Elena #2
He stares at me like I've spoken a foreign language. "Elena—"
"I've been cruel to you." The words come out in a rush. If I don't say them now, I don’t know if I ever will. "I've undermined you and insulted you and tried to make you feel like you're not good enough. But the truth is, you're too good. Too decent. And I didn't know how to handle that."
"Too decent?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "I just killed a man tonight, Elena. Stabbed him because he came at me and I didn't have a choice. Another body to add to my count. There’ve been a lot more of them lately."
I reach up and touch his face, my palm against his jaw. His skin is warm and damp, stubble rough under my fingers. "You did what you had to do. That doesn't make you a bad person. You’re trying to survive in a world that's designed to destroy people like you."
He closes his eyes and leans into my touch like he's starving for it, letting out a slow breath. My heart is racing at the way he’s leaning against me, seeking out comfort from me that I don’t know if I know how to give. "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?"
"Any of it." His voice drops to barely a whisper.
"Lead. Navigate this world. Be a husband.
I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm terrified that I'm going to get more people killed.
That I'm going to—" He breaks off, opening his eyes to look at me.
"That I'm going to lose you before I ever really had you. "
My breath catches. "Declan—"
"I know you don't want this marriage. I know you were forced into it, just like I was. But I—" He swallows hard. "I want it to work. I want us to work. And I don't know how to make that happen."
There's so much pain in his voice. And looking at him now, naked except for the towel around his waist and the boxers beneath, bruised and exhausted, I realize I want him.
It has nothing to do with my duty as a wife or his demands, or anything else that is supposed to happen. I just want him.
"Declan." I slide my hand from his jaw to the back of his neck, my fingers threading through his wet hair. "You're not failing."
"Elena—"
"You're not." I pull him down toward me, rising on my toes to close the distance between us. "Here’s proof.”
His breath ghosts across my lips, and I lean in to kiss him. He hesitates for just a moment, and then lets go of the towel, his hands coming up to grip the back of my shoulders as his mouth crashes into mine.
It’s desperate and hungry, raw with the utter relief he seems to feel at being given permission to touch me again. His hands grip me, his hips arching forward to press against mine, and I feel how hard he is already. He’s so hard his cock is already pushing through the fly of his underwear.
I melt into him, my fingers yanking at the waist of his boxers.
God, I want him. I strip them off and feel his cock press against my abdomen, hot through my wet clothes.
Declan is breathing hard as my hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle and the heat of his skin.
He's still damp from the shower, and I can taste water on his lips, feel it on my fingertips.
He groans into my mouth when I touch the bruise on his ribs, and I soften my touch, careful not to hurt him.
"Elena." He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "We don't have to—"
"I want to." I look up at him. "I want you."
His pupils dilate, and I see him tense, his hands going still on my back. "You're sure?"
"Yes,” I whisper.
He eyes me, and I can feel his hesitation. “Elena, I don’t want this because you think you should. Not because it's your duty. Only if you actually want—"
"I want you, Declan." I slide my hands up to his shoulders, feeling the tension there. "Please.”
The word seems to unlock something in him.
He backs me against the counter, his hands pulling at my shirt as he strips the soaked fabric over my head.
He looks down at me, taking in the sight of me topless for the first time, and as he undoes my bra and tosses it to the side, I see his eyes darken with lust at the sight of my bare breasts.
“Christ,” he whispers, and then he bends, seemingly not caring about any of his injuries as he presses his mouth to my chest, between my breasts, and then closes his mouth over one nipple.
His hand molds the soft flesh, cupping it as he licks and sucks, and I gasp at the unfamiliar sensation, my hand tangling in his wet hair.
I feel my thighs part, and a moan slips from my lips as he tugs at my nipple, grazing it with his teeth before sliding his mouth over to the other.
