“You might as well forget it.”
“Tell me,” Franklin leans toward me. He’s so close I can smell him now, and I don’t like it. It’s not that he smells acidic, but he smells…spoiled. At least compared to Declan. “Does he come with the city?”
“He comes with me.” I raise my eyebrows in challenge before adding, “And for me.”
“For now.” Franklin leans back and smirks at me and Henry. He shoves his hands into his pockets like he’s trying to look casual as he leans against the bannister rail at the.
“It’s time for you to pack up and go,” I tell him.
“I think we’ll stay.”
“You can leave, or I’ll make you leave.” I square my shoulders and stare him down. Franklin is shorter than me, but he’s standing on a stair forcing me to look up at him.
“I look forward to seeing you try, little Clarke.”
I scowl at him, sucking my tongue across the front of my teeth and hating that he knows my name. I decide to not offer him the pleasure of a reply to his smug retort, so I give him my back. Henry follows me out of the club, joining me on the sidewalk once I finally stop walking.
We’re at least two blocks from the club and a frustrated and angry cry falls out of my mouth. I spin on my heel and slam my fist into the concrete wall, inches away from Henry’s face. He doesn’t flinch; he just gives me a kind of sad, but understanding look.
“Fuck.” I pull my hand back and shake it out. There’re scratches on my knuckles and the start of a bruise. I flex my fingers and wipe the blood on the front of my jeans.
“I know.”
“I don’t fucking want this, Henry.” I turn and stare at the street, my hands braced on my hips. I can still hear the music from Coven, and I can still smell the putrid rot of Franklin Smith in my nose.
“I know,” he says again. “But it’s yours all the same.”
“Is there any way around killing him?” I sit down on the curb and Henry sits beside me. “Not that I’m against the idea of murdering him to death with a giant, splintery branch or anything. I just want to know. Should we call a council meeting?”
“You don’t need to use a branch,” he offers with a small laugh, “but no, I don’t think there’s a way around it. The town is ours and it’ll fall on us. And we need to act quickly before anything escalates.”
“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I really want to go home.”
Henry stands up and holds his hand out to help me up. We walk back to the house in comfortable silence except for the shuffle of our feet over the blacktop and the gravel. Liz’s car is in the driveway when we get home, and as soon as I’m through the front door, Declan’s scent permeates every pore and cell in my body.
I toe my shoes off and jog up the stairs. The door to our bedroom is closed and I throw it open and step inside. Declan is on the bed, naked and writhing across the sheets with his cock in his hand and two fingers buried inside of his own ass. He looks at me and moans, pushing his fingers deeper and spreading his legs wider.
I kick the door closed and tear out of my clothes in the space between the door and the bed, and I crawl on top of him and run the length of my cock over his knuckles.
“Did you take care of your business?” he asks just before I slant our mouths together. He yields to me and I kiss him, covering my mouth with his taste and his skin with my hands.
He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers in and out of his ass and his hand is dragging across my erection with every move he makes. I rut against him and he pulls his fingers out, revealing a small, slippery gape.
“Do it,” he rasps, so I push inside of him with one, smooth glide.
He’s tight since the only prep he’s had has been from his own hand, but his hole is slippery and cool and I ease into him because he feels like home to me.
“Do what you promised, Ezra,” he pleads, releasing his cock and fisting the sheets. He arches off the bed and spreads himself open for me. I pull out and slide back in, slow and easy, to drive him crazy.
It’s driving me crazy too, but none of that matters right now. I fuck him with torturously slow thrusts until he’s crying with need and begging and pleading with me, and then he snaps. He reaches for me and drags his nails down my back. Each sharp nail cuts into my skin and he grinds his fingers into my ass and pulls me deeper into him.
I flip him onto his stomach and pull him up on his knees. Biting his pillow, Declan bucks against me, and I tease him with the tips of my fingers around the place where we’re joined. I start to fuck him now. Not all out, but quicker and harsher than before. I thrust against him with measured jerks of my hips.
He fights me, pressing back for more and mumbling indecipherable words. I flatten my forearm against the base of his spine and hold him to the bed. He tests my strength and groans like a slut when he realizes he can’t get away from me.
“I’m your slut,” he pants, one blue eye visible in the tangle of bedding. “Yours forever.”
When I pull out, I flatten my first two fingers against the underside of my shaft and push back into him. He gasps and squirms, and I push until my cock is deep inside of him and my knuckles are testing the swollen pink pucker of his rim. I slide them around from the bottom of my cock to the top, watching the way his skin tightens and gives for me. Declan is moaning my name and I force a third finger into him, then begin to move.
