Chapter Sixty-Nine
Declan
His breath is ragged against my mouth, his body wound tight under mine, and still, I can’t stop. This shouldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. Not after everything we said. The second I kissed him, my restraint snapped. Gone. Vaporized by the way he gasped into me. And I don’t care.
Not when he’s pulling me closer, fingers tangling in my hair, brushing over my beard, touching every inch of me that he can. Gripping the back of his neck, I feel the thrum of his pulse as I leave open-mouthed kisses there, sucking and nipping at skin I never thought I’d have the chance to again.
“Dec,” he moans, my nickname sending shivers down my overheated body as he tilts his head for me. “Please.”
His hoodie is gone in seconds, his T-shirt shoved up.
My hands skim over his bare skin, warm and alive and so fucking perfect as my hands travels across, banding around his back.
He groans my name like a confession, head hitting the wall with a dull thud as his hips grind up into mine, his cock thick and hot against me through the denim of our jeans.
God, I’ve missed this.
Missed the way he moves, the way he reacts, the way he always gives with no hesitation, no second-guessing, just offering himself up like he remembers exactly how I like to take him.
My mouth drags down his throat again, licking, biting, claiming.
I want him to see this tomorrow, to look at himself in the mirror and fucking ache for me.
He yanks at my shirt, hands everywhere, greedy and desperate, sliding over my abs, my pecs, licking his lips as his thumbs brush over my nipples. His fingers graze over the dusting of hair on my stomach, and he shivers like it’s too much and not enough all at once.
“So fucking sexy,” he murmurs, voice like gravel, his mouth drifting lower, tongue flicking over my heated flesh.
And when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, teeth catching, I swear to God…
I lose my fucking mind. A guttural sound tears out of me as I tug him back up, grabbing his neck and guiding him into another bruising kiss.
Clinging to me, his nails bite into my skin, bruising.
Good. I want them all.
My hands roam down his chest, working open the button of his jeans.
Groaning into my mouth, his hips jerk forward when I slip inside, palming him through his boxer-briefs.
Then instinct takes over. I lift him, hands locking around his thighs, his flushed skin warm against mine, relishing the way he wraps them around me.
Walking across my office, I drop him onto my desk, papers scattering to the floor, but nothing matters except the way he drags me back into him, our bodies tangling together. His hard cock juts out above the waistband of his boxer-briefs, the head flushed, leaking, desperate for me.
And fuck, the sight of him like this nearly brings me to my knees.
For years, I thought I’d never get this again. Not his body. Not the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only one who’s ever touched him right.
I circle my thumb over the slick tip, watching him fall apart from just that. He moans loudly, and it shoots straight through me, hot and so fucking earned. Biting his lower lip, I tug hard enough to make him shiver, until his breath catches and his pupils dilate.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” I rasp reverently, shaking with restraint.
“Then show me.”
Fingers fumble with my belt, metal clinking as he works the buckle open.
It loosens with a jerk, hanging low around my hips as he goes straight for the button on my jeans.
His fingers are clumsy, shaking as he drags the zipper down, moving so torturously slow, I swear he’s going to kill me.
Then his hands are on me, wrapping around my cock like he’s been dying to touch it again.
The breath rushes out of me at his first stroke, the sound of my heartbeat flooding my ears as he watches me, lips kiss-bitten, eyes wide, so fucking beautiful. He moves like he’s about to drop to his knees, but I stop him, tugging his underwear down instead and taking us both in my fist.
“Oh fuck.” His head falls back, throat exposed, lips parted as he rolls against me.
The hot, smooth slide of him against my cock makes my eyes roll. I clench my teeth together at the memory of him, of us, as I fight the instinct to just let go.
It’s too good. Too fucking good.
“Don’t stop, Dec,” he pants. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
Couldn’t if I tried; his voice is enough to keep me here forever.
I run my free hand up his chest, rediscovering the body I used to know better than my own.
Older now, harder, but still so fucking him.
My mouth moves along his jaw, down his neck, across his collarbone, tongue licking a slow path as I sink to my knees.
His hands dive into my hair, tightening as I flatten my tongue and lick up his length.
“Dec.” My name is a broken pant, the sound cutting off when I suck the head of his cock between my lips, just enough to taste.
Then I yank his boxer-briefs completely down his legs and flip him over the desk.
He hisses the moment his chest touches the wood, his perfect ass arching up like he remembers, like his body has been waiting.
He’s gorgeous like this. Shaking and offering more.
“What are you— Nrgghhh.”
I spread him open, swiping up the center, teasing the tight ring of muscle until he moans, loud and filthy and completely undone.
He reaches back to grab my hair and pull me closer.
I let him—hell, I lean into it. His hole twitches under the pressure, and I fucking groan, tasting his desperation as he rocks against me.
Pushing deeper, he cries out, the scrape of my beard catching the soft skin of his thighs, his ass.
I know it’s rough, raw, maybe too much, but the way he shudders and backs into spurs me on.
He grinds against my face, chasing every flick of my tongue like he’s not in control of his own body anymore. His moans grow higher and frantic, hips stuttering as I fuck him with my mouth, spit slicking everything up.
“I’m so close,” he gasps, body coiled tight, hips rolling back.
