Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
D eclan
We might not have a future, but we have a present, and everything in me wants her.
With her hands fisted in my hair, she moans as I kiss her through her orgasm. It isn’t enough. I’m in love with her, desperately, wildly, and the thought that she might leave in the morning slashes through me. I need to do more. I have to give her a reason…if not to stay, to come back.
“Do you want a drink?” I say, my voice husky. Reluctantly I look up from her nipple ring—seriously, I’m ruined for other women after Daughtry—and into her face. Tears collect at the corners of her eyes, and I bolt upright. “Shit, Daughtry. Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I—”
“No, you didn’t hurt me. It was wonderful.” She wipes away the tears with the back of her hand. “Honestly, it’s just the sex hormones. And I realized I’m leaving tomorrow, and it just all feels like a lot. ”
I pull her to a sitting position in front of me, and wrap my arms around her. Her head nestles just under my chin, and it all feels so right. Like I’ve been waiting for her my entire life, and now my body is saying, good, let’s get on with it already.
I want to ask if she has to leave, if there’s any way she could stay, but that’s selfish. I know that. She has her career, and who am I?
A stepping stone. A tangle in her bedsheets. A footnote on her sheet music.
The thought of that riles me up, almost more than seeing her nipple ring.
Almost, because it’s a fucking nipple ring adorning Daughtry’s completely perfect-for-me breasts. Nothing else will ever compare.
Running my hand up the back of her shirt, I cradle her against me. I don’t want to be forgettable. I want to imprint myself on her the way she has on me. “We’ll have to make this time memorable, then.”
She glances up at me, tears drying on her cheeks. “What did you have in mind?”
I lean over the bar and fetch a glass and a bottle of the rosé. “Have a drink with me.” I pour the strawberry-pink liquid into the glass, not splashing a single drop. Years of working at the tasting room finally has a benefit. “It matches your hair.”
“So it does.” She goes to take the glass from me, but I hold it to my lips instead. The wine covers my tongue, filling my palate and my senses with its light, springy pop of flavor. She arches her eyebrow. “When is it my turn?”
I can’t answer her with a mouth full of wine, so I set the glass down, place my hand on the back of her neck, and pull her toward me. We kiss, long and slow, and I let some of the wine in my mouth drip into hers. She moans as it spreads across her tongue, then again when I sweep my tongue through her mouth. Tasting her with the wine is a whole other level of sensation.
“More,” she groans. She wiggles her hips, shuffling her leggings down her thighs and past her knees.
I would have given her everything, if she only asked. Instead, I take another small sip of wine, warming it in my mouth. Then I break away from her sweet, swollen lips, and press my kisses to her pussy instead. She arches into me, seeking more contact, panting with want.
I’m not going to rush this moment. She tastes heavenly, musky and sweet, the acidity in the wine cutting through to make her the most delicious dessert. I find her clit and clamp my lips around the nub of nerves, suckling and nipping.
“Fuck, yes, Declan,” she whispers, grinding her pelvis against my mouth. Good. I want her to ride me. I want to fuck the memories of every other guy out of her, the way she has for me. “The only thing I don’t like about this is I can’t hear all those dirty words you whisper when you fuck me.”
“I’m saving them for later.” I guide two fingers into her channel, letting her warmth wrap around me and picturing the way it will feel when she surrounds my dick like this.
“How could I not love this?” She grips my hair and pulls my face further into her, then arches her hips, drawing my fingers deeper, where she wants them. I’m now her willing accomplice. It’s fine. I have my plans. “You are unbelievable, Declan.”
“Are you going to come for me, good girl?” I stroke the inner walls of her pussy, loving the way it makes her entire body shiver. “Are you getting cold? Can I warm you up?”
“You already are,” she replies, her teeth chattering slightly. “Keep going.”
I pull off my sweatshirt and lay it across her, then return to my ministrations on her pussy. Within moments, she writhes again, grasping at me, pulling at me, begging me for more. “I don’t understand. I’ve never begged,” she says, breathless.
