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Between them, his massive cock juts up. He’s already erect? Again? Is it possible for someone to recover that quickly? Even with my limited knowledge of the male anatomy, I’m fairly certain men need time to recover between rounds. But not Declan, apparently. I gulp. Also, there’s a flash of metal at the tip of his shaft.
“Is that—?” I point at his dick. “Is that your piercing?”
“If you’re referring to myApadravya—”
“Your what?”
“My piercing.” He says patiently. “It’s called anApadravya.”
I stare at the barbell like jewelry which passes vertically through the glans from top to bottom and wince. “I’d call it painful.”
“It was.” He shrugs.
“So why did you get it?”
“Because I could?”
I shake my head. “That’s not an answer.”
He squeezes his cock from base to head. “I got it because I wanted to prove to myself I could. I was tired of fighting for my roles in film. Tired of the constant rounds of auditions. Tired of feeling defensive because of my scar.”
I glance up at the silvery line on his forehead. “I’m sorr—”
“Don’t apologize.” He cuts his palm through the air. “I wanted to do something that made me feel in control.”
“So, you got a painful piercing.”
“Made me feel like a rockstar... Once the pain wore off. Also, it enhances sexual pleasure for the woman.” He smirks. “For both the front and rear entry.”
O-k-a-y.I widen my gaze. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that earlier. Also, I have no idea how that... that monster cock of yours fit inside me.”
“That’s because you were too busy being fucked, baby.” His smirk widens.
The ego of this man. But considering the baseball bat-sized cock between his legs, it’s probably justified. A cock whose length and girth I’ve felt intimately. My inner-walls clench. I squeeze my thighs together, but he must notice the movement, for he smirks. He stalks over to me, but before I can say another word, he’s bent and scooped me up in his arms.
I yelp. "Where are you taking me?"
25
Declan
Turns out, I like watching her eat. I like cooking for her—something I don’t do very often, since I’m never home long enough to use the gleaming appliances in this kitchen. What I like even more, though, is watching her squirm around in the chair trying to find a comfortable position. No doubt, the welts on her butt are causing her an inconvenience. She's feeling every one of those thin red marks I put on her unmarked backside.
And the blood. The sight of that one drop of blood turned my world completely upside down. I’ve blood played before, but to see the blood I drew on her backside caused my heart to stutter. And when I saw her blood on my dick, I swear it stopped for a second. A primal, foreign sensation took a hold of me.
I cleaned her up, took care of her hurt backside, but I wasn’t able to leave. I stood over her and watched her as she slept, and then her stomach grumbled. I knew then, I couldn’t leave… Not yet.One last meal is allowed, right? She's still my guest. And for tonight, at any rate, my sub. I can take care of her. It's the right thing to do. 'Course, now I'm justifying myself. Which is not like me. It’s also a clear sign I need to get the hell away from her. After I fuck her one more time. Just once more is allowed, right?
"You done?" I nod at her plate.
We’re seated at the breakfast table by the window.
Outside, it’s still dark. The lights of the city twinkle along the curved shore of Malibu on my right. Ahead, the sea stretches out, a black void. Like my life before she came into it.
Across the table, she shovels more food into her mouth. When's the last time I ate with that kind of relish? For me, food is more than a fuel or something to enjoy. It's primarily a means to reach the kind of physique demanded of me for my movies. Not that I’m complaining. The hard work required to maintain the build that gives me an advantage over others is something I enjoy. The working out, the sweating, the grunting, the discipline of waking up at four a.m. and completing my workout is something that anchors me and grounds me. It reinforces the effort needed to hold onto the position I carved out at the top of the Hollywood food chain. So, it doesn’t explain why I'm ready to throw everything aside, throw her over my shoulder, and take her back to bed. A-n-d, I need to seriously stop this train of thinking, right-fucking-now.
She finishes the last morsel of food on her plate and sets her fork down. "I am now."
I slide the glass of milk toward her. "Drink that."
