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Declan’s breaths grow ragged as he works himself into a fervor. His knees lift a bit, his chest pumping with frenzied breaths. I can’t tear my eyes away. How horrible that he’s in so much pain, because it’s quite majestic…and compelling.
As I watch, I feel my senses heighten, spurred by ancient magic; I grow warm and breathless, feel a needy clenching where my own sex would receive his…were we to copulate.
I’m about to turn away—all this is well beyond improper—but at that moment, he grunts and shifts onto his side, his hand releasing his sex as the other rises up to knead his shoulder…that right shoulder. He lets out a long, unsteady breath—it makes his thick sex jut toward his navel. When he inhales again, the hand on his shoulder moves to cover his face.
I hold stone still until he resumes stroking himself, one hand pumping his shaft as the other fists his hair. I tear my eyes away from his member and realize he’s clenching his jaw.
At that moment, his eyes open. “Finley.” His face still looks tired, but his voice is hard. “What are you doing?”
My cheeks burn so hot, I feel my eyes tear. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“You were watching,” he says darkly.
I look at my feet, and then I start to turn away.
“Why?”
I freeze. Why? Because I love to watch you all the time…
That forbidden thought sends shockwaves through me.
“Siren.” His low voice is clear and quiet. “Have you ever seen a man without his clothes on?”
I shake my head, unable to turn fully around to face him. My eyes throb. I bring a hand to my forehead, clutching. “Please don’t be…offended.”
“Not offended.” He sounds husky.
“I’d be mortified if someone looked upon me that way. I’m terribly sorry.”
My gaze affixes to the pale glint of the stream. I start to move toward it when he laughs. “The more you look, the easier it is.”
His words drop like weights inside me, as if I had swallowed them. I hear my own unsteady whisper. “I’m not sure I—I don’t understand.”
“Turn around, Finley.”
I obey with bated breath—and find his maleness covered with a blanket.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
His question pierces like an arrow, making my eyes well with tears of shame. I shake my head…then, to my horror, I feel myself nod. Looking at him, with his desperate face, one thick forearm still snaking down behind the blanket, I find myself incapable of deceit, even what’s needed to salvage my wayward sense of shame.
His lips twitch. “You liked it, didn’t you?” His voice sounds strange, a bit too low. I note his arm is moving; he’s stroking his sex as he speaks. “It’s supposed to feel good, Siren. There should be some pleasure, don’t you think? Something to ease the pain.”
His eyes close as he says that. His arm moves more quickly.
I sense myself in motion half a breath before I am, moving slightly closer to him. Declan’s eyes open to meet mine. He looks dazed as he strokes himself behind the blanket—eyelids heavy, his face more relaxed now.
“So…it feels good?”
I watch his throat move as he swallows. “Yeah.”
His eyes are closing, even as he strokes. I realize that I’ve crouched beside him.
Time freezes around us as his breaths grow faster, heavier. I can see his jaw tighten, his features tense as if he’s deeply focused.
Then he shifts his hips. The blanket falls away, and I’m stricken to my core by what I see in front of me. His thick sex is fully revealed, his underpants tucked behind the mighty orbs below. His long sex looks painfully engorged, its dark tip pointed toward his navel. Around it, his thick hand curves, moving back and forth from tip to base, each long, solid stroke making his swollen testes bounce and wobble.
“Ohh.”
