The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(57)

He held both of my cheeks. “I know this won’t completely silence you, but at least your sounds will be muffled. If I had another tie, I’d shackle your wrists …” His voice trailed off as his fingers went to my shirt, unbuttoning what was left. “I have another idea.” Once the shirt was fully open, he positioned my arms behind my back and slid the material down to my elbows. Although I couldn’t see what he was doing, it seemed that he was tying both sides together, creating his own version of a straitjacket. He stepped back to admire his work. “Gorgeous.”

And submissive.

He’d taken away my voice and hands, and I was completely at his mercy.

I couldn’t reciprocate.

I couldn’t communicate what I wanted, needed.

I could only take.

And by the looks of it, that was about to start now as his hand returned to the spot between my legs.

The motion he used was circular, like he was spreading my wetness from my clit to my pussy, and my hips slid back and forth in anticipation.

“Do you feel the difference?” His mouth was near my neck, his words hitting my skin, like rocks thrown into a pond, the ripples causing more goose bumps to rise. “When you can’t touch or vocalize, there’s a different type of intensity.”

As he captured my earlobe and kissed down to my shoulder, he replaced his fingers with his crown. The wideness caressed my entrance, glided up to my clit, and back down. He did that over and over. Each time, I held in my breath, biting the tie, waiting for the fullness to take over. But each time, he was merely just passing by.

“Do you feel it, Hannah? The wanting? The longing?”

I nodded.

I sure did.

There was fire.

Awareness.

Every inch mattered, every breath.

I could feel the air he took into his body, as though I were on the inside, watching his lungs fill.

“You’re about to feel more.”

He slid in with zero hesitation. A move that was full of power and need, and he continued with deep, full strokes.

My eyes bulged; my breath got caught in my throat.

“Fuck me, Hannah. You’re so tight.”

With Declan, the beginning was always the most overwhelming. The stretching, the reacclimating. But once my body remembered him, the pleasure owned me.

“So fucking wet.”

I surrounded him with my legs, digging my heels into the back of his thighs. Since my arms were bound behind me, that was the only way I knew how to hold on.

“You like that …”

My mouth was stretched so thin that my lips absorbed his words like sponges.

“You want more …”

I wasn’t sure what he was referring to; there were so many parts to this—to us—but I easily liked it all, and I wanted everything.

He licked across my mouth, and the sound I released was quiet but clear, especially as his finger landed on my clit. This didn’t feel like any of the previous times he’d touched me.

This was an explosion.

A sensory overload.

I pulled at the shirt cuffed at my wrists. I didn’t want to be released. The straitjacket was strangely arousing. I just wanted to share the passion with something.

“You got there fast.”

If I could, I’d be screaming.

“I can feel it coming on. You’re getting tighter, wetter.” He nipped my cheek. “Should I take your orgasm away from you too?” His thumb paused on my clit.

What?

No!

I stabbed the heels even deeper into his thighs.

“Easy there.”

I didn’t lighten up.

“All right, all right.” His thumb picked up speed. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

And suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a slap across my clit.

It wasn’t hard. It didn’t make me yelp. It was just unexpected.

But with it came tingles, igniting through my body, causing everything inside me to become electric.

He did it again.

And again.

The swish of air, the slight sting from contact, was just enough to make me shudder.

Oh God.

“How fucking good does that feel?”

He growled into my throat as my head was back, my hair tickling the bare skin on my arms.

“There’s nothing better in this world than watching you come.”

The bursts were taking over, traveling throughout my body, turning me completely sensitive.

But he didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow.

He just ground his hips and drove through my wetness, his thumb returning to my clit as I breathed out the moans.

“Am I still an asshole?”

It took a second to process, to clear my head of all this paralyzing satisfaction.

Once I could make sense of his question, I nodded.

It took an asshole to think he could make me come by slapping my clit. Even if the move had been successful. Even if I would have screamed so loud if I could.

Even if I fucking loved it.

“Looks like I have a lot more work to do.”

He lifted me off the desk, creating a whole new balancing act since I couldn’t wrap my arms around his neck. He stayed inside me, thrusting. And at first, I was so stimulated that I couldn’t accept this new rhythm. But Declan was extremely good at reading my body, knowing what I needed. Knowing how to bring me back to that place.