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I drop my head and bite down on his shoulder. I’m not gentle about it, scraping my teeth lower until I find a nipple and take it into my mouth. His cock twitches beneath me. It causes my hips to swivel in circles, chasing an orgasm without ever letting him slide inside of my slick heat.
I give him one last bite and then I guide him inside of me. For a moment, I forget about the man who broke in, about the blood covering me just a bit ago, about how we’re fighting for the cruel things we said to each other. None of that matters right now, as Declan’s hands find my back and he makes soothing circles.
“Fuck, I didn’t believe her,” he groans.
I pick up the pace, riding him, taking him deep inside of me. My breasts bounce with the motion. “What?”
“It’s so sensitive. The ink. I’m going to come already.”
I growl, my hand finding his throat, and I squeeze. He lets out a pained grunt. “Are you talking about another woman while you’re inside of me?”
His face turns red, eyes wide when I realize he’s struggling for air. I clamp around him, the knowledge that I’m controlling something taken from me before now turning me on. I release him for a moment, letting him take in gulps of oxygen.
When he’s caught his breath, he grins up at me. “You may not like when I choke you, but fuck did your sweet cunt strangle me while you took the air from my lungs.” He grabs my hand and presses a kiss to the palm. “Again.”
With his direction, I wrap my fingers around him again, pressing hard enough that he struggles to breathe. I ride him until my clit slides against his pubic bone just right, sending me over the edge. I climax with his name on my lips, and his hot cum shooting inside of me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sammy:Why is Finn here? And why is he refusing to leave even though I told him you weren’t here?
Declan:I asked him to sit with you until I finish this up.
Sammy:Tell him to go home, now.
Declan:Absolutely not. He stays until I get home to you.
Sammy:Are you forgetting that I’m nine years older than you? I don’t need a babysitter.
Declan:Samira, you own a fucking murderous guard dog because you’re scared of being home alone.You shake every time a sudden noise is too loud, and three days ago you the man who killed your husband attempted to kill you. If you think I’m leaving you alone without protection while I’m not around to keep you safe, then you need to reevaluate your expectations of how a man is supposed to react when his woman is threatened.
Sammy:Ian died protecting me. I don’t need another man’s death on my hands.
Declan:I’m not dying anytime soon.
“Writing a novel over there?” Scotty asks from across the room.
I ignore my new brother-in-law, slip my phone back into my pocket, and just because I can, I punch the useless piece of shit in front of me dead square in the nose.
The skin on my knuckles peels off, my blood mixing with his as he sits in the basement of one of our warehouses. His face is unrecognizable now. Nothing adds up, and it pisses me off.
It’s a good thing I have this perfectly good punching bag to take out my aggression. Three days of no answers. My patience is running thin.
I can’t shake the pictures in my head. Sammy’s head on my chest, tears flowing while his blood covered her. The sound of screams when she took in the irony of how things circled back to the beginning. Death of the man who ruined her life in the same kitchen five years later.
“Why were you at the Cullens?” I ask.
“To get my dick sucked.”
I slam my fist into his face. Over and over.
“Enough,” Scotty calls. He comes out of the shadows, a pitcher of water in one hand, a dishrag in the other. “Let me have my fun with him, Dec. I’ll make him sing his crimes.”
“It’s mine,” I say through a growl.My girl, my confession to extract.
“You forget my area of expertise.” Scotty tilts his head to the side, taking in the broken appearance of the man who hurt Sammy. Not once, not twice, but three times.
“Is this a hired kill?” Scotty asks.
