Chapter 29
JADE
"Not here," Declan had said.
But his mouth is still on mine, hot and insistent, as I wrap my legs around his waist. The water makes me weightless, buoyant, as he carries me up the pool steps like I'm nothing. His powerful hands grip my thighs, fingers digging into flesh still slick from the pool.
We break the surface, water sluicing off our bodies in silvery rivulets. The air is cool against my wet skin, raising goosebumps that have nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the way Declan looks at me. Like I'm something to be devoured.
He walks with purpose toward the pool house, his strides long and sure despite my weight. I cling to him, my arms around his neck, my mouth finding the pulse point beneath his jaw. When I let my teeth graze the spot, a shudder runs through his massive frame.
"Dangerous game, princess," he growls, the nickname new and thrilling on his lips.
Inside the pool house, the air is warm and still, heavy with anticipation. Declan kicks the door shut behind us, pressing me against the nearest wall. The impact forces a gasp from my lungs, a sound that disappears into his mouth as he claims me again.
His hands are everywhere. My waist, my hips, sliding up my sides to cup my breasts through the wet fabric of my swimsuit. When his thumbs brush across my nipples, already hard peaks straining against the black material, I arch into his touch, desperate for more.
Realizing that we are at the pool house, the shared pool house, I gasp, half out of breath, half out of conscience. "Mateo?"
His eyes, dark with need, focus on me with visible effort. "Main house," he says, voice rough. "Going through security system updates."
He dips his head, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. "He can join us next time," he adds, the words vibrating against my collarbone.
It takes a moment for the implication to register through the fog of lust. "Join us?"
Declan pauses, raising his head to meet my gaze. Despite the desire clouding his features, there's a seriousness in his eyes. "I know what's happening between the four of us, Jade. It was inevitable from the start."
Before I can respond, before I can fully process that he knows... and accepts, he's already carrying me toward the bedroom.
He sets me down at the foot of the bed, his hands reluctantly leaving my body. In the sudden absence of his touch, I feel cold despite the warmth of the room. I watch as he retrieves a towel from a hook on the wall and approaches me again, his movements careful, controlled.
"You're shivering," he says, draping the towel around my shoulders.
"Not from cold," I admit.
Something flashes in his eyes. Hunger, triumph, tenderness all mixed together. He lifts a hand to my face, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a large man. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I can't help but part my lips, drawing the tip of it into my mouth.
A sound escapes him, something between a groan and a growl. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asks, voice dropping to a register that vibrates through my body. "How long I've wanted this? Wanted you?"
"Show me," I whisper.
His control visibly fractures. He reaches for the straps of my swimsuit, sliding them down my shoulders with agonizing slowness. The wet fabric clings to my skin as he peels it down, exposing my breasts to the air, to his gaze.
"Perfect," he murmurs, and the reverence in his voice makes me feel more beautiful than any photographer's lighting or designer's clothes ever have.
I stand before him, allowing him to pull the swimsuit down my hips, my thighs, until it pools at my feet and I'm completely naked. I expect to feel vulnerable, exposed, but there's only power in the way his eyes darken as they take in every inch of me.
"Your turn," I say, reaching for the waistband of his swim shorts.
He lets me push them down his muscular thighs, stepping out of them with a grace that belies his size.
And then he's naked too, magnificent in his entirety.
My eyes travel over him, taking in the full canvas of his tattoos, the map of scars that tell stories I long to hear.
And lower, where his arousal makes it clear just how much he wants me.
"You're gorgeous," I tell him, honest in my awe.
A rueful smile touches his lips. "Damaged goods," he corrects.
I shake my head, stepping closer to place my palm against his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath my touch. "Beautiful," I insist. "Every mark. Every scar. They're part of you."
Something shifts in his expression, vulnerability breaking through the desire.
But before I can decipher it, he's lifting me again, depositing me in the center of his bed.
He follows me down, his body a delicious weight above mine, careful not to crush me but present enough that I feel surrounded by him.
His mouth finds mine again, but this kiss is different. Deeper, slower, a savoring rather than a devouring. When we break apart, both breathless, he trails his lips down my neck, my collarbone, lower still to the swell of my breast.
"I've fantasized about this," he confesses, his breath hot against my skin. "About how you'd taste. How you'd sound when I made you come."
Declan, always so stoic, so contained, now whispering filth against my skin. The shock alone could make me come.
His eyes meet mine, a wicked gleam in their depths. "I've imagined you spread out for me, just like this," he says, his voice a rough caress. "Imagined how your pretty little pussy would feel around my fingers, my tongue, my cock."
Each word is punctuated by a kiss, moving lower down my body. "Imagined how you'd clench around me when you came. How you'd scream my name."
He looks up at me from between my legs, a question in his eyes despite the confidence of his words. "Yes," I breathe, answering before he can ask. "Please, Declan."
His smile is pure sin. "Since you beg so nicely..."
