“Ah baby, I want that too, but...”
His arm tightens. “But what, Cara?”
“I’ve been a little...unsatisfied for a while now. It might be safer for us to wait, maybe pick this up at your place later, and you let me go in here alone so I can...take care of things.”
“Take care of things?” he chokes out. I bow my head, smiling, pushing my ass into him, savoring his groan.
“Yeah, baby. Cause if I don’t. If I let you take me in there? You might not make it out of there alive. I’m too needy. I might...take too much from you.”
His whole body shudders and my smile grows. It feels so fucking good to know he wants me as badly as I want him. That he’s desperate for me. Suddenly he shifts, pressing me tightly against the door so I can feel all of him. His mouth comes to my neck, and I tilt my head, giving him room. I expect the gentle touch of his lips. I expect reverence. I don’t expect him to sink his teeth into my skin, biting. My head drops forward, and my knees give out. Declan’s arm is the only thing stopping me from falling to the floor in a puddle of goo.
“Open the fucking door, Cara.”
It takes more effort than I’m proud of to slap my hand on the doorknob. It takes even more effort to turn it. Then his arm tightens, and I’m lifted off my feet. We’re spinning, and my back is suddenly pressed against the door, our fronts pressed together.
Declan presses his forehead against mine. We’re both panting. I’m on the verge of coming from that bite, and I can’t wrap my head around that Declan. Biting Declan.
“We need to have that conversation, Cara. I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. And I’ve been carrying condoms in my wallet since that motel.”
“Ah...clean. I’m on the pill, but...” Aside from the logistics of bare, which I’ve only heard about and not personally had to deal with, I’m not sure I’m ready for that...yet.
“Condom. Got it. Anything else I need to know?”
“I don’t know. Just touch me, for fuck’s sake.”
“You have to tell me if you don’t—“
“Declan, if your hand isn’t in my panties in the next five seconds, I’m going to—“
I suck back a breath, my entire focus narrowing to his hands. Those big, capable hands, diving under my skirt, yanking down my tights. He drops to his knees, letting out an impatient grunt as they get stuck on my shoes. He pulls off my stilettos and then the tights, lifting up each foot, giving it a quick squeeze. He shoves my leather skirt up around my waist.
Then he’s pushing his way between my legs and threading his arm through until my knee is resting on his shoulder, and I’m open to him. All I can do is feel. And moan. Ok, there’s some yanking on his head too.
I’ve never felt anything like this. Like him. Never before has someone listened like this. Or read my cues and found exactly the right way to drive me higher. The brush of his beard, the softness of his lips, and the gentle sting of his teeth on my clit make me fall apart too quickly. I’m falling before I get a chance to savor him. Savor this.
I shudder and moan through my orgasm, afraid my body will just fly apart. My hands fly out to hold on to something, maybe the doorframe, but Declan surges up, and I cling to him. He holds me so tightly, yet so carefully, as I ride out the waves, murmuring encouragement and praise against my ear. I can’t make out the words, too lost in sensation, but as I slowly come down, they start to penetrate.
“So beautiful.” A kiss on my ear. “Ride it, baby.” Hands stroking up and down my spine. “You taste so good. I want more.” That one sends an aftershock through me that makes me moan and lean on him harder.
I want to tell him how amazing he is. How amazing that was. How I’ve never felt anything like this. How good he just made me feel. What comes out is, “Yeah...good. Woah.”
His body shakes with his laughter. I can’t even be mad. I don’t think I can ever be mad at him again. He’s a sex god, for sure. Thank god I didn’t know this about him before. My obsession with him would have cranked up to stalker level. I almost don’t know how to be this woman. This falling apart, sexually satisfied version of me is brand new.
I loosen my grip on his shoulders and trail my hands over the firm muscles of his back, and down into the ass of his jeans. Thank fuck the waistband is loose. They’re skintight at his thick thighs, but there’s just enough room for me to caress his ass. His groan settles me. I may be totally lost in him, but he’s lost in me, too. We’re together in this, and that makes everything ok.
Finally, feeling my feet underneath me, I step into him, driving him back to the couch. He’s nipping and biting at my neck, my chest. He tilts my head so he can take my mouth in a toe-curling kiss. My office is long and narrow, and the couch is at the back of the room. We bounce off the desk as we pass it, then, finally, I have him right where I want him. I reluctantly pull my hands out of his jeans and shove him down. He goes willingly, dragging me with him.
I wanted to take control. To be in charge. But that’s not happening. But it’s strangely wonderful because he’s not in charge, either. We’re both driven by desire, by feeling. And maybe, tonight, there’s no place for power dynamics.
Our hands clash at his waistband, both of us eager to get his pants open. Laughing into our kiss, I brush his hands away gently and take over. Unbuttoning him and sliding down the zipper oh so carefully, fingers between it and the fabric of his underwear, echoing all the times he did up the zipper of the hoodie I was wearing. It was hot when he did it. It’s hot getting the chance to do it to him. And judging by his hissed ‘fuck’, he thinks so too.
The first time with a man is always strange. You never know what you’re going to get, and I learned early on that I need to school my reaction. Some of the biggest guys are packing the smallest pistols and indicating that it’s anything other than amazing when I have it in my hand is a guaranteed limp dick and an end to the fun. Because that’s what it was. In high school, it was fun. It felt good, and I felt a bit like a rebel, sneaking out to have sex. As an adult, it was still fun, but it was mainly to scratch an itch.
Sex with Declan is already washing away the faces of the men in my past. None of it ever felt this big, this intense. It was always two separate bodies coming together. I don’t feel separate right now. The connection between the two of us is palpable.
I felt him against me that night in Vegas, and when I get him in my hand, I don’t need to pretend or flatter. He doesn’t need it. He’s packing plenty to work with, thank god. I rub my thumb over his tip, spreading his pre-cum.
His hand covers mine. “I’m on the fucking verge here. Don’t play with me.”
