Chapter 3 Amelia #2
He turns around, fills two glasses with amber liquid, and then hands one to me. Our fingers brush, and I know that he feels it too when his eyes widen and his pupils blow. He knocks back his drink, stares at the empty glass as if he doesn’t know how it got there and pours himself a second shot.
I shouldn’t drink. I’m working, dinner isn’t ready yet, and more importantly, I need a clear head to defend myself against whatever accusation he’s going to throw at me. But I raise the glass to my lips anyway and take a sip.
Brandy.
I wouldn’t normally touch hard liquor, and now I know why. One sip, and my brain cells are fuzzy. How is he even still standing after knocking back a whole shot in one go?
“So?” I prompt.
He takes a deep breath like this is painful for him.
Well, I’ve got news, buddy: it’s a hell of a lot more fucking painful for me.
“I…” he can’t even look at me.
“What did I do? Was it because I asked about your wife? I know I can be a bit full-on sometimes, but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I would never—”
“It wasn’t that, Amelia.”
His soft voice with the lyrical accent that sends shivers down my spine cuts through my tirade and leaves me bewildered.
“What then?” I shake my head. He doesn’t look like a man who hires and fires without a shred of remorse.
When his eyes meet mine, I get that same feeling I had yesterday, studying his profile, that we’ve met before. But I quash it before it gets in the way of what’s really going on here.
“You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t want you to think that.”
“Ha!” I blurt out. “What am I supposed to think then?”
“This isn’t about you.”
“No? From where I’m standing, it sure feels like it is. I’m the only one around here who is unemployed now.”
“You’re not safe here.”
I wasn’t expecting this, but he isn’t joking. For one terrifyingly brief moment, I catch a glimpse of the things Declan has seen and done, like a flash of evil in a movie villain’s eyes, and then it’s gone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” There’s a tremor in my voice; the adrenaline fades as quickly as it began.
“I… I don’t trust myself to be around you.”
My heart starts doing funny things that make me feel lightheaded.
Or maybe it’s the small sip of brandy going straight to my head.
But I knew it. I knew he felt something too.
Only, I don’t know what this means. For either of us.
Especially if he’s going to be a fucking coward and push me away so that he doesn’t have to confront it.
“So, you’re firing me?”
“I have no choice, Amelia.” His voice is husky like he’s fighting a losing battle with himself.
“Don’t I get a say in it?”
“I only wish it were that simple.”
“But it can be.”
He looks at me now, and I know that we’re on the same page. I see my own desire reflected in his eyes. But it’s more than that. It’s the recognition that I felt when he introduced himself to me as if we’ve known each other before. Perhaps known each other all our lives without even realizing it.
He sets his glass down on the desk and moves closer. So close, I can see the fine, black spears carving through the cool blue of his eyes. I can smell his cologne and the brandy on his breath.
“Amelia…”
Then, he cups my face with both hands and kisses me on the lips, and I’m fisting his hair and kissing him back.
I forget that he is my boss. All I can think about is his tongue in my mouth, and his body pressed up against mine.
I don’t try to stop him when he slides his hand underneath my T-shirt.
When his fingers pull my bra away from my nipple.
When he pinches it between his fingertips and it hardens to his touch.
My hand instinctively finds his erection bulging inside his pants.
He doesn’t pull away. His hand slides around my back and releases the clasp on my bra, and I raise my arms above my head. I don’t want anything to get in our way. I want this.
I want him.
I want him to see me naked. I want him to fuck me on his desk. I want him to fuck me every way he knows how, and then I want him to tell me that he can’t let me go back to New York because he wants this as much as I do.
He’s panting when he pulls my T-shirt over my head and drops it onto the floor. My bra is already loose, and I shrug it off.
“Amelia…” He cups my breasts with both hands, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs, and I love the way he says my name. “My God you’re so fucking beautiful.”
I don’t speak. I need to hear him say that he wants me.
“Are you sure—” he begins.
“Yes!”
“I… I didn’t want to take advantage of you… I was worried that…”
“Declan, kiss me.”
His lips brush mine, and within moments, our mouths are colliding, tongues dancing around each other. He crushes my breasts with his hands, and I arch my spine, pushing against him.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Amelia,” he breathes into my mouth.
He moves me back against his desk, and I lie back. Hands around his neck, I pull him on top of me, spreading my legs and wrapping them around his waist. His erection presses against me, rock solid, and my pussy tingles in response.
“My sweatpants…” I mumble between his lips.
His hands find the waist band and tug them down over my hips. Now my legs are caught, my sweatpants bundled up between our chests, but somehow his zipper is undone, and his cock is rubbing the folds of my pussy trying to find its way in through my panties.
I don’t even realize he moved his hands until I hear my panties rip, and his cock is sliding inside me. Filling me up. Making my breath hitch in my chest.
“You feel so fucking good, Amelia. So fucking tight. I never wanted to… I mean, you’re everything I thought you would be…”
His gaze is intense. I’m mesmerized by his cool blue eyes as he grinds his shaft deep inside me. I clench around him, sucking him in. I wanted this from the first moment I saw him, but I never imagined… Never allowed myself to believe that he might want it too.
He stops grinding, just lies on top of me, supporting his weight on his elbows, and I can feel his cock pulsing inside me. An explosion waiting to erupt.
For several long, heavy breaths, he studies my face like he’s weighing up how many serious lines he’s crossing right now. Our hearts are thumping madly in our chests.
Then, “Not yet. I want to taste you first.”
He pulls out of me. His weight is gone, leaving an emptiness in my chest that my spine arches to fill again. With him. With his weight. With his erection inside me.
He pulls off my sneakers and drags my sweatpants over my legs, his gaze raking my naked body. I get my first glimpse of his cock sprung free from his pants, and I understand why it took my breath away. Long and thick, it’s … a lot.
And I want more.
Declan grips the back of my knees and pushes them towards my shoulders, raising my ass off the desk. He licks his lips and swallows. If he’s going to have second thoughts, now would be the time.
But he lowers his head and sucks on my pussy, watching my reaction with his face buried between my legs.
I gasp. Panting. This is the definition of eating pussy. He devours me with his mouth, sucking on my folds, my mound, the dip between my thighs and my torso, each suck harder. More demanding. I feel the blood drawn to the surface of my skin, and the sensation sends shivers racing around my body.
“More,” I pant.
“Oh, baby, you’re going to get it,” he murmurs into my pussy.
I press my shoulders and pelvis into the desk and tilt my face towards the ceiling, smiling.
He parts my sex with his thumbs. I wait for his tongue, and nothing happens. I picture him eating me up with his gaze, exploring me by sight first, and it’s strangely the most erotic thing that has ever happened to me. He wants to look at me.
He wants me.
When his tongue finally enters me, my orgasm is already hurtling through my core like a tornado. I let out a low moan. It doesn’t even sound like me, but I know it is me because it grows in intensity when his tongue finds the spot.
“Right … there…” I manage between pants and whimpers and feral sounds that keep my pulse spiking.
His thumb finds my clit in response. I want him to tell me how good I taste in his sexy accent, but I don’t want him to stop. He dips his thumb inside me, scooping up my slick and taking it back to my clit to keep it soft, and I lose control of my orgasm.
I grip the sides of the desk and hear something crash onto the floor. The brandy glass. The moment of panic that Orla might hear it, passes in a flash of whirling sensations centered around my core, and the throbbing in my clit.
And still, Declan doesn’t stop. His mouth takes over on my clit, sucking like nothing else exists.
Until there’s a knock on the study door.