Chapter 11
Karey Justice
I’m being stupid. A lovestruck fool. A blind idiot.
I don’t care. Declan Buchanan will not abandon me tonight. Whatever demons he fought in his dreams won’t scare me away.
“If you don’t want me to toss you over my shoulder and throw you onto my bed, you’d better get off the floor,” he growls.
Uncertainty joins the warmth slowly seeping back into my limbs. Despite my resolution to give myself to him, I never expected to nearly get choked out from waking him from a nightmare, but it’s partially my fault for not thinking of my own safety. All I wanted was to end his suffering.
I wriggle closer, enjoying the feel of his hard body and wondering what it must feel like to have all that power at his disposal.
Even though I know I’m playing with fire, I rub my thigh over his cock and squish my breasts against his ribs.
He growls and pushes me off him. Rejection slices through me and leaves a frozen tundra in its wake. He rises, scoops me off the floor, and tosses me over his shoulder as though I weigh nothing.
Relief masks the pain of his hard shoulder digging into my abdomen. My rapid breaths and pounding heart drown out my startled squeak.
“Declan! Put me down,” I demand.
Or at least I try to demand. Unexpected giggles escape my throat. A mixture of nervousness, discomfort, and dark delight frazzles my senses.
He wraps long fingers around the back of my thigh and squeezes. A breathy moan sneaks through the giggles. He slips his hand higher and brushes his thumb against my squished pussy.
I tense as he nears the bed, but he maneuvers me off his shoulder with careful control and lays me on the bed. Before I can reach for him, he flips the blankets over me and pins me down with a hand on either side of my arms.
“Go back to sleep, Karey,” he demands.
I watch in disbelief as he pulls a plush chair up beside the bed and settles his big body in it. When I finally process the unexpected change, I try for a playful tone, but emotions clog my throat and ruin the effect.
“Are you so afraid you won’t be able to find it that you’re just giving up?”
He leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. In the darkness, his eyes gleam with cold menace as he speaks.
“I don’t give up, cupcake.”
“Then what is this? Why aren’t you in the bed with me?”
“Because I don’t share.”
For the briefest of moments, I forget about my fake boyfriend and stare at him like he’s lost his mind. I consider telling him the truth and then wonder why I haven’t already. What am I protecting in continuing my lie?
Why can’t I have Declan Buchanan? Sure, he broke my heart forever ago and another betrayal will completely ruin me, but he’s here now. He saved me. I forgave him. I want him.
Except exposing my lie and explaining the nicknames proves too hard to begin, so I huff and roll to face away from him.
“You just don’t know how to handle a plus-sized woman,” I accuse.
He flicks on the bedside lamp, wraps long fingers around my shoulder, and rolls me back toward him.
“Do I look like someone who wants a toothpick?” he demands.
I squint from the brightness but enjoy studying his masculine frame.
He leans over and traps me under the blankets again.
“I need a woman who can handle me. A woman who won’t snap in two when I take her. I need hips to grab and curves to devour. I’m a hungry man, Karey.”
His eyes roam over my mummified curves as though he can’t wait to feast, but he makes no move to touch me.
“Right. Sure. Fine,” I snap to hide my breathlessness.
He growls and cups my face.
“I don’t want a snack; I want a four-course meal with courses one through four being the sweetest desserts known to mankind. I want you, cupcake,” he declares.
Impatience and annoyance bubble up in me, and I lash out in the stupidest way.
“I hate that nickname,” I say.
“Why?” he asks.
“It makes me feel fat,” I blurt.
It’s suddenly too much. His partial yet justified rejection, him looming over me without touching me, my stupid words; everything makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry.
He brushes his thumb over my cheek, and I realize he already stole my first tears when he kissed my face not long ago. Even with the heartbreak and depression, I hadn’t cried since my mother’s death until he comforted me.
I didn’t feel safe enough to mourn or express myself until he came back.
“Baby, you are not fat. Never once have I ever insinuated you are. Your body is perfect,” he murmurs.
I study the fierceness of his expression before asking, “Then why cupcake?”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. Guilt burns like acid in my veins.
“You don’t remember?” he asks.
I swallow and shake my head in shame.
“The same day I tripped that piece of shit kid for pulling your hair, you gave me your cupcake. It was the only dessert you had in your lunchbox that day, but you said knights deserve a reward for saving their princess. It was your first bribe to win my heart.”
Too many emotions stampede through my heart for me to express. My mouth moves without permission.
