.
Afterward, I kind of brushed it all off as talk. I got lost in the moment. I wanted to come. I was sad and frustrated at my fucking life. And so all of that possessive, toxic bullshit came out of my mouth.
When Declan started avoiding me, I let him. We felt the same. It was a mistake. A vulnerable moment for us both that should just be ignored.
But the second I saw him talking to that other guy—touching him, smiling at him, laughing at him—everything I was feeling in the woods came roaring back.
I was standing there fucking shaking. Trying to hold myself back.
I was so close to dragging Declan away by his collar. I wouldn’t have cared if he was kicking and screaming—I would remind him who he belonged to.
Me.
Thankfully, Grant was there to pull me away before I did anything. Although, we both know if it was Landon in Declan’s position, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do some psycho caveman shit.
But I left it. I walked away. Tried to leave it.
Well, turns out I can’t leave it, because here I am in the middle of the night pulling myself over the railing of his balcony.
I know how fucking psychotic this is. But I can’t seem to stop myself. When it comes to Declan, I am just fucking psychotic.
I tip-toe toward his balcony door, slowly turning the knob to find it locked.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull a credit card out of my wallet and stick it where the latch would be.
I move it around, keeping my hand turned on the knob until I hit just the right spot with the card and the door gives way.
I slink inside quietly, leaving the door open. The breeze blows in behind me, causing his sheer curtains to dance against the motion.
As I make my way toward his bed, I watch his sleeping form under the covers. He’s laying on his front, his back slowly rising and falling as he softly breathes.
He’s set the lights to a pink color and turned the brightness way down, creating a barely there glow against his pretty features.
When I kneel next to his bed, I take time to study the way each breath of air puffs out between his pink lips. How perfectly manicured his brows are. How leftover flecks of glitter shimmer around his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. All of him is.
I gently cover his mouth with my hand. He stirs the tiniest bit but keeps sleeping.
“Munequito,” I whisper.
He lets out a soft sigh that seeps through my fingers but otherwise doesn’t wake up.
I try again, putting more force behind my voice. “Munequito.”
His eyelids flutter open, then blink slowly at me. Those perfect brows dip, trying to process his surroundings as he looks at me.
Reality hits him in an instant, snapping his eyes wide open.
“Mmmmmm!” he shouts through my hand as he tries to wrestle himself away from me.
“It’s me! It’s me!” I whisper-shout at him.
His eyes settle down for a fraction of a second, recognizing that it’s me in his room, before morphing into something irritable.
He jerks away from me, but I throw my arm around his waist and pull him back. “Shh. Shh. Be quiet. Stop moving—fuck,” I say as he continues trying to squirm out of my hold.
“Mmm mm mm mm mmm mmmmm!”
He’s still trying to yell—his face fixed in a glare while he bucks against me.
“You deserve this,” I mutter as I tighten my arm around him, which finally seems to stop his attempts at escape.
“Mmmm?”
“You know what you were trying to do today. I told you. Solo mío ”
He bites my hand, startling me enough to let go of him. Scrambling off the bed, he starts running for the door, but I catch him by the ankle, sending him crashing to the floor, landing loudly on his front.
He lets out a scream and yells, “Stranger fucking danger!”
I start dragging him back to me, but he fights hard, grabbing onto the leg of his bed to anchor himself. “Would you stop?” I angrily grunt. “You’re going to wake up Harold and Nancy.”
“Good. Ahhhhhh!”
I yank him as hard as I can, making his fingers slip from the bed’s leg and bringing him right in front of me. I yank his pelvis, putting his ass in the air and swiftly smack it.
It sends a loud crack through the air, rendering Declan silent beneath me.
“You can’t act like you don’t like the attention,” I say through exhausted breaths as I caress my hand over the cheek I just smacked, soothing it. “You fucking love the attention, munequito.”
He stays silent and unmoving in front of me, head facing forward so I can’t see, ass mere millimeters away from where my cock aches inside my pants.
I give into temptation and push forward, allowing a graze of my crotch against his cloth-covered ass.
He whimpers—every one of his muscles relaxing until he’s a puddle for me.
It makes my pulse quicken. Fireworks start going off in my brain, making that organ pretty much useless. So I let the only body part with blood guide me.
