Chapter 39 #2
Across the street, the bar door swung open.
Light and noise flooded the sidewalk as people poured out, laughing and talking.
Penelope jerked against me, a soft moan escaping before she could catch it.
Her pussy pulsed around my finger, and I added a second one, sinking deep and giving her what she needed.
“Such a good girl for me.” I rasped, pressing a kiss to the spot below her ear that always made her shiver. “Letting me touch you out here. Letting me feel how wet you are. How fucking ready you are for my cock.”
She whimpered—small and needy—and I tightened my arm around her waist, holding her steady while I worked her over with my fingers.
Slow, deep strokes that curled at the top.
That made her rock her hips into my hand, chasing the rhythm I’d set—not quite fast enough to get her there yet but enough to make her ache for release.
“I’m going to give it to you the second we get home.” I brushed my lips over the shell of her ear with each word. “But first, I’m going to make you come right here. Where anyone could walk by and see exactly how dirty my good girl likes to be.”
A moan slipped out of her, broken and breathless, and the sound carved itself into my memory like a tattoo I’d never be able to cover. Wouldn’t want to.
I pressed my thumb harder against her clit, continually brushing my fingers over the spot inside her that made her quake, and felt her start to unravel.
The bar door opened again as more people spilled into the street. She gasped and clenched around me, but I didn’t let up. Didn’t slow down. Just held her tighter, my mouth at her ear, my fingers buried deep, and my thumb driving her toward ecstasy.
“Oh god,” she breathed, lips parted and eyes glazed as she stared across the street. Her gaze was glued to the door. On the people who continued trailing out.
And every time they did, every time someone stumbled outside, their laughter and conversation breaking through the otherwise quiet night, she moaned, her pussy pulsing around my fingers. The idea of getting caught both thrilling and terrifying her.
This time when the door opened and someone stepped out, they looked around before glancing directly toward the alley.
And even though I knew we were tucked far enough back that they wouldn’t be able to see what I was doing to Penelope, she didn’t.
Her whole body locked up, caught on that razor-thin line between humiliation and heat, one heartbeat away from either running or unraveling.
But we both knew which direction she’d fall.
“You think he can see you?” I murmured, speeding up my movements. “You think he knows your needy little cunt is soaking my fingers?”
“Declan—” she choked out, her pussy tightening…tightening…
“Eyes on me, rebel. Let me see my good girl fall apart,” I said, my voice low and frayed, my cock hard as fucking iron in my jeans. “And say my name when you come all over my hand.”
She tore her gaze from the bar, locked her eyes on mine, and exploded.
Mouth open, body trembling, hands clutching my T-shirt, she came hard, her pussy squeezing my pumping fingers with every wave that washed over her.
My name fell from her lips in a fractured whisper, barely more than a breath, and she held my stare the entire time.
Like I was the only fixed point in a world that had just tipped sideways.
I kept my arm around her waist, my hand working between her thighs to draw out every ounce of pleasure until, finally, her breathing slowed and her body stopped shaking.
I eased my fingers out of her gently and sucked them between my lips, my eyes locked on hers as I hummed low in my throat. “My good girl tastes so goddamn sweet.”
Color bloomed on her cheeks, and I couldn’t help but marvel over the contradiction of this woman—brazen enough to grind against my hand in a back alley like she’d lose her mind if I didn’t make her come but still blushing when I mentioned how good she tasted.
Reaching down, I smoothed her dress back into place before tugging her into my chest. She sagged against me, boneless and quiet, her face pressed into the side of my neck, and I just wanted to stay right here, basking in whatever the hell this was.
I wrapped both arms around her and held on tight. Pressed my lips to the top of her head and breathed her in. Neither of us spoke. The alley was dark and quiet, the commotion from the bar turning into static background noise, and for a few moments, the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Then she tipped her head back to look up at me, brushing her fingers along my jaw. “Do you like knowing you’re the only one who gets to see me like this?”
My hands tightened at her waist before I could stop them.
The words didn’t just hit somewhere in my chest—they split me open.
I’d spent years bracing for people to leave, for the moment they’d decide I wasn’t worth staying for.
And here she was—deciding I was the one and only person who ever got to see this version of her.
Choosing me in a way I’d never been chosen before.
I brushed my nose along her temple and dragged in a slow breath. “I’m not good at sharing, rebel.”
I pulled back in time to see her expression shift. Something warm and dangerous and terrifyingly close to the thing I’d been pretending I wasn’t feeling settling in her gaze. She rose on to her toes and kissed me, slow and sweet—completely at odds with what we’d just done.
But it didn’t matter if it was heat or something softer arcing between us—we never seemed to know how to keep it just surface level.
And every moment we shared felt dangerously intimate for something we kept insisting was temporary.