My eyes squeeze shut, and I will every ounce of effort to disengage, to think about anything other than what’s happening, but Declan makes it impossible when he slips his tongue inside of my * as he drags his fingers along the crease of my ass, forcing me to tense up. He then takes that hand, reaches under me, and grabs my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers as he continues to fuck me with his mouth. I try to focus on the ache in my arms, but he grasps my attention when he takes his mouth off my *, grabs ahold of the belt, and pulls me back, lifting my chest off the bed, so that I’m now sitting on my heels. Turning my head to him, he offers me his mouth, saying, “Taste yourself,” and then kisses me, caressing my tongue with his.
I want to scream for him to stop because I don’t want to be doing this with him, but I don’t. I force myself to think about what I’m using him for, what I need him to do for me. The words you can do this, you can do this repeat over and over in my head, but there’s an intensity with Declan that I haven’t experienced with a man before. It’s easy to shut down with Bennett, but Declan has a power that keeps me in the moment, making the escape near impossible.
Pulling away from our kiss, he says, “Tell me what you want. Ask for it.”
“I want you,” I lie.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fuck me.”
“Ask me,” he demands and the request irks the shit out of me, but I swallow the irritation.
“Will you please fuck me, Declan?”
Rounding his hand over my butt and down between my legs, he sinks his finger inside of my *, asking, “You want it here?” with his face pressed to the side of mine, his chest against my back.
“Yes.”
“I want to hear you say it,” he requests, and I just wish he would stop fucking talking so I can at least attempt to go numb.
“Please, Declan. Just fuck me. I want you inside of me. I want to feel you in my *. I want all of you filling me up,” I tell him, giving him all the words I feel he wants to hear so that we can get this over with.
And with that, I hear his pants hit the floor from behind me as I sit on my knees, waiting for his next move, and then it comes.
His hand grabs a fist of my hair as he shoves my face back down into the mattress. Letting go, he widens my knees, ass up, and then gives my * one last lick before he buries himself balls deep into my core, forcing me to slip forward on the bed. He quickly grabs my wrists that are stationed at the small of my back and holds them firmly with one hand while the other fists the belt.
I turn my head face down in the bed, and do what I can to disengage, but his voice keeps penetrating me as he talks, forcing me to tell him that I want him, that I want this, that I like this, that it feels good. I can’t escape. I’m in the moment. I’m never in the moment, but right now, I’m in the goddamn moment, and the churning of my stomach begins to rouse into a disgusting rumble of bile I pray stays down.
“Let go, Nina. Stop fighting me,” he says, as if he knows I’m trying with everything I have not to come. My body is so tense; I’m an idiot to think he can’t feel it. He’ll know if I fake it, but I keep fighting anyway. “Don’t fight me,” he hisses, his accent thickening as his desire grows. He then reaches around, dragging the wetness up to my clit, and starts massaging in slow, torturous circles. He has no idea he’s destroying everything inside of me.
I hold my breath and bite down hard. I can’t deny him what he’s demanding. He’ll ask too many questions, questions I can’t ever answer for him, so I give in and allow him to give me the repulsive pleasure I hate to feel. It builds along with the bile, and when his cock swells inside of me with his oncoming release, I break. And out of nowhere, he makes a tender gesture when he laces his fingers with mine and holds my hand while I come. The orgasm takes over my body in ripples of fiery explosions that shoot through every inch of me. I can’t suppress the moans that rip out of me, humiliating me, and then they’re joined with Declan’s as his orgasm mirrors mine. The feel of his cock throbbing inside of me as my walls spasm around him prolongs the release I wish would stop, but it quakes through me, holding me hostage to the man behind me. Our hands locked tightly together the whole time, as if he knows how hard this is for me and this is his way of offering a gentle support.
A second later, he lets go of me, and with fast hands, releases his belt from my arms, and they drop lifelessly to the bed as his body collapses on top of mine. I can’t look at him. I can’t even open my eyes. As my orgasm fades away, the pleasure between my legs remains as a reminder as to what just happened. I have to pull my shit together—fast—as Declan shifts to my side and brings me into his arms.
I tuck my knees up, and when I do, he cradles me in his hold, humming into my ear. I focus on his sounds to calm my racing heart and queasy gut. Taking in slow, deep breaths, I wonder how I’m going to get through sex with him again. I’m too exposed—too alive—too hot—too ripe—too present. I want to cry, but I don’t, so I lay my head on Declan’s chest and selfishly take the comfort he’s offering because I don’t have any other options here. He holds me, soothing me with the lull of his hums as I listen to his steadying heartbeat.
“Talk to me,” he requests.
“I don’t feel like talking.”
“I need you to talk to me. Tell me why you were fighting me.”
“I wasn’t,” I try to deny.
Turning on his side to face me, he wraps his hand behind my knee and drapes my leg over his hip, bringing us closer, when he says, “I felt you, Nina. I need you to talk to me. Did I scare you?”
Yes.
“No.”
“Did I hurt you?”