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His smile stretches across his face, and he brushes some of my hair behind my ear. “I wouldn’t miss one of our Thursdays for the world.”
Thursday, Jan. 14
“Ow!” I scream a little more dramatically than necessary.
“I’m sorry, princess. Let me help.”
“No! I’m mad at you!”
Declan gives me a stupid, adorable as fuck, puppy dog face. “I know, baby.”
“It’s not funny!”
“You’re right,” he agrees.
“I told you I didn’t want to go rock climbing at the mall. I told you I wasn’t coordinated enough.”
“You did.” He continues to agree with me.
“And you kept begging me to. I said no, and you kept pressuring me.”
He nods. “I’m a total ass.”
I ball my hands into fists in front of me. “Stop agreeing with me!”
He shakes his head. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Why?”
“Because your feelings are valid.”
I drop my head back and look to the ceiling. “I hate you so much right now,” I say with a laugh.
He boxes me in against the kitchen counter. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Oh yeah?” I laugh. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” He leans down, but right before his lips touch mine, he bumps my injured ankle.
“Ow!” My ankle is fine. It’ll be a bruise at most, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He looks down at my ankle and gives me a concerned look. “Oh, I’m sorry baby.” He grabs my waist and lifts me up onto the counter. “Want me to make it better?”
I throw my head back and laugh. “God! Stop! It’s so cringy!”
His eyes twinkle with mischief, but they darken when he grabs my ankle in his hand and brings it up to his mouth. He makes sure to make eye contact with me before pressing his lips against my skin.
He closes his eyes as he runs his nose up my leg, placing soft kisses all the way up my thighs. He inhales when he reaches the edge of my shorts, and he pushes them and my underwear to the side. He wraps his hands around my thighs as he devours my pussy with his mouth.
I thread my fingers in his hair and lean back on my other hand as his tongue circles my clit and plunges inside of me. He works me up until my skin is buzzing, and then he sucks my clit into his mouth, suctioning around it until I spasm on his mouth, leaking all down his chin.
He stands back up, wiping his mouth with his forearm, breathing heavily. “Feel better?”
I take a few moments, still catching my breath. “Much.” I hop off the counter and spin Declan around. “My turn,” I say, falling to my knees in front of him.
Thursday, Jan. 21
“Hi.” I answer the door, wearing a football jersey and yoga shorts that don’t cover anything. My asscheeks hang out the back as I turn and walk toward the kitchen, giving Declan the view as he follows me in.
