10. Declan #3
I kiss him, then shift us carefully until he’s on his back in the middle of the nest, blankets tangling around our legs.
I settle over him, my body covering his, but I keep my weight on my forearms. The space between our chests feels charged.
He looks so small beneath me like this, swallowed by the nest and my shadow, and the sight of it—him, pinned and wanting and mine—makes my control fray at the edges.
His hands slide from my shoulders down my back, his palms flat and warm. “You,” he says, his voice quiet. “Just you. Slow.”
“Slow,” I agree.
I start to move, and each deep, deliberate thrust drags a wrecked sound out of him.
Shay’s legs lock around my waist, opening for me, slick everywhere between us.
The involuntary clench of his body when I bottom out makes my arms shake with the effort of holding back.
He’s so tight, so hot, so impossibly small around me.
“Fuck,” he gasps out, his head falling back. “You’re so big.”
“You’re taking all of me,” I tell him, my voice rough against his ear.
“Barely,” he says, but his hips meet my next push. “Show-off.”
A laugh grinds out of me. “There’s that mouth.”
“Thought you liked my mouth.”
“I love your mouth.”
He goes completely still beneath me. For a beat, I think I’ve said the wrong thing, pushed too far. Then his hand comes up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my beard. “Say it again.”
The words are right there. They’ve been there for weeks. “I love your mouth,” I repeat, kissing him. “I love that you stole my bar towel and tried to act like you didn’t know what it meant.” The rest of it comes out in a rush that tightens my chest. “I love you.”
The air leaves the room. I keep moving, a slow, steady rhythm, because if I stop it becomes a question, and I’m not asking. My chest hovers inches from his, the space between us charged. His scent spikes, sharp and sweet with panic.
“You can’t,” he whispers, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “You can’t just say that while you’re fucking me.”
“It’s the only time I was brave enough.”
“That’s cheating,” he breathes. His body tightens around me, a hard, involuntary clench, and his eyes screw shut. A raw sound tears out of him as he comes, and that’s all it takes to push me over.
My knot swells, hard and fast. “Shay,” I groan against his neck. “I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna fill you up.”
“Yes.” He grabs my head, pulls my mouth to his. “Do it. Please.”
I thrust one last time, deep. The knot catches, stretches him, and then sinks home, locking us together.
He cries out, a thin, high sound as I push through, and the feel of him locked around my knot, stretched to his limit, sends a vicious surge of satisfaction through my whole body. Mine. Finally mine.
“Got you,” I murmur against his skin. “I’ve got you.”
My release floods him, pulse after pulse. He trembles, holding on to me, his legs and arms wrapped tight. There’s nowhere for either of us to go.
When the shudders finally stop, I lower myself carefully, trying to keep my weight off him. Shay turns his head, burying his face in my neck. He just breathes. A low rumble starts in his chest, so quiet I almost miss it. His purr.
The sound unravels something inside me. All the tension I carry in my shoulders just dissolves.
“You okay?” I ask into his hair.
He makes a soft noise of assent.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says, his voice muffled by my skin. “I’m… really good.” His hands start rubbing slow circles on my back.
I kiss his temple, then the claiming mark on his neck. I scent him properly, dragging my cheek along his jaw, breathing him in until I feel steady again.
He shifts, just an inch, and presses his nose to the gland under my ear. He breathes me in, and my whole body goes quiet and still.
“Mine,” I murmur against his hair.
He makes a soft sound in his chest, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Shut up,” he whispers, but his arms tighten around me. He shifts, just enough for the knot to allow, and pulls one of the blankets up over our shoulders.
I look around at the nest he’s built. My shirts are wadded up near his head, the bar towel tucked by his hip. For years, this apartment has just been the place I sleep after I lock up. Proof that I could make it on my own, that I never had to go home a failure. It was enough.
But seeing him here, warm and real and tied to me in the middle of it all… this is something else entirely.
A phone buzzes from the floor. Mine. I ignore it.
A few seconds later, another one vibrates on the nightstand. His.
The low purr in Shay’s chest cuts off like a switch was flipped. He goes rigid under me, a sudden, sharp tension that travels right through my own body.
“Hey,” I say softly. “It’s okay.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. He reaches for the phone, his hand not quite steady.
The screen casts a blue light over his face, erasing all the warmth that was there a second ago.
His scent sours, the rich chocolate note cut through with something sharp, like burnt sugar and fear. It hits the back of my throat.
“Shay? What is it?”
He just stares at the screen, his thumb hovering over the notification.
Then, so quiet I can barely hear it, he says, “It’s my mom.”