Page 94 of Mercenary
My nightmares and daydreams have nothing on the actual reality. And instead of sleeping, I stay awake, reliving in vivid detail what happened last night as if it were happening all over again.
I’m nestled in Declan’s strong arms as he carries me into his bedroom. He tosses me onto the mattress and crawls across my body. His proud erection rubs against my skin before he sits up and swiftly rolls on a condom.
I spread my legs invitingly. Instead he kisses a trail across my belly all the way to my sensitive core. One lick, and my hips arch in the air. Before he uses his thighs to pin mine in place, limiting my movements as his mouth finds my nub.
Taking my sensitive flesh between his lips, he nips and licks until pain and pleasure blend into one.
Just like Declan himself.
I moan to the gods above, loud enough the entire population of Oklahoma could hear, when he slides his tongue between my lips and proceeds to ruthlessly fuck me. The biologist within me never imagined my body would respond so quickly, not after my prior two deliciously wicked climaxes. I’d skipped the female sexuality class in favor of molecular biology. But sweet Mary, I’m wrong. An unexpectedly fast orgasm rips through me, the bed rocking beneath me as the stars high-five over me and as Declan licks away until I’m completely, utterly destroyed.
In a postclimax daze, I feel myself lifted and shifted up further on the mattress. Then Declan’s touch as he trails his thumb across my cheek, bringing me back from Big-O land.
“Ready?” he asks, dangerous yet seductive. I gasp when he pins my arms over my head, and it becomes clear that darker side to Declan is about to rain down on me.
He drives into me, hard, my body shifting up on the mattress as I take him in.
“I need to go deeper. Take you completely. Make you . . .” He thrusts into me, doing just that, going deeper, taking me completely. “Mine,” he groans into my ear.
Lifting my hips up on his next thrust, he hits a place so deep inside me I see stars. And just like that, I’m back on orgasm road.
I study his dark expression. He’s still fighting it. Fighting this . . . us. But that’s my last coherent thought before he lifts me up from my bottom and drives wildly into me. Over and over.
“Yes. Yes,” I pant.
He bends his head and runs kisses across my jawline, up to my ear, then to the side of my throat. His lips suckle at me as his cock thrusts into me, in and out until I’m on the verge of another killer orgasm.
“Kiss me.” I’d turn my head sideways. “Kiss me, Declan, while I come.”
He shifts his lips off my neck, then looks down at me, a funny expression on his face.
“Tell me to fuck off and I’ll let you go,” he tells me. “You’ll be free of this world I dragged you into, free to go on with your life. Pursue the career you’ve been working toward. Marry a nice guy who’ll be gentle with you. A guy who’ll love you.”
“All I’m asking for is a kiss,” I lie, the quiver in my voice giving me away. This matters. This means something. To me. To him.
This strong, coldhearted man. Bossy, controlling, arrogant at times. Overbearing and overprotective. My protector. My hero. Yet in that second, I know instinctively we reached some kind of precipice outside on the porch. A simple kiss no longer seems so simple. And now . . . now! . . . he’s pulling away?
No way in hell am I letting him get away.
I reach up, cup his jaw with my palms, and draw his head toward me. “Why did you leave me your cell number? You could have dropped me off at college and cut all further contact with me. But I’ve wondered about why you’d do that. Why someone like you, a self-proclaimed soulless, coldhearted man, would leave his number for me?”
He flexes his hips, sliding out to slam back into me. My head hits the headboard from the power behind his thrust. I moan, loving his wicked possession of me.
“I’m a bastard. I’ve done things . . .” he grinds out, moving his hips into a frantic rhythm, “that’ll make you cringe . . .” He groans, his body shaking. “Someone like you will grow to hate me for . . .”
His cock thickens inside of me, his climax approaching.
“You might not be the man I thought you were . . .”
No. I’m not letting him fuck me silly without dragging him over this emotional ledge we keep tottering on. Jesus, I want another taste of him, the intimacy of his kiss. Truth is I want it even more than the orgasm cresting up inside of me, about to get me off like a rocket.
“But you’re not the man you think you are, either,” I inform him.
His lips part. To acknowledge or deny, I don’t know. I don’t care.
I hush him.
“When you climax inside me, I want you to think about one word.”