“I’m a virgin and don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Never been in a relationship except for with you. Ever.”
Oh god, I want to melt into the mattress and never return. My mortification grows as my words hang unanswered in the air.
He shifts one hand to my nape and the other to my chin and commands my attention with his intense grey eyes.
“I don’t fucking deserve you, but I can’t fucking let you go, either. I need you, Karey.”
My insides turn to goo. His gaze slips down to my lips. Need throbs between my legs. I reach for him but get tangled in the sheets instead.
He kisses me. Not the gentle, reverent brushes of his lips over my face, but a dark and sensual merging of our mouths. The hot glide of his tongue against mine arrows straight to my clit, and I rub my thighs together to ease the ache, but it only grows.
He yanks the blankets off the bed and climbs on top of me without breaking our kiss. I whimper at his overwhelming size and strength as he holds himself up instead of crushing me, but as much as I adore his thoughtfulness, I ache to feel every inch of him pressed against every inch of me.
He tightens his grip on my nape, ensuring I can’t move my head since his long fingers span from collarbone to collarbone, and spears his other hand into my hair. I groan and arch my back, shamelessly rubbing my breasts against the hard planes of his chest.
He groans, rips his mouth away from mine, and consumes a path to my ear.
“Tell me if I’m too rough. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His deep, gravelly voice rumbles through me like thunder.
A bolt of lightning follows, zapping my nipples and liquifying my core.
Arousal floods my panties, and in my mania, a small part of me chuckles at the demise of my only pair of clean underwear since I donned the emergency pair from my work bag after my shower.
He licks the shell of my ear.
Mini shocks ripple through me. My breath stutters. I writhe and cling to him, desperate for something I can’t name.
He consumes me, carrying out his promise and exploring every inch of me with his mouth and hands.
I gasp as he licks and nibbles, caresses and teases, and commands and worships his way down my body, stripping me of clothes and stealing me of thoughts until the throbbing of my clit and pressure in my core is too much.
A half-moan, half-sob escapes me as he settles his bare torso between my legs, cups my naked breasts in his massive hands, and buries his face in between. I bask in sensual torture as he kneads, nips, and sucks my sensitive flesh.
With wicked precision and coordination, he pinches my right nipple and flicks the tip of his tongue over my left.
I arch my back and forget my name.
He continues lower. I can’t breathe. Lower still. Pressure builds.
I sink my hands into his hair and tug at the silky strands as he wraps my legs around his shoulders. With his face a few inches away from my pussy, he meets my eyes and smirks.
“Pull my hair all you want, cupcake, just know I won’t stop feasting on your pussy until I’m full. Understand?”
I nod yes and no, eager and yet terrified.
“Fucking hell, you smell divine,” he growls.
He dives in, running the flat of his tongue over my exposed pussy before closing his mouth over my entire sex.
I combust.
He doesn’t stop. Sweat drips down my body. I scratch his scalp. His groan vibrates between my legs.
I lose myself in his mastery of my body until pleasure teeters on the edge of pain. Limp from countless orgasms and shaking from euphoria, I welcome him into my arms as he settles his gigantic body onto mine.
The hot, sensual stretch of his invasion sends me into another plane of existence. Despite his size, I feel only pleasure as he joins our bodies in one glorious rush.
His first thrust alters reality. His second sends a diabolical shockwave from my womb outward, leaving no part of me unscathed. His third plunges me into both heaven and hell as I orgasm harder and deeper than ever before.
Time warps. I relish every second of our coupling while drowning in bliss.
When Declan grabs my hips, lifts my ass off the bed, and hits a new angle inside me, I die a million euphoric deaths. Over and over again until my vision dims and thoughts seize. I can’t breathe. Can’t stop the full-body contraction. Can’t help the gush of fluid spurting between our bodies.
“Fuck, Karey, yes. Squirt all over me. More. Goddamn, you’re so tight and wet and I—”
His fingertips sink deep enough to bruise, but the pain only heightens my release.
He shouts, shoves himself impossibly deeper, and throws his head back with a mesmerizing groan as his cock jerks and spurts deep inside me. For long, wonderful moments, he grips my hips painfully tight and releases his pleasure inside my body. Feminine pride sprouts deep within me.
I did that. Me. I brought this incredibly powerful man to his knees. I ripped away his defenses and exposed his inner depths.
Mine. He’s mine.
All mine.
I sigh and drift into bliss.