13. Chapter 12
Declan
Icarry her down the hallway with her legs wrapped around my waist and her mouth still on mine, and I don't think I've ever wanted anything the way I want her right now.
Because here's the thing about what I just heard out there on that couch.
Some woman who's supposed to love this girl more than anything in the world, looked at the most incredible person I've ever met and decided she was broken. Decided that loving hockey, loving the thing her father loved, loving the thing that makes her her, was some kind of defect to be corrected.
And it makes my blood run hot in a way I haven't felt since I was twelve years old.
People are idiots with the ones they're supposed to protect. And I'll be damned if I'm not going to spend tonight reminding Josie Whitfield exactly how un-broken she is.
I shoulder my bedroom door open, and—
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Biscuit lifts his head from the foot of my bed, blinking at us with the lazy entitlement of a dog who pays no rent and owns the entire estate. His tail gives one slow, hopeful thump against the duvet.
Josie's hand, which a second ago was sliding very deliberately over the very obvious situation in my pants, goes completely still.
"Is that—"
"He sleeps in here. I don't know how it happened."
"You don't know how it happened?" She bites back a laugh, her palm still pressed maddeningly against my throbbing cock. "Declan. He's in your bed."
"Yes, I can see that! And I don't know how to stop it!" I say, trying my hardest to balance Josie in my arms while flapping Biscuit off my damn bed. "He just… he walked in one night and I didn't have the energy to move him."
"Mm-hm." Her eyes are dancing now. "And every night since?"
"We're not discussing this right now." I lower Josie to the floor and clap my hands. "Biscuit. Out!"
The dog stretches, yawns with his whole soul, and looks profoundly betrayed.
"Buddy. Please. I'm begging you. There are things about to happen in here that you do not need to witness."
"He's traumatized." Josie's full-on grinning. "Look at his little face."
"His little face is fine. Out."
Biscuit slithers off the bed with the dignity of a deposed king, trots past us, and pauses in the doorway to throw me one last wounded look.
I shut the door in his face and flip the lock.
And then I just… turn around and look at her.
She's standing in the moonlight pouring through my windows, swallowed up in my jersey, her hair a mess from crying and her cheeks still flushed and those green eyes blown wide.
"You," I say, low, "are the fucking sexiest thing in the world."
She laughs, that surprised little huff of air. "So I'm a thing now? Not even a woman?"
"You can be whatever you want to be." I close the distance, slide a hand into her hair, and drop my mouth to that spot below her ear. I bite down and groan at the taste of her skin. "But tonight, you're mine."
I reach around and give her ass a playful smack.
She moans, a soft broken sound that goes straight to my cock, and I push her back until the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she falls onto it.
I stand over her, every muscle in my body screaming, my cock so hard it aches against the zip. Her hands come up to claw at the hem of my shirt, and I peel it over my head and let it drop to the floor.
"Fuck," she breathes, her nails raking down my abs, leaving thin white lines as she reaches for my waistband. "I need—let me—"
She kisses a trail down my chest, my stomach, heading lower towards the V-cut that disappears below my waistband. The heat of her tongue across my skin is enough to make me groan into the air.
Her hands slide down, fingers fumbling with the button on my jeans. “I need to taste you.”
Her eyes are dark with hunger, pupils blown wide as she looks up at me from the edge of the bed, and fuck, the sight of her mouth parted, wanting, needing my cock… it nearly undoes me right here.
And the fact that she’s not asking. She’s telling me.
Like it’s the only thing she’s thought about since the last time she had me in her mouth. That thought alone sends a jolt of pure, possessive heat straight to my already-throbbing cock.
I catch her wrist. "You first."
"Declan—"
"I said you first. Always you first."
I drop to my knees at the edge of the bed and hook my fingers in the waistband of her leggings. She's soft and warm, and I take my time dragging them down her legs in one smooth pull.
She lays back for me, baring herself completely.
"And there she is."
I lean forward, inhaling her musky scent. Her pussy is pink and glistening and spread open in the low light of my bedroom like the answer to a question I've been asking my whole life.
What did I do to deserve this?
"Look at you," I growl, hooking her thighs over my shoulders as I press a kiss to the inside of her leg. "Already this wet for me. So fucking pretty, Jose."
She shivers as my nose nudges her clit. "Declan—"
"I mean it." Another kiss. Higher. "Every goddamn inch of you."