My fingers tighten punishingly into his muscles, driving my tongue deeper, relentless, spit running down my chin. His thighs are shaking, and I don’t stop, not when he arches like that, not when he lets out a wrecked little sound and spreads himself wider for me.
“Fuck— Fuck, Declan—”
My name falls from his lips like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it.
I groan into his hole, thrust harder, grip his ass tighter, want him marked up from my stubble, want him red from it.
He jerks once, hard, then turns completely still for a beat before he completely comes apart.
His whole body convulses, muscles locking, then shattering as he screams my name, spilling across the side of the desk, helpless and filthy and fucking mine.
I don’t stop, keep licking him through it, eating every twitch, every aftershock, holding him open with both hands while he moans above me.
His hole clenches around me, fluttering with every wave, and I fucking growl, tearing myself away to stand up, hand braced on the back of his shoulder, fist strangling my cock as I hold him down, ready to coat his back in my cum.
I can barely breathe. One slick stroke, and I’m coming, hips jerking forward as I paint him with it.
My head tips back, throat tight, groaning through gritted teeth like it’s been ripped out of me.
Thick, white ropes splash across his spine, his lower back, the swell of his ass, and I don’t stop there.
I rub it in with the tips of my fingers, slow, deliberate circles, working it into his skin like I want it to stay.
He’s limp over my desk, chest heaving, arms splayed out like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. “I fucking love getting my ass eaten.”
My hand goes still at the sound of his slurred, lazy, completely fucked-out voice. He doesn’t notice, sighing happily to himself. Heat rolls through me, dark and possessive as I stand there, looking down at him.
“Yeah?” I murmur, voice low, leaning over him, my lips ghosting the shell of his ear. “When I’m the one who’s just made you come with my tongue in your ass, don’t you fucking dare think about anyone else.”
He lets out a soft, wrecked laugh, but I grab his chin and turn his head, making him look at me.
“Don’t play with me, Cooper. Not about this.”
“I’m not,” he says, still breathing hard. “I’ve not let anyone near my ass since you.”
My breath catches at that. “What?”
His grin is wicked. “Well, unless you count something rubber when it’s just been me alone in my room and horny as hell.” He shifts under my grip, tilting his head to kiss my wrist. “It’s yours, Dec. It’s always been yours.”
It’s a confession, not a way to break me, just the truth.
He leans back into me, still bent over the desk, still sticky with my cum. My grip eases off him, letting him turn, the movements slow, heavy with the afterglow of his orgasm. His smirk’s blissed out as he takes my cock and gives it one last stroke before I hiss and swat his hand away.
“You trying to kill me?” I mutter, pulse still hammering, sweat starting to cool fast on my skin.
He laughs, lightly trailing his fingers up my stomach, sliding them behind my neck and pulling me to meet his eyes.
“I love you.”
I stare at him, frozen, no oxygen, no thoughts, just a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
My heart punches hard, brutal almost, a shock wave rippling through every fiber in my body.
A half-huff, half-laugh bursts from my lungs, the sound a little stunned, because of course he’d say this now.
When I’ve spent most of my adult fucking life pretending I could live without hearing those exact goddamn words.
I don’t move, can’t, caught between kissing him senseless and wanting to shake him for choosing this moment—this impossible, ridiculous moment—to give me everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Are you— Jesus, Cooper. Seriously?”
He grins, reaching up to run his nose along mine. Pushing him back, I hold him with straight arms.
“You’re telling me you love me? Now? After I’ve had you bent over my desk with cum running down your back?”
He shrugs, not even pretending to be sorry. “Seemed like the right time.”
“You couldn’t have picked… Fuck, I don’t know. Any other time?”
“When’s a better time than right after the best orgasm of my life, delivered by the man I’ve been in love with for probably as long as he’s loved me, only I was too blind to see it?
” He tilts his head, eyes shining, serious.
“I mean it, Dec. I’ve wasted enough time not realizing how I feel. I’m not waiting another second.”
I grab his jaw again, tugging him into me, kissing him before he can say anything else.
He hums into it, all pleased and soft and so damn dangerous.
The kind of dangerous that makes you forget the consequences, falling back into the same patterns where you let yourself have this, because the gravity of it is better than not having it at all.
And standing here, mouth warm and familiar against mine, it’s easy to pretend this can be simple.
Forget the tours, the planes, that his life is in a different state—a whole damn country—away from here.
And he’s Reign Cooper, for fuck’s sake. No matter how many times he’ll try to say it, people like him can’t stay.
“I love tasting myself on you,” he whispers, tongue flicking out to catch the edge of my lips.
The contact’s too much, too charged, intimate, everything slamming into me at once. Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead to his.
“Cooper, I—” I move back, tucking myself away. “I— Fuck, I can’t…”
His eyebrows dip, confused, still close enough that I can feel the tremble as he exhales. “Dec?”
“I need a minute,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut, as if not looking at him will quiet the riot in my head. It doesn’t; it makes it worse. “I need to get out of here.”
Hurt flashes across his face, nearly rooting me to the spot.
“It’s not you,” I force out, the cliche not lost on me. But it’s the truth. “I just… I need to think before I ruin this.”
I don’t wait for his reply, because if I do, there’s a very real possibility that I’ll stay. And if I stay, I’ll drown. Turning, I walk out of my office, the sound of his breath catching following me all the way to the door.