The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(12)

“My God, Declan.” Despite the dark alley, I felt her eyes on mine. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Let’s see if you can handle me.” I pulled the bottom of her skirt up to her waist, not wanting to take the time to remove it, and I slipped her thong to the side. My fingers met her heat and wetness. “Goddamn it, you’re perfect.”

Each time I passed her clit, flicking it, she cried out louder.

Her hips rocked toward me.

She was ready, desperate to be touched, frantic to come.

“You’re dripping.” And that was only her clit. Once I lowered to her pussy, I found she was soaked there as well. I slid in a finger, going in as deep as my knuckle, the walls of her cunt already clenching around me. “Hannah, you’re so fucking tight.”

She wasn’t a virgin—that much I could tell—but I wouldn’t call her experienced either.

She’d certainly never been fucked the way she needed.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you’re going to do to me.” She rubbed around my crown as though she were using her tongue. “How to even prepare myself for it.”

My size, my power—I wasn’t average.

And she wasn’t the first woman to infer that.

So, I responded, “You mean, the pain?”

“That, yes.”

I hummed against her skin, “I’ll be gentle … at first.”

“But also how you’re going to make me feel.” She swallowed. “How loud I’m going to scream.”

I pulled her bra down to expose her tit, taking the peak into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the hardness. I gnawed and then licked, a pattern of inflicting pain and then calming with pleasure.

That was what she did to me, what she caused—this urge to hurt and heal.

To own and mark.

She had a body that was everything I wanted.

She wasn’t lanky and flat and straight.

Hannah had curves.

A body I would kill to see in the light, to watch the way her skin glowed as I kissed it, how she would dip and arch each time I plunged inside her.

But I wasn’t going to get that right now.

Right now, all I could do was graze my way across her and memorize each spot, like her clit that I couldn’t stop rubbing.

Aside from her mouth, a woman’s pussy couldn’t manipulate the truth. It couldn’t lie. It couldn’t deceive.

A cunt told you exactly the way a woman was feeling.

And Hannah’s was fucking screeching.

Begging.

Yearning.

“Declan …” She gasped. “Ahhh.”

So far, I hadn’t gone in farther than my knuckle. But I pushed in deeper, curving upward, twisting, turning until I felt her G-spot. The second I touched it, I earned myself a howl louder than any she’d released so far.

“Oh God.” Her hand stilled on my cock, squeezing. “What are you doing to me?”

I didn’t know why my lips went to hers.

Why I wanted to feel the softness of them once again.

Why I wanted to taste her exhales.

But I locked us together, inhaling each of her breaths, rotating our tongues.

Hannah. Fuck.

She thought I was doing something to her … but she was the one doing something to me.

Her fingers dropped from my dick, and her arms circled my neck, pulling me closer. The moment our lips parted, her head leaned against the wall, my mouth falling to her throat, feeling the purr that thrummed inside.

“I need to feel you come.”

She wasn’t far.

Every sign in her body told me that.

I left her throat and leaned down farther to take her nipple into my mouth, biting the end, sucking it as though she were feeding me. With my palm pressed against her clit, I worked my finger in and out, tapping that spot deep inside her, adding a second finger when she began to tighten more.

“Declan …” Her nails stabbed the back of my neck, her body becoming slack. It only took a few more seconds before her moans turned higher, her wetness thickening as it coated my fingers.

“Fuck yes, Hannah.” I picked up speed. “Give me that fucking orgasm.”

As a wave of shudders moved through her, fluttering her muscles and limbs, every exhale turned into a pant. She eventually became silent, her body frozen until a swish of air exited her lips, ending in, “What the fuck was that?”

“The very beginning,” I growled. “That’s all that was.”

As I pulled my fingers out, her thong moved back to its original place.

A place that was in the way.

I held the lace strings at her sides and tore them off her, tucking the flimsy fabric into my pocket where I’d stored the condom. With the metal foil now in my hand, I bit off the corner of the packet and placed the rubber on her palm.

“Put this on me.”

It had been minutes since she’d touched my cock, and the moment she returned to it, she spread the bead of pre-cum that glistened at the tip.

She didn’t roll the condom over me.

Instead, she surrounded me with both hands and bobbed up and down my shaft, holding on tightly, mimicking what her pussy was going to do.

“Fuck”—I pressed my forehead against hers—“yes.”

A hand wasn’t normally enough for me, but Hannah’s strokes felt incredible. So much so that I had to repay the favor, lunging back into her pussy—a spot still so fucking wet that she soaked my finger.