“How’d it go?” Declan asks when I enter the apartment, and I hold up the garment bag, saying, “I found a dress.”
“Good,” he says, and my unease intensifies with the knowledge that Lachlan, a man that Declan highly trusts, is corresponding with his father’s girlfriend. “Everything okay? You look worried.”
I drape the gown over the back of the couch and approach Declan.
“I heard something strange today, and it has me feeling unnerved,” I tell him.
“What happened?” he questions with concern.
“It could be nothing, but did you know that Lachlan knows your father’s girlfriend?”
“Camilla?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I overheard him on the phone with her. He sounded mad or maybe annoyed.”
“What did you hear him say?”
“Nothing really, he just snapped at her to calm down, and when I heard him use her name, I went back into the fitting room. Something about the tone he used with her and the fact that he’d been distant the whole time I was shopping made me apprehensive.”
I see the unpleasant look on his face and ask, “What is it?”
“When we were scrambling to find you, I answered his phone when he wasn’t in the room. It was her and she called him baby. When she realized it was me on the line, she quickly ended the call.”
“Did you ask Lachlan what was going on?”
“He dismissed it as them being old friends. Honestly my mind was completely fucked at the time.”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” I tell him.
“Maybe, but I’ll address it with him before I leave you alone with him again.”
“Declan . . .”
“Don’t contest me. I’m not willing to risk anything when it comes to you.”
“You can’t control the world.”
“No, but I control you and what happens to you,” he tells me as he takes my hand and places it on the side of his neck. “Do you feel that?”
I nod as his pulse beats hard into my palm. It’s an exorbitant sign of anxiety that he hides well, but it’s clearly at war with him on the inside.
“That’s you,” he says. “You’re my pulse. You’re the reason it beats and keeps me alive, so don’t defy me when it comes to protecting you, because I refuse to be reckless with my quintessence.”
He’s strident with his words. I know his desire for ultimate control; he’s been that way since the day I met him, and he’s explained why he is the way he is. Witnessing the murder of his mother has burdened him into adulthood and has shaped him into the man he is today. His demanding ways with me might be harsh for others, but they stem from a loving place.
“I’m sorry. Truth is, you’re the first person who’s ever gone to the lengths you do to make sure I’m taken care of. I know I give you a hard time, but the rule you have on me feels good.”
Before I know it, he has me in his arms, and I’m quick to wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me over to the couch. Tossing me onto my back, he orders me to take my top and bra off, and I do so in mere seconds at the same time he rips off his pants and shirt.
“Hands under your ass,” he commands, and when I have them securely beneath me, he straddles my body, pinning me under him. “Spit in my hand,” is his next directive, and again, I obey.
His cock is rock hard, and I watch as he beats himself off above me, using my saliva as lube. He’s mean and he knows it, teasing me like this. He gives into his desires while forcing me to withhold my own. He refuses to feed my hunger, leaving me without touch as he pumps the length of himself.
I want to touch him, but he’s testing my obedience, so I squeeze my thighs together in a lame attempt to create much needed friction for my throbbing clit. I can’t contain myself as I watch him stare down at me while he indulges his craving. His breaths begin to stagger unevenly as a sheen of sweat coats his hairline. Every groan that escapes his throat spurs me farther, and I press my thighs together even harder. The moment my body writhes in utter heat, he catches me.
“Open your legs,” he barks, and I do.
He then leans forward and locks his free hand around my neck to keep control of me. My * aches painfully for him to fill me up, but I know he has no intentions. When I see the muscles of his abs begin to contract, he’s getting close. He chokes on a breath of air, his grip around my neck tightening, and then explodes all over me, scenting me in his semen.
His hand leaves my neck, and he kisses me roughly before getting off the couch. I lie here and look up at him when he says, “Don’t clean that off, and don’t wear any perfume tonight.”
I sit up, and a few drops of his cum roll down between my breasts. “Lucky for me, my dress doesn’t have a plunging neckline,” I tease with a smile, knowing he gets off leaving his mark on me.
“I’m going to take a hot shower,” he says and then kisses my forehead.