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Declan kissed her, his tongue thrusting in time with his cock, pushing forward and retreating in a delicious rhythm that had her wound up completely. She was panting against his mouth, her legs wound tight around his hips, anchoring her body to his. She let her arms fall onto the bed and she curled her fingers into the comforter, needing something else to hold on to, to grip so tight she was afraid she might not be able to pry her fingers out of the fabric when they were through.
And he was far from through, despite his protests that he might blow too early. Unbelievably, she was already close to coming again. She’d never been able to come more than once during sex and had always secretly been jealous of multi-orgasmic women. She truly believed her body wasn’t capable of it.
Looked like Declan just proved her theory wrong—and she wasn’t protesting.
“So fucking tight,” he muttered as he gathered her to him, his mouth at her ear, her breasts smashed against his sweaty chest. “Could fuck you like this for hours.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she said breathlessly, a thrill moving through her at his words. Another thing she’d never really experienced—talking during sex. There were the usual moans and groans, but hardly any actual words had ever been used.
She’d missed out on a lot, it seemed.
“Feels good?” he asked, just before he bit her earlobe.
She nodded, unable to find the right words to say in return. But he wasn’t going for her silence. He wanted words and she desperately wanted to give them to him.
“Tell me what you like,” he encouraged.
“You,” she breathed, a little whimper escaping her when he circled his hips and somehow sent his cock even deeper inside her body.
“What about me?”
He was going to make her say it, wasn’t he?
“Your…cock.” He reached between them at that very moment, his fingers massaging her clit. “And your hands. Your fingers.”
“Feels good when I rub your clit? Are you close to coming?”
She nodded again, and his fingers stilled. Torturous. “Y-yes. So close.”
“I can tell. Your pussy is squeezing my cock tight.” His fingers moved once more, teasing her clit, increasing his pace as he thrust hard and deep inside her body. “Come for me, baby. Let me see you fall apart again.”
Oh, his words just did it for her. She came as if on command, something she never believed could happen, but here she was, falling apart just like he demanded. This orgasm was different, though. It radiated deep within her body, throbbed in her core and pulsated through her veins. Her stomach almost hurt, what with the way it violently clenched again and again. Her inner walls squeezed his cock tight and Declan stiffened above her, his entire body going still. She didn’t even think he was breathing.
“Fucking Christ,” he muttered in agony just before his orgasm slammed into him. He shouted her name, his hips driving into her, his entire body wracked with shudders as his explosive orgasm went on and on.
She could almost come again just watching him. Feeling him. She stared in wonder at his face. His beautiful, familiar, beloved face, one she stared at for years that now hung over hers, sweat dripping from his forehead and landing on her cheek. Any other man and she would’ve been grossed out. Not with Declan Carter, though.
The feeling of his hard, sweaty body mashed against hers was the best sensation ever. She never wanted it to end. But it would have to. Eventually.
So she needed to make the most of tonight and take what she could get.
“Fuck.” He pulled out of her body and collapsed in a heap beside her, slinging his arm across her stomach, the weight heavy, but she didn’t mind. She felt claimed. That perhaps he had to keep on touching her, like he was addicted to her. “That was unbelievable.”
Reagan skimmed her fingers along his forearm, running her thumb across the golden hair that grew there. He had the sexiest forearms ever. He had the sexiest everything ever. The man was a god. A god of all things sexual, and he’d just fucked her straight into oblivion.
“It was amazing,” she agreed with a little sigh, disappointed when he pushed out of the bed without a word and went into the bathroom. She missed his warmth, the solid weight of his body next to hers.
She plucked at the comforter, nervous over how she should react when he came back. Would he tell her it had been real and kick her out of his room, or would he want another go-around?
Please, please want another go-around.
Sitting up, she ran her hands through her hair, grimacing when she felt what a mess it all was. She must have looked a fright. Was her makeup running? She ran her finger beneath her eye and stared at the tip, seeing the telltale black smudge that hinted she probably looked like a raccoon, with her mascara running.
Great. Maybe he would kick her out of his bed now that the mirage was disappearing and the real Reagan showed up.
“Sorry.” She jerked in surprise at his apology
, since she hadn’t heard him come back into the room. He approached the bed with a casual grace, his nakedness not seeming to bother him whatsoever. Not that it bothered her, oh no. She just felt like a fool, staring at him like he was God’s gift to women, her gaze zeroed in on his cock, which was rather impressive, and it wasn’t even erect.