Her fingers find my hair, gripping tight.
I lean in and taste her.
"Please—"
"I've got you." I press a kiss to her inner thigh, then another, higher. "Gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel as good as you need."
And then I lick straight through her.
She shatters against my mouth, her hips bucking up instantly, a strangled cry tearing out of her. I groan against her cunt, the taste of her flooding my tongue, and I don't let up.
I drag the flat of my tongue over her clit, again and again, fucking her with it, holding her thighs open when she tries to squirm away from the intensity.
"You have no idea," I murmur against her, "how long I've wanted to do this again."
Her hips grind against my face. "Oh… Declan."
I don't stop.
I lick her, suck her, circle her clit until she's shaking beneath me, her thighs clamping around my head, her fingers twisting in my hair.
"Fuck—I'm close—"
"That's it," I rumble, bringing my fingers to rub her clit. "Come on. Give it to me."
She comes the first time in under a minute, screaming my name loud enough to wake the dog.
I work her right through it and don't stop, sliding two fingers inside her, curling them just right while I suck her clit, and she comes again before she's even recovered from the first, her whole body convulsing, her hand fisting in my hair so hard it stings.
"Declan—Declan, oh my God—"
I finally lift my head, my mouth slick, my chin wet with her, and I crawl up her trembling body.
"You taste so fucking good," I murmur against her lips, letting her taste what I do. "Every single time."
She's panting, wrecked, eyes glassy, but she shoves at my chest, rolling me, climbing over me with surprising strength.
"Now it's my turn," she breathes. "I need to taste you."
And God, the look on her face.
This isn't the nervous woman from that first night, the one who knelt for me like she wasn't sure she was allowed to want it. This is a woman who knows exactly what she's doing to me now. Who's spent weeks thinking about it, touching herself to the memory of it.
She slides down my body and looks up at me through her lashes.
"I've been thinking about this," she whispers,
She shoves my jeans and boxers down my hips, and the second my cock springs free she wraps her hand around me and looks up through her lashes.
And then she takes me into her mouth.
"Fuck." My head drops back against the pillow. "Josie—fuck."
She moans around me, taking me deep, her tongue working the underside as she bobs her head, and the sight of her lips stretched around me, those gorgeous eyes watering, nearly fucking ends me on the spot.
"That's it," I grit out, gathering her hair in my fist. I push my hips off the bed, fucking her mouth. "Just like that. God, you love sucking my cock, don't you. Look at you."
She hums, choking herself on my length like she's been doing it her whole life, and I have to clench every muscle in my body to keep from coming down her throat.
She takes me deeper, working me with her hand and her mouth, and the confidence radiating off her… The way she's not hiding, not second-guessing, just taking what she wants.
It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"God, you're good at that."
And then she looks up at me.
While my cock is fucking down her throat.
I grip the sheets.
"Come here," I rasp, dragging her up before I lose it completely. "Come here. I need to be inside you."
I roll us, settling between her thighs, and she wraps her legs around me, pulls me down until we're chest to chest, nose to nose, eye to eye.
And everything slows.
"You're changing my life," I tell her, and I mean it down to my bones. "You know that?"
Her eyes go soft and shining. "You're changing mine too."
I drag the head of my cock through her slick heat, dragging it slow against her clit. She gasps, her hips chasing the friction.
"I came here for the easy life," I murmur against her mouth. "Where no one needed anything from me." I grind against her again, watching her lashes flutter. "Spent my whole life thinking that's what I wanted."
"And now?" Her voice is wrecked already.
"Now there's you." I press my forehead to hers. "And I don't want easy. I just want you, Josie. That's it. That's the whole list."
"Declan—"
I reach for the nightstand, fumbling blind for the foil packet I know is in the drawer—
But her hand catches my wrist.
"No," she says, staring into my eyes. "I don't want anything between us. Not tonight."
I go still, staring down at her, remembering all those things she just told me about her life. About her mother. About her father. About her.
"Josie. You sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." She drags me back down. "I want to feel you."
So I do. I slide into her, inch by inch, both of us gasping, and I stay there, buried deep, just looking at her.
I move slowly, twisting my hips, letting my cock slide deeper, watching every flicker across her face. She rakes her nails down my back hard enough to draw blood, and I welcome it.
I want the marks, I want everyone to see.