The first touch of his tongue against me tears a cry from my throat. He's relentless, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on my clit. His large hands grip my thighs, keeping me open for him as I writhe beneath his mouth.
"Fuck, you taste like heaven," he groans against me. "Sweet. Wet. Mine," he murmurs, the vibration of his words adding to the sensation. "Could do this for hours. Make you come over and over until you can't remember your own name."
His mouth is relentless, licking, sucking, teasing. Each filthy word a match to gasoline. I'm unraveling fast.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging as he sucks harder, faster, until the pressure builds so high I'm shaking.
The combination of his skilled mouth and filthy words pushes me closer to the edge with astonishing speed. When he slides two thick fingers inside me, curling them to find that spot that makes me see stars, I shatter completely.
The orgasm hits like a wave breaking over stone, violent and unrelenting. My back arches, fists twist the sheets. He doesn't stop until I'm gasping, trembling, wrecked.
Only then does he pull away, pressing a final kiss to my inner thigh before moving back up my body. His mouth finds mine, and I taste myself on his lips, musky and intimate.
"That's one," he says, satisfaction evident in his voice. "I want more."
I laugh breathlessly. "Ambitious."
"Determined," he corrects, nipping at my earlobe.
As the aftershocks of my orgasm fade, I become acutely aware of his arousal pressed against my thigh. Without warning, I push against his chest, using the element of surprise to flip our positions.
He allows it, though we both know he could easily resist if he wanted to. I straddle his hips, my hands splayed across his broad chest, feeling powerful despite the significant size difference between us.
"My turn," I tell him, echoing his words from earlier.
I explore his body with hands and mouth, learning the texture of each tattoo, each scar. I press a gentle kiss to a particularly jagged mark, silently thanking whatever twist of fate allowed him to survive. To be here, with me, in this moment.
I continue my exploration, moving lower until I'm positioned between his powerful thighs. I look up at him, finding his eyes dark with anticipation, his jaw clenched with the effort of restraint.
"Jade..." he starts, but I silence him with a single stroke of my tongue along his length.
His words dissolve into a groan that seems pulled from the depths of his soul.
I take my time, learning what makes his breath catch, what draws those delicious sounds from his throat.
When I finally take him into my mouth, his hand comes to cradle the back of my head, not pushing or guiding, just connecting.
"Fuck, Jade," he breathes, his voice strained. "Your mouth... Christ, look at you."
I glance up, meeting his gaze as I take him deeper, and the naked want in his eyes nearly undoes me. There's reverence there, and hunger, and something else I'm afraid to name.
His breathing grows ragged, muscles tensing beneath my hands. "Stop," he finally gasps. "Need to be inside you. Now."
I release him, moving back up his body until I'm straddling him again. His hands grip my hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows beside my hip bones.
"Condom?" he grits, breath ragged.
"I'm on the pill. Clean."
His eyes lock on mine. "Same. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," I tell him, positioning myself above him.
That's all the confirmation we need. I sink down onto him, both of us groaning at the contact.
He's big, proportional to the rest of him, and the stretch is delicious, a burn that borders on too much but never quite crosses the line.
When he's fully seated inside me, I pause, adjusting to the feeling of fullness. His hands stroke up my sides, cupping my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples in a touch that sends sparks shooting through me.
"Ride me, Jade," he growls. "I want to feel every inch of you fuck yourself on my cock."
I roll my hips experimentally, drawing a hiss of pleasure from both of us. Finding a rhythm, I begin to ride him in earnest, hands braced on his chest for leverage. His fingers dig into my hips, guiding my movements, setting a pace that gradually increases in intensity.
"That's it," he encourages, his words becoming more fragmented as pleasure builds. "Just like that. So fucking beautiful... taking me so well."
The praise washes over me, heightening every sensation. When his thumb finds my clit, circling in time with our movements, I feel a second orgasm building with shocking speed.
"Declan," I gasp, "I'm close."
"Me too," he admits, voice strained. "Come for me. Want to feel you come on my cock."
His crude words push me over the edge. I shatter around him, inner walls clenching rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. Through the haze of my own release, I feel him tense beneath me, his rhythm faltering as he follows me into oblivion.
We stay joined for long moments afterward, both of us trembling with aftershocks.
Finally, reluctantly, I lift myself off him, collapsing beside him on the bed.
Immediately, his arm wraps around me, pulling me against his side.
I rest my head on his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat gradually slow to a more normal pace.
We lie in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. In this quiet moment, tangled together in his bed, I find myself thinking about what he said earlier. About the four of us. About it being inevitable.
Is he right? Is this complex web of feelings between all of us something that was always going to happen? And if so, where do we go from here?
But those are questions for later. For now, there's just this. Declan's solid warmth beside me, the lingering pleasure humming through my veins, and the strange, unexpected peace I feel in his arms.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new conversations, new revelations. But tonight, wrapped in Declan's embrace, I allow myself to simply be. To feel. To fall.