The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(40)

I wanted her to come.

But I didn’t want this to end.

“Oh fuck,” she cried, as though she were listening to my thoughts again.

This was my battle, not hers.

I was the one in control.

And if I wanted to draw this out, punishing her for that naughty little mouth, for not remembering our night together, for dropping that precedent in my lap while I’d been meeting with her cousins, then I had that authority.

“Don’t you dare come,” I threatened as she tightened around my finger.

My tongue stilled.

My hand halted.

“Declan! Please!”

I waited several seconds before I started up again, allowing the build to fade. But as soon as I resumed the licking, her hips picked right back up, rocking against my face, bringing her orgasm to the surface.

Once I sensed its arrival, I pulled back.

“Ah! No!”

It was a game.

But this wasn’t about winning.

This was about ownership.

Hannah’s orgasms were mine.

I decided when they happened.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t fighting for one, wringing my hair like it was a fucking sponge, screaming like she wanted security to hear.

“Declan,” she gasped as I dived back in. “Yes!”

She was too close, so I slowed.

A cycle I continued to repeat.

A pattern I didn’t want to stop.

“Please,” she urged, staring down at me, lips wet and parted. Feral. “Please let me come.”

Maybe I just wanted to hear her beg.

Or maybe I wanted to reach the point where my dick couldn’t wait another second to sink into her.

Both of her hands were in my hair now, and, “Oh God, yes,” was filling my ears.

It would only take a few more swipes, and she’d be shuddering.

Was that what I wanted?

To have her cum pool on my tongue?

Or did I want her first orgasm to be on my cock?

Knowing her pussy was so tight that it’d felt like I was taking her virginity even though I knew I wasn’t. But still, she had a cunt that felt as though it had been molded just for me.

I wanted that cunt squeezing my shaft.

I wanted her wetness soaking me.

I gave her one final lick, and as I stood, I wiped her off my cheeks but left my mouth alone. I wanted her to dry there, on that bit of skin, so I had something to smell when I got home.

Her eyes penetrated me as I took a step back. “You’re vicious.”

“I warned you.”

She tried to inhale. “But that was …”

“I know what that was, Hannah.”

I took out my wallet, where I kept a spare condom. Once she noticed what I had in my hand, her eyes changed.

They darkened.

“I want you naked, sitting on the table with your knees bent, feet clinging to the edge.”

She didn’t move. She just let the words simmer into her smile.

“Now.”





TWELVE





HANNAH





Declan Shaw was an asshole. He took his anger and frustration out on me. Maybe I could rationalize that behavior as my punishment for lying to him about being drunk. But what I couldn’t rationalize was the evidence I had of him and Madison. A photo that still lived on my phone—his lips red, matching hers. Nor could I excuse that he had left me that night for her.

But there was wine running through my veins, and the desire to come was thundering inside my pussy, my needs charged like I was plugged into an outlet. And, oh God, this man could fuck like the thoroughbreds my parents invested in. I’d be an absolute idiot to pass up a dick like Declan’s.

So, I was making an exception.

I was thinking only with my body.

Besides, he’d made it clear that this was never going to happen again.

I could accept that.

I could focus on the now.

Because, now, he was going to make me feel the best I ever had.

That was why, when he told me to get naked and sit on the conference room table, I obeyed his order.

I tossed my tank top and sports bra, the only things I had on, and climbed onto the cold, smooth wood.

This was the table where my family had offered me my internship.

Where my aunt and uncle had told me they were proud of me.

Where, as a little kid, I’d colored with Uncle David’s highlighters on the days that Dad visited his brother and dragged me with him.

Would they be proud of this?

“Touch yourself.”

That question was immediately answered the second his command hit my ears.

He stood only feet away, fully dressed. His lips wet, his fingers damp—from me. His eyes ravenous as he took me in.

Touch myself?

Something I’d only ever done in the privacy of my own bed, never in front of a man.

This was just another thing that I could add to the growing Declan List, underneath having sex outside, against a building, in the dark, with practically a stranger.

“Now,” he growled.

As my knees bent, my feet rounding the edge of the table, I stared into his eyes.

A man who, more or less, had become my enemy.

But in this room, I’d felt something different from him.