5. Chapter 5 #3
"You can." He adjusts the angle and I nearly sob. "You're going to wait for me. You're going to be a good girl and wait until I'm ready."
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"Please let me come—"
"Show me how close you are."
He's relentless now, thrusting fast and hard while his skilled fingers rub my clit, bringing me right to the edge and then easing back just enough that I don't go over.
It's torture.
And it's perfect.
"Declan, please," I whimper, needy beyond belief. "I need—"
"What do you need?" His voice is rough, strained. He's close too—I can hear it. "Say it."
"I need to come. Please. I need to come—"
"Look at me."
I open my eyes and see Declan’s green gaze—intense, possessive, absolutely focused on me.
"That’s it, sweetheart," he says. "Come all over this cock."
I do.
I come so hard that I scream his name, arch completely off the bed, and dig my nails into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood.
My vision blurs white. My whole body locks up. My walls clench around him, but he doesn't stop; he keeps thrusting through my orgasm, prolonging it until I'm completely undone.
"Fuck, baby—" His rhythm falters and he buries himself deep one final time and comes inside with my name on his lips, his whole body shuddering, his cock pulsing in a way I can feel even through the condom.
We stay frozen like that for a long moment, both of us trembling—him still inside me. He’s still hard enough that I can feel every twitch, and I can feel my skin blush at how badly I want him even now.
My entire body is a vibrating heap, desperate to be used, filled, and drained again.
"Christ," he breathes finally, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Slowly, carefully, he pulls out, and I immediately miss the fullness, the connection, the weight of him.
He disposes of the condom and comes back to bed, pulling me against his side. I curl into him without thinking, boneless and sated and thoroughly ruined inside and out.
"You did so well," he murmurs, pressing kisses to my hair. "Took me so perfectly."
"Declan—"
"Mm?"
"That was—" I swallow. "That was nothing like what I—"
"I know." His hand strokes down my spine. "I know, sweetheart."
The endearment makes something warm bloom in my chest.
Dangerous.
This is all so dangerous.
But right now, in this moment, with his arms around me and his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, I can't bring myself to care.
"You okay?" he asks, tugging me tighter.
"I think you broke me."
"Good broken or bad broken?"
"I'll let you know when I can feel my legs again."
He laughs, and the sound rumbles through his chest into mine.
We lie there in silence for a while. The air conditioning is on but I'm still overheated. The Tulum night sounds filter through the window—waves, distant music from the reception, the rustle of palm trees.
This should feel awkward.
Post-sex with someone I barely know, someone I'm technically married to, someone I'm supposed to be annulling in two days.
But it doesn't feel awkward.
It feels comfortable—almost safe—as his heavy fingers smooth over my shoulder, my waist, my hip.
The caresses are no longer sexual, more tender, like he's memorizing the shape of me.
"You're thinking too loud," he murmurs.
"I'm always thinking too loud."
"I noticed." He pulls me closer, tucking my head under his chin. "What is it this time?"
"Just—" I hesitate. "This is complicated."
"It doesn't have to be."
"We got accidentally married, Declan. And then we had sex. That's the definition of complicated."
"Only if we let it be." His hand stills on my hip. "We're fixing it Monday. Until then, we're just two people who had a good night."
"A good night," I repeat. "That's one way to describe it."
"How would you describe it?"
"Possibly the best mistake I've ever made."
He's quiet for a moment, nodding. "Yeah. That sounds about right."
We fall silent again, and I feel my eyelids getting heavy. The exhaustion from the wedding, the emotional whiplash of the day, and two orgasms that rewired my entire nervous system—all of it is catching up to me.
"Stay," he says quietly.
I should say no.
I should get up, get dressed, go back to my own room.
But I'm warm and comfortable, his arms feel safer than they have any right to feel, and I'm so tired of making good decisions.
"Just for a little while," I whisper.
"Just for a little while," he agrees.
His breathing evens out first. I listen to it slowly deepen, become the steady rhythm of sleep. His arms loosen slightly around me but don't let go.
Lying there in the darkness, with Declan Shaw's heartbeat steady beneath my ear and the Tulum night singing its soft song outside, I let myself have this.
Just for tonight. Just for a little while.
Tomorrow, I'll wake up and go back to my regular life.
Tomorrow, we'll be strangers again.
But tonight?
Tonight I fall asleep in my accidental husband's arms, letting the nightmares I’ve been having for the last year fade in Declan Shaw’s bed.
And I don’t dream about the uncertainty that comes with leaving my life in Miami.
In fact, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I don't dream at all.