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My shoulders slumped, and my eyes narrowed. I dropped back onto his knees. “You’re a dick.”
“I’m sorry.” Declan laughed, still holding my ass, tugging me back into the position I’d been in. As he guided my hips in a grinding motion on his dick, I took in a quiet, almost inaudible gasp. “I’m sure these are gorgeous. But I like the way you dress.” He kissed me again, this one more of a peck. “Including what you call granny panties.”
“What would you call them?”
“Panties?” He laughed, fingers trailing up to the hem of my thong. “If you like these, I’m not saying not to wear them. But if comfortable cotton is your thing, just know that I think it’s hotter than these.” He kissed me again, hooking his finger around them and tugging them slightly downward. “Even sexier is nothing at all.”
Which was what I’d been wearing Saturday night under the dress he’d torn in half.
That memory combined with his hands struggling to pull the thong off made me quake with anticipation.
I kissed him again—this one deeper, harder, arching my chest closer to his, unhooking another button on his shirt. “Rip them off,” I whispered at his lips.
Smiling as he kissed me again, he grabbed along the string with both hands and tore. The friction rubbed against my clit, and I gasped at the tickles that spread through me.
Holding our kiss, I tugged through each of his buttons until I got to his slacks. Once I’d unzipped them and snuck a hand inside, his fingertip slid to my opening and drifted up to my clit.
A heavy breath of pleasure parted our lips. I bent closer into him, applying more pressure, strengthening my bliss.
“You know why else I prefer the ones you were wearing Monday to these?” he whispered.
All I managed in a response was, “Hmm?”
“Your smell,” he murmured. “This fabric isn’t as breathable.”
Fuck, I wasn’t sure why that turned me on, but I wasn’t fighting it.
“Shut up and kiss me,” I whispered.
He laughed and leaned in, holding me closer.
I held his jaw, tugging him as close to me as I could get. Still teasing my clit, he shimmied his pants down a bit, then moved his hand to my ass, bringing the head of his cock to my opening.
Allowing myself to get lost in his touch, his embrace, I lowered myself onto him. I sighed with bliss, and he groaned softly. His lips came to mine, and a wave of euphoria rippled through me.
I didn’t know what I felt in this moment. There was pleasure, of course, but it was deeper than that. This was intimacy.
Throughout my life, with all the men I’d been with before, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this deeply connected to them. Maybe it was the myth. Maybe it was simply the fact that Declan accepted that part of me.
He knew I wasn’t ready to let my walls come down, so he worked around them.
Each slow grind and gentle kiss didn’t force my leg into trembling bliss, but it filled my chest and each nerve ending with an immeasurable sense of warmth and comfort. Both times prior to this had built so much pressure in my core that I thought I’d burst with bliss at each touch.
But this… This was what I’d always imagined making love meant.
The faster my breaths became, the deeper his soft moans grew. He was almost quiet this time, and part of me missed his filthy rhetoric, but the other half of me got lost in his ginger touch.
His calloused fingers along my bare back, his soft kisses, his comforting embrace. The way he held me was assuring while simultaneously erotic. I usually hated being on top because men used it as an excuse to lie back and do nothing, but Declan was just as involved as he was any other time.
He kissed my neck. He rolled his hips up and down to give me leverage to grind my clit on him. His hands embraced every inch of me, and I got lost in it.
It felt almost magical.
As I circled my arms around his shoulders and closed my eyes, he kissed from my sternum up my throat to my chin, finally ending at my lips. Gingerly, he bit my bottom lip, and I exhaled with pleasure. “Brooke,” he whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I want to make this last longer.” He kissed my lips again. “But I’m about to come.”