“You wanted to make me mad.” He has no shirt on—only a silky pair of pajama pants.
I lean over him, letting a hand run down his arched back.
He bows even further against the touch. “You wanted to test me, right?” My hands wander to his front, ghosting over his pierced nipples, then down to his pants, feeling the silken material against my palms. “To see if I was full of shit.”
I grab the back of his neck, turning it so the side of his face is pressed against the floor. His eyes find mine. “I’m not fucking joking, munequito.” I blanket my body over his, which isn’t hard because he’s so much smaller than me, and speak close to his face. “No one else.”
“Why the hell would you want me?”
His voice sounds confused and angry.
“Because.” I know it’s not an explanation, but honestly, I’m confused too.
I don’t necessarily have an answer for him.
After what he did, I shouldn’t want him. But I still do.
Maybe this feeling will end up passing, but right now, I can’t ignore it.
I sit back abruptly and rip his pants down. He gasps and so do I, staring at the red handprint blooming from where I spanked him.
The longer I look at the mark, the weirder I feel inside. It’s like that possessive feeling but worse. More intense and suffocating.
“So pretty,” I whisper as I lean forward to kiss the redness. His skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Do you like getting spanked, munequito?” I ask, while pulling his cheeks apart, letting his pink hole peek out.
“Fuck off, Javier,” he grits through his teeth, but his whole body shivers as he says it.
I raise my hand and bring it down on the other ass cheek. “Ah! Shit!” he shouts.
The sting from my hand makes my whole body throb with excitement. It’s a heady feeling—I’m almost lightheaded from the strength of it. “I think you really like it. Tell me you want more, munequito.”
“No,” he mutters. It’s a weird sound. A plea and a cry mixed together. He pushes back his hips, shoving his ass closer to me.
It’s all the answer I need.
I spank the fuck out of him. Raining down harsh slaps that jiggle his pale skin in the prettiest way possible.
It’s addicting. Intoxicating. I don’t think I’ll survive this feeling.
I manage to stop myself.
His skin is covered in red marks. Some of them have welted up. The pattern is beautiful. Something I could look at all day.
My eyes drift lower—my cock giving an aggressive twitch in my pants when I see the puddle of pre-cum he’s leaked onto the floor.
Reaching under him, I run my fingers through it, spreading it around my fingers before rubbing the tip of his dick with them.
He cries out as his cock gifts me another dollop of pre-cum to smear around.
His legs start trembling as he mutters, “This-this fucking sucks. You’re really b-bad at this.”
“You would know, right?”
He scoffs, but it turns into a long moan. “I hate you,” he manages to get out.
“I know, munequito.”
I pull my hand back and trail it down his crack, stopping on his hole and tapping my finger there. I admire the pink skin as it flutters for me. Inviting me in.
“Don’t,” he says shakily.
“Don’t?”
He raises himself up on wobbly arms to look back at me. His lavender hair hangs messily in his face, and I think he might’ve been drooling. There’s a shiny trail running from his plump mouth down his chin.
“Don’t suck on your fingers to get them all wet. Don’t fuck me with them. Don’t do it until you make me come all over the floor.”
I smile slowly at him. “Is that what you need to make yourself feel better? Pretend you don’t want it.”
He continues pointing his half-lidded stare in my direction. “Don’t,” he repeats.
I unhurriedly bring my fingers up to my mouth, sticking them inside and closing my lips. I swirl my tongue around them, making them as wet as I can. He doesn’t look away. His breathing picks up, chest panting as he watches me prep my fingers for him.
I pop them out of my mouth and bring them back to him, rubbing the spit back and forth across his tight hole.
“Ummmff. Fuck,” he groans and throws his head back to the floor, arching his back and sending his ass higher in the air. It’s a striking site. It makes my dick hurt more than it already does. I feel like I might come in my pants from how fucking sexy he is.
Declan. The guy who hates me. Who tells me to fuck off every chance he gets, is begging—in a way that only Declan would—to be fucked by my fingers.
I apply pressure and watch his ass suck my two fingers inside.
He freezes up on a gasp.
“You okay?” I ask while gently caressing my free hand over his abused cheeks.
He lets out a ragged breath. “Shut up. I’m-I’m fine.” Despite his harsh words, his tone is quiet.