21. Chapter 21 #4
"You can. You're going to focus on exactly what I'm doing to you right now.
" He slides two fingers inside me, and I gasp.
"On how wet this little pussy gets for me.
On the fact that I'm the only person who has ever made you feel like this.
" He pumps his fingers slowly, watching our reflection. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
My hips are moving against his hand now, chasing the pressure. "You're the only one who's ever—"
"Ever what?"
"Ever made me feel—God, like this."
"Like what? Tell me exactly."
"Like I'm com-completely yours—"
"You are completely mine." He withdraws his fingers and positions the head of his cock at my entrance. "Now. Sink down. Slowly. I want to feel every tight inch."
I sink down and the sinful sensation of Declan entering me—stretching me, seating himself impossibly deep from this angle—pulls a cry from my throat.
"Christ," he breathes, low and raw, his grip on my hips tightening. "You feel—fucking perfect. This cunt was made for me." His hands hold me firm, steadying me as he presses his mouth to my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. "My wife," he murmurs. "That's what you are. Say it."
"Your wife."
"Again."
"I'm your wife." The words crack open in my chest. "I'm your wife, Declan."
"And this pussy—" his hips roll up beneath me, driving deeper, and I cry out— "belongs to me."
"Yes. God, yes, yours."
"Now move," he orders. "Show me."
I move on top of him in slow rolls of my hips, deep, grinding circles that let me feel every inch of him, that make us both exhale in long, shuddering breaths.
The sounds fill the room.
The wet, drumming noise of us. The creak of the bed’s edge under our shifting weight. His breathing, rough and controlled. Mine, not controlled at all.
His hands guide my hips, adjusting the angle, tilting me forward slightly so every downstroke hits something deep inside me that makes my thighs shake.
"Faster," he says against my neck.
I pick up pace, and Declan’s grip tightens, his fingertips pressing into my skin in a way I'll feel tomorrow.
"Look at the window," he orders when my head starts to fall back onto his shoulder. "Eyes open. I want you to watch yourself."
I look, and my reflection looks back.
My dark hair is wilder, lips parted, chest heaving, as I grind and bounce in the lap of my gorgeous boss.
My husband, who I no longer think of as the CEO.
The enforcer.
The man who holds every room he walks into.
Just Declan. Undone.
A man who’s mine, too.
Even if I don't deserve him.
"That's my wife," he says quietly, his hard sea-green stare meeting mine in the reflection. "Look at her."
"Declan—"
"Look at what's mine." His hand slides around to my front, his thumb flicking softly against my clit. He presses harder, circles it in exactly the way that makes my vision white at the edges.
My pace stutters, thighs quaking, as Declan’s hips drive up from below, hard and deep, meeting my downstrokes.
The dual sensation—his thumb working my clit, his cock hitting that spot inside me—is more than I can take.
His mouth is hot against the pulse point of my neck, his hips relentless.
"My wife. My Darcy. Mine."
"Pl-please—I need—"
"I know what you need." He pinches my clit lightly and I gasp. "You'll get it now." His voice drops to a growl. "Come for me. Make this pussy come all over my cock."
I shatter, the orgasm ripping through me so completely that my whole body arches forward, my palms flying to the carpet to brace myself.
Declan follows me to the floor, his grip brutal on my hips from behind, his rhythm broken as he plunges deep one final time, his face pressed hard into my neck as he comes apart with a sound I feel in my chest.
The warmth of him fills me completely, the intimate gush of his cum inside me making me shudder.
We stay exactly like that for a long moment afterward, panting and trembling, until at last Declan’s strong arms wrap around me from behind, his lips moving against the curve of my neck in something that isn't quite words.
He lowers our bodies to the floor, spread out, the Miami night glittering, indifferent, in the window ahead.
An eternity seems to pass as we lie that way on the carpet. Until he pulls me closer, pressing his lips to the nape of my neck.
"I love you," he says into the space between us, and instantly my eyes fill with tears.
"I love you too," I whisper, meaning it so completely it physically hurts.
And I do.
I mean every word.
And yet, I'm still lying.
Not in the words—the words are the truest thing I have left.
But in the silence around them.
In everything I'm still not saying.
He pulls me against his chest and I turn, wrapping myself around him—my cheek against his heartbeat, his hand moving slowly through my hair, the carpet warm beneath us and the ocean outside twinkling beyond the glass walls.
My father's city.
My husband's enemy's city.
My baby's secret city.
Tomorrow, I tell myself.
After the gala.
I'll tell him everything.
And with Declan’s heartbeat steady under my ear, his tall, muscular body hot against me, I close my eyes, letting myself be selfish for one more night.
Not as Darcella Maria Cole.
Just Darcy Madison.
Just his.