His hands push at the waist of my shorts, dragging my panties down with them. He pulls back again when I’m entirely bare, his gaze devouring me. We’re both naked, and I can see that his cock is nearly touching his abdomen, visibly throbbing in the steam-filled bathroom from how hard he is.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he says, his voice rough. “Fuck, Elena, it’s your first time…” He surges forward, kissing me again. “We should be somewhere else. In a bed. But I don’t know if I can get us there before I need to be inside you. Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I've been told I'm beautiful before. By men at parties, by my father's associates, by people who wanted something from me. I know how I look, and I’ve always known how to wield it to my advantage. But the way Declan says it makes me feel beautiful for the first time in my life.
"So are you," I whisper.
He laughs, surprised. "I'm covered in bruises."
"I don't care." I reach for his cock, unable to tear my eyes away from it suddenly. It’s so big and hard, thick and flushed. When I wrap my hand around it, he hisses through his teeth, his hips jerking as he thrusts into my palm. "I want you anyway."
His breath hitches. "Elena—"
I kiss him before he can say anything else.
He responds immediately, his arms coming around me, pulling me flush against him.
I can feel every inch of him—the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin, his cock pressing against my stomach.
It feels right. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Please, I need—”
He groans raggedly, and his hands slide down my back to cup my ass, lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, and he lifts me up on the bathroom counter. The marble is cold against my skin when he sets me down, making me gasp.
"Sorry," he murmurs against my mouth.
"Don't be." I pull him closer, spreading my legs wider to make room for him between my thighs. "Don't stop."
He groans and kisses me harder. His hands are everywhere—my breasts, my waist, my thighs—touching me like he's been starving for it. His hand slides up between my legs, stroking between them and making me moan, then pushing inside of me. “You need to come first,” he murmurs roughly. “I won’t fit unless you’re relaxed. ”
I arch into his touch when his thumb brushes over my nipple. The sensation shoots straight to my core, making me clench around him. I'm already wet and aching, and I can feel the orgasm building, pleasure blooming through me.
He bends down again, pushing my thighs a little wider as his fingers work inside of me, and I feel the heat of his mouth between my thighs.
I cry out, clutching at his shoulder as I feel the wet warmth of his tongue over my clit, gently licking as his fingers thrust a little harder.
My legs fall open for him, and I can’t stop gasping. My heart is galloping in my chest.
When I’m so wet that his fingers are moving easily, he stops licking me just long enough to look up. “I’m going to add a third,” he murmurs. “It’s still not as thick as my cock, so if you can’t take it, you’re not ready. Okay, baby?”
His voice is so rough on the endearment that it makes me shiver. I nod wordlessly, and when his tongue caresses my clit again, I lose all normal thought. “Please,” I whimper, all my former reticence gone. “Please make me come. Your mouth… please…”
I never knew anything could feel like this.
Now I understand why he wanted my mouth around him so badly.
This is incredible. I want him to stay down there forever.
I feel greedy for it, desperate to keep his mouth where it is.
My hand claws into his hair, and he groans, his other hand moving between his legs to stroke his stiff length.
That does it. The sight of him so desperate at my taste that he has to touch himself for relief sends the pleasure crashing over me, every muscle in my body tightening in an orgasm so intense I hear myself cry out, my vision blurring.
He pushes a third finger into me as I spasm, his lips suddenly sucking around my clit instead of licking, and I feel like it’s never going to end.
I’m just going to keep coming and coming and…
He pulls back, his gaze wild with lust, his mouth smeared with my arousal. His hand is still on his throbbing cock, and he yanks me to the edge of the counter. “Say stop,” he pants, angling himself between my legs. “Say it if you need me to, because Christ, Elena, once I’m in you—”
“Don’t stop,” I manage to breathe out, and his jaw goes tight as he hitches one of my legs around his hip.
“I want to fuck you while you’re still coming around me,” he growls, and then I feel the thick press of his cockhead against my soaked entrance, the moment before he thrusts inside.
For a second, there’s nothing but white-hot pain. He’s so big. The stretch is immense, filling me up, making me feel like I’m going to break around him. He sinks all the way into me, groaning as he feels the aftershocks of my orgasm make me tighten around him.
“Christ, you’re so tight,” he pants. “It almost fucking hurts. Oh my fucking God.”
He slides out, almost to the tip, and then back in again slowly. “Oh God,” he groans. “Fuck, Elena…”