“If I’m not making you beg, I’m doing it wrong.” I curl my fingers and suck hard on her clit, and she bends nearly in half, coating me with her sweet juice. I am so in love with Daughtry Sutcliffe.
I don’t wait for her to finish her orgasm. In one motion, I strip her leggings down her thighs and off one ankle. “Ready for me?”
“Yes. Condom?”
Right. Safety first. I dash to the counter. Ciaran keeps a box at the very back of the receipt cabinet. Only time he’s ever been useful.
I return to her, only to find her splayed across the bar, legs wide and waiting, a sinfully wicked grin on her face. Her pink hair spreads across the countertop like an algae bloom, and I have never seen anything so beautiful.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” she says.
I unzip my pants and my cock practically leaps out, narrowly missing my zipper. I don’t care. I step between her legs and sheathe myself as she watches, her tongue running across her lips. “I’ll make the wait worth your while.”
“Big talk—” but then her mouth opens in a round O of pleasure, as I lift one of her legs to rest on my shoulder. I slide into her in one smooth thrust. “Yes. Declan, yes.”
I picture a million moments like this ahead of us. I wrap her other leg around my waist and slide deeper into her hot, wet pussy. “Yes,” I repeat, thrusting slow and measured. “Yes to you, Daughtry. You want dirty talk?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, closing her eyes and grasping for me. I lean down, letting her wrap her arms around me. She digs her fingertips into my back, marking me. I keep thrusting, making her feel exactly how much I care about her. “Declan, this feels so good. ”
“You feel so good.” I lose myself in the slow, measured work of fucking Daughtry, the way I’ve always imagined. “This isn’t the right time, and you want dirty talk, but here’s the filthiest thing I can imagine. I want you, Daughtry. I always have. I want a future with you. I want to wake up with you in my arms. I want to make you pancakes, grilled cheese, and pasta. You gave me your panties earlier today? They’ve been in my pocket this whole time, reminding me how good you smell, how perfect you feel. When you’re on the road, I want you to send me your panties once a week. Wear them when you’re thinking of me, and I’ll feel like I’m right next to you.”
She moans and rakes her nails down my chest and back. “Yes. I don’t know why I’m into that, but yes.”
I lean over her, covering her with my body, pressing her leg backward. “Open up for me, good girl. Because I love you. Now and always. We aren’t covalent bonds, we’re atomic. You might not feel that way now, but I think you will one day. I’m going to spread you wide and fuck you until you see it.”
“I do.” She cries out, arching her pelvis into me, asking for more. I quicken my pace, thrusting harder and deeper. “Fuck, Dec, I think I might love you, too.”
“I can work with that.” My eyes cloud with lust as I drive into her, pounding her against the counter, losing myself in her cries of pleasure.
She digs her nails into my skin, using me as leverage to rub her clit against me. A few moments later, she cries out, squeezing around me as she comes for a third time.
As she clenches around me, I relax, sitting back and letting her milk my orgasm from me. I rub her clit in tight little circles as I release into her.
“Declan.” She pants the words, but she looks wrecked and spent, naked and splayed across the bar as she is. “Fuck yes, Declan. Definitely worth the wait.”
This is the best I’ve ever felt. For once, I just know everything will be okay.
I carry her back to the cottage like a prince who has just rescued a damsel from a dragon. Not that Daughtry needs rescuing.
She needs love, and I can give that to her. My family, we’re here for her. She only needs to believe it.
Propping her in the shower, I clean her gently, then towel her off and wrap her in the thick blankets of her bed. I fill her bedside glass with iced water and bring her a bowl of my mom’s homemade vanilla ice cream with a peanut butter swirl.
“Stay with me,” she whispers.
I only war with myself for a moment. Alex is fine. My mom is there in the house with him, and I have my phone with me if he needs anything. I want this moment with her, because it all feels too fragile, like a single feather caught in the wind.