Bang(69)

“You’re doing it right now.”

Pointing at my dampened cheeks, I state, “This is weakness.”

With his hands cradling my head, he contradicts my words, saying, “This . . . this is strength,” before licking the salt of my pain.

I hold on to his wrists as he rests his head against mine in this soft moment. I feel like I use Declan so much for this, for this comfort I’ve never really had before. He gives it in a way that’s different from Pike, and it feels good. Peaceful. I know my time is limited with Declan, so I might as well take what I can while I have him.

And in an unusual reaction for me, I reach down to the hem of his shirt and lift it up, peeling it away and dropping it to the floor. He takes my face in his large hands again and holds me still as he looks down at me, and I swear he can see inside of me.

I begin to unbutton his pants, and when he’s finally naked with me, he drops his head to my chest, grazing the stubble of his jaw lightly over my nipple. The friction is replaced with the smooth softness of his tongue. I feel it between my legs when he sucks the pert bud into his mouth as he continues to caress me with his tongue.

His touches are soft, not like his usual display of dominance over me, and in this moment, I need the softness. So as I nestle my fingers into his thick hair, I move his head to look up at me and breathe, “Don’t tie me up. Not this time.”

He’s never not restrained me or been forceful in his touch, so when he gives me a nod, I’m a bit surprised. This is the first time he’s allowed me to touch him during sex, and in this moment of uncharacteristic fragility, I let my hands wander along the deep cut lines of his muscular body as it hovers over mine. We move at a relaxed pace, his hand skimming over every curve of my body.

When he positions himself between my legs, he holds his cock in his hand and runs the head of it up through my folds to my clit and slowly back down, saying, “I’m gonna make your heart beat,” as he pushes himself inside of me, filling me entirely as my eyes fall shut.

He f*cks me with slow, deepening strokes. There’s no friction, no tension. It’s just the two of us moving in this tender rhythm.

“Open your eyes. Connect with me.”

I do, and he never takes his focus away from me. He’s never felt so real as he does right now, in this very moment. The collusion on my part festers guilt inside of me, but it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be this live wire that I am right now, gripping on to the broad knots of muscle that run along his arms. I shouldn’t be feeling the pleasure that he’s slowly building to fruition inside of me. I shouldn’t be allowing him to do this to me, allowing me to do this to myself. It’s too ripe, too much life.

I’m getting lost between reality and fantasy, and I need to pull pack. I didn’t think Declan would be able to drive me so high like he’s doing, moving as slowly as he is, so I close my eyes in a weak attempt to fight it away. To fight away the foreign emotions that are brewing inside.

You will not feel.

You will not feel.

You will not feel.

“Oh, God,” I moan without any filter of control.

“Let yourself go with me,” he urges when he takes my hand in his, lacing his fingers with mine as I begin to tremble into a shattering explosion of colorless light.

Clinging my free arm around him, he never lets go of my hand. Holding him tightly against me, my body writhes and bows up into his as I ride out the wave of ecstasy, coming hard around his cock. When I look up at him, I see the grimace in his face as he continues to move inside of me and then pulls out.

“What are you doing?” I ask, knowing he didn’t come.

He lies on top of me, bracing himself on his elbows with his face over mine.

“Why?” I breathe out on an uneven whisper.

“Because that was for you.”

Don’t let yourself feel.

Don’t let yourself feel.

My cycle of words slowly dies inside of my tightening chest. The thickness of my throat makes it hard and painful to breathe, and I know he sees it when he gently squeezes my hand that he’s still holding and says, “Don’t hide. If you need to cry, it’s okay.”

Immediately, with his words, the liquid heat fills my eyes, blurring my vision of his face into a prismatic swirling of watercolors before they finally spill out and run down the sides of my face. He rolls us to our sides, never letting go of my hand, as I quietly weep into the warmth of his skin.

We stay in bed for most of the morning. Declan cooks us a late breakfast while I take a shower and get ready. The smell of eggs is in the air when I walk into the living area and over to Declan who’s standing over the stove.

“Smells good,” I say as I slide up next to him and watch as he folds the egg of the omelet over a mixture of tomatoes and spinach.

“You hungry?”

“Starved,” I answer before he leans down to give me a kiss filled with eagerness as his tongue invades my mouth. He doesn’t stop f*cking my mouth with his until the scent of burning egg wafts through the air.

“Fuck,” he says, pulling the pan off the stove and onto the unlit burner, making me laugh as I move over and start opening and closing cabinets. “What are you looking for?”

“A mug.”

He walks over, opening the door to one of the cabinets and pulls down a mug for me, saying, “There’s coffee in the French press,” as he nods to the glass carafe on the counter.