Page 40 of Declan

Giving up any semblance of hesitancy, I scoot my ass to the edge of the seat and spread my legs wider. He adjusts his hand, his fingers rubbing over my clit rhythmically, and before I know it, I’m right there—right on the edge.

A throat clears, the fingers between my legs still, and my body twitches in frustration. I blink at our server, who has magically appeared at the table and is now leaning forward, removing plates. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him through the roaring in my ears. Declan leans in, his hand still resting between my legs as he says, “The man’s asking how everything was darling. Aren’t you gonna answer him?”

I turn my attention to the waiter, entirely sure the wild look in my eyes is evident, then I clear my throat and croak out, “Great. Everything’s great.”

The man smiles, makes some kind of comment on how our next course will be out shortly, and then walks away. I don’t pretend not to be affected; I hump Declan’s hand, begging him with my body to pick up where he left off.

He moves his hand as if he’s going to pull away, and I grab onto his wrist, keeping him in place as I hiss, “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”

He growls appreciatively, leaning his head into me and kissing my jaw as he picks up a faster rhythm, and it only takes moments before I’m spiraling.

He leans toward me, and I twist my upper body so I’m pressing my face into his neck, my gasping moan of pleasure muted by the warmth of him. I grab onto the front of his shirt with my hand, pulling him closer, and then moving that same hand to his jaw as I kiss up his neck and along his jaw, seeking his lips.

I have no idea when I shifted from indifference to sexual demon, but the overwhelming need to be possessed by a man I used to loathe is intense, and I want nothing more than to please him as he pleases me.

He kisses me slowly, almost lazily, and I moan into his mouth, the sexual gratification instantly reigniting. I push closer to him. He pulls back, chuckling against my lips, and when I open my eyes, my breath catches at the blatant want in his gaze.

I slide my hand down his chest, pausing on his stomach, and his lips curve up as he waits to see what I’m going to do. Because so far, I haven’t done much to reciprocate the pleasure he has given me.

And when I’ve offered, he has put me off, something I was grateful for at the time, if not slightly confused. And somehow, he has this uncanny ability to be completely naked without ever allowing me to see his fully nude form.

Now, I’m curious—and starved. Desperate to give him even a tiny fraction of the pleasure he has given me so selflessly.

I inch my hand downward, over the waistband of his pants, and he freezes, his eyes flaring as he continues to watch me. I pause, my hand at the very top of his zipper, and I feel his cock there, pressing into my hand. I push down firmly, my fingers gripping and squeezing, earning a soft grunt from him for my small effort.

Pleasure flashes inside me, and I slide my hand down until I’m gripping the hard length of him. I tug gently, watching his face as his eyes close, and he licks his lips, a whimper falling from his mouth directly into my clenching pussy.

I want to touch him. I want my hands on his naked flesh. I want to stroke, kiss, and lick him until he begs me to let him come.

I make quick work of the fastening on his pants, making note of his lack of underwear as I slide his zipper down enough for me to wedge my hand inside. I whisper against his mouth, “My naughty, naughty man…”

He smiles, then murmurs, “I’m naughty? What about you, sticking your hand down my pants in a public place?”

“What can I say,” I reply saucily. “You’ve turned me into a sexual deviant.”

“As long as you’re my sexual deviant, I’ll accept it.” His words are breathless, and I twist my hand so I can stroke his naked flesh more easily.

I haven’t touched many dicks in my virgin life, but something definitely feels off here.

I pull my hand out of his pants, then yank his pants open, and lean closer, wanting to see whatever it is on his dick that feels less than flesh-like.

I blink, frowning as I take in what appears to be metal barbells all along the underside. He chuckles, leaning forward and pressing his face against the back of my neck as he asks, “Is there a problem, darlin’?”

I sit back, staring at him with wide eyes as I ask, “What is that?”

He sits forward, pulling the edge of the tablecloth over his lap as he replies calmly, “That is a piercing.”

“Apiercing?“ I reply incredulously. “Awould insinuate one, and that appears to be way more than one piercing.”

He shrugs, then adds, “The whole setup is referred to as a Jacob’s Ladder, so I consider it to be one piercing.”

I stare at him, unsure of what to say, and when I try to move the tablecloth out of the way to get another look, he swats me away.

“Are you scared?” he asks almost hesitantly, worry evident in his features.

I shake my head emphatically, a short giggle escaping as I reply, “Not at all.”

“Really? Because you seem worried.”

---