Down and Out(86)

I shake my head against the comforter, briefly closing my eyes as he rubs his head around my clit in measured circles. Why does he get off on teasing me so mercilessly? It’s not fair.
“The way you clench and unclench around me. . . It’s like you’re milking my cock with your *.” His breath is a harsh rasp as he says, “It’s the best f*cking feeling in the world.”
Right on cue, my walls clench as I wait in breathless anticipation. Have I mentioned how much I love his dirty talk?
Declan slips and slides along me until he becomes poised at my entrance, and when the velvety tip of him starts to push inside me, I groan.
“We can’t keep doing this without a condom,” he grates, though he makes no effort to stop or slow down.
Biting my lip, I steal a glance at him over my shoulder. “Just don’t come in me, okay?” My eyes take in the ink swirling up his forearms as he grips my hips, then flick up higher to admire the way his white Henley stretches across his biceps. It’s a shame I won’t really be able to watch him in this position. . .
It would help in more ways than one.
“I’ll pull out, I promise.”
He pulls out a bit, wetting himself with my arousal, then slides into me all at once, raw, hot, and completely unfettered. Violent starbursts erupt behind my lids at the delicious, full feeling of being possessed by him. I clutch the blanket in my fists and moan into the mattress as his fingers dig into me. I think I hear a curse buried somewhere in his unintelligible sounds as he pulls back and thrusts forward, making my breasts bounce with the force.
Soon he establishes a steady pace. The only sounds that fill the room are his harsh breaths and the slap of his skin against mine. It’s all too familiar and I feel myself start to slip back into dangerous territory when Declan speaks and pulls me back into the moment.
“You feel so f*cking good,” he rasps. “It’s like you were made for me.”
“Keep talking,” I breathe against the mattress, clinging to his words like they can anchor me to here and now. “I need to hear your voice.”
Declan groans as he slams into me. “You’re so wet. Is that for me? Did I make you that wet?”
I nod as a breathy moan leaves me.
He thrusts harder. “Say it,” he bites out.
Gasping, I feel the familiar tension coiling low, urged onward by the punishing rhythm of his hips as he surges within me again and again. “Yes, it’s for you. Just you.” I reach between my legs and touch myself, desperately trying to reach that high I know is waiting for me.
“No,” he says, pinning my arm behind my back at the wrist. Panic spikes in me, but it doesn’t dim the overwhelming arousal riding me. Instead it gives it a sharp edge. “If you’re gonna come, it’ll be from my cock and the way I’m f*cking you. Do you understand?”
Declan’s voice soothes away the panic and leaves something else burning in its place. Something good. This is different. This is Declan. Focus on that. “Yes,” I moan, fisting the sheet with my free hand.
The hand still holding my hip leaves, and a second later I feel it wrapping around my ponytail. I cry out as Declan pulls my head back, making my back arch while he rams into me. He’s got my knees and the front of my thighs pinned against the side of the mattress with my arm still caught between us as he thrusts behind me. The slight change in position has him dragging against all the right spots and I can feel myself tightening around him.
“God,” Declan groans. “You’re close, I can feel it. Are you gonna come all over my cock?”
I gasp and curse, feeling closer and closer to my release. It’s going to be epic, I just know it.
“Shit,” he says. “I’m getting so deep this way. I—can—feel—everything,” he grates in time with his thrusts.
My muscles clamp down on him right as he stills and my whole body screams in protest. Why is he stopping? I’m right there!
“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” I yell frantically as I push back with my hips.
He releases my wrist and my hair, gripping my hips once more as he slams into me with abandon. Every single muscle locks up as a tidal wave of ecstasy rips through my core. I cry out as rushing blood fills my ears, followed by the sound of my pounding heart and shallow breaths.
Vaguely, I hear Declan groan while his movements turn jerky. Warmth floods me, but I’m too busy riding the wave as it fans outward, making my toes curl and my fingers clutch the blanket while I push back thrust for thrust.
Declan’s fingers eventually loosen from their death-grip on my hips. He leans forward and rests his forehead to my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my back.
My high fades as an ugly, familiar emotion creeps in and makes my skin crawl. I can’t seem to catch my breath, my eyes fluttering closed as I try to stop the flashback from happening.
Pain lances up my arm as he twists it behind my back and mashes my face into the beige fabric of the couch. All I can smell is the scent of Febreze as he grunts behind me, knees wedged between mine as I’m spread apart and bent over the seat while he takes his “due.” My legs quake as shame clogs my throat and hot tears stream down the side of my face, but not because it hurts.
No, the tears are because my traitorous body wouldn’t stop responding to him.
I’m crying because I just came.







Aftershocks pulse through me and send shivers up my spine. I think I’m momentarily brain dead as I slip out of Savannah, because it takes me a moment to realize why there’s so much extra . . . wetness.