Page 66 of Declan

“Fuck, darlin’,” I choke out. “You fucking have me. Goddamn it.”

I move off her, standing beside the sofa and pulling her up so she’s sitting upright, and then I sit next to her, my hands moving to her face to try to clean her up.

She shakes me off, saying, “Leave it,” and then her hands are fisting in my shirt, and she’s yanking me forward, her lips ravaging mine as she crawls into my lap.

I’m momentarily startled by her feral response, and she shoves me backward so I’m sprawled on my back with her straddling me, her pussy rubbing against my dick insistently.

I return her kiss, my tongue and teeth battling with hers, but when I attempt to sit up, she pushes me back down, her hand pressing against my chest as she reaches between us, shoving her underwear to the side.

Then she’s sliding down my dick, her body rocking over me, taking more and more of me inside with each rotation of her hips. I curse into her mouth, bucking my hips up until I’m seated fully inside her, and she grinds against me feverishly.

She moves on me rapidly, first sliding up and down and then grinding and undulating, never sticking with a rhythm for long. I see the tension on her face and the trembling of her body as she attempts to find that sweet spot that will set her off.

“I can’t,” she gasps, her features twisting in frustration as her orgasm remains just out of reach. “Fuck. I need it. I need it.”

I move to sit up again, and this time, she doesn’t stop me, so I use my forward momentum to take us to the floor with me on top of her, still balls-deep inside her.

I brace my knees wide, reach my hands out, and grasp her top, yanking the two sides apart until they give way. I unhook the front clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts to my pinching, teasing fingers, and she bucks her hips up, crying out at the added sensation.

I pull out until just the tip of my cock is inside her, and she looks up at me, thrusting her hips up and sobbing in frustration. “Rub your clit, darlin’. Touch yourself while I fuck you.”

She moves a hand between her legs, her fingers rubbing her clit urgently, and I fuck her with the same urgency, pulling out and shoving in at a rapid pace.

I’m slamming into her, the jarring force of my body ramming into hers, causing us to slide along the floor, so I grab her hips in my hands, pulling her as I push forward, her guttural demands spurring me into a frenzy as she cries, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

“Fuck, Issa,” I respond, rutting into her like a man possessed, her hand working her clit feverishly. “You’re going to come for me. You’re going to come all over my dick.”

She cries out, her torso bowing as the building tension inside her finally reaches a crescendo, and then she’s sobbing and cursing incoherently, her pussy clenching around my cock rhythmically.

I release my grip on her hips and fall forward; my hands braced on either side of her head as I jackhammer into her, my balls slapping against her with every thrust inside. I shove in once more and then freeze with my cock pushed deep. I drop my head forward, pressing my face into her neck as I moan my release.

I lie limply on top of her, barely managing to keep the bulk of my weight off of her, when I feel her shudder beneath me. Worried she’s crying, I push myself off her immediately, my hands moving to cup her face as I say, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

She opens her eyes, and I see they aren’t full of tears of sadness or pain; they’re tears of laughter, and I frown down at her, annoyed I was concerned for a woman who is now laughing at what just happened between us.

I move to pull away, but her hands grip my wrists, keeping my hands pressed against her face, and she smiles up at me, almost dreamily. “No, don’t go yet.”

“Are you laughing at me?” I ask rather childishly.

She shakes her and says, “No, baby. I’m laughing at us and everything that’s happening and the crazy-hot fucking thing we just did despite all of it.”

“Crazy-hot thing, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies breathlessly. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

I shake my head at her and then bend closer, kissing her lips before I push away, this time coming up to my knees and adjusting my underwear so I’m no longer hanging out in the wind.

She sits up as I stand, and then I reach down, helping her to her feet and adjusting her torn dress so she’s mostly covered. Then I look between us and smile, completely understanding what she meant when she said she needed that. Because apparently, I did, too.

She looks over at me, a concerned expression falling over her features, and she steps close to me as she asks, “Are you okay?”

I shrug, not sure how to answer such a complicated question in this very moment, but she waits, staring up at me expectantly.

“I can’t bear to be without you,” I finally confess, and her eyes widen, surprise evident on her features as I continue, “Every moment I’m away from you, I feel like my soul is dying.”

She smiles wistfully, her hands coming up to cup my face as she rises up on her toes and brushes her mouth against mine. “It’s not forever, baby,” she whispers against my lips, then she pulls away, gives me a stern look, and adds, “You’ll live.”

I laugh, seeing the humor in my dramatic statement, even if I feel it’s the truth. She joins me in my laughter, then sighs and walks toward the door, stopping about halfway there and turning back to me.

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