Apparently, we all have office-quiet orgasm voices, because the sexy moans Case makes tonight are definitelynotquiet.
At all.
Finally, she pats him on the head and he sits up, me moving with him. She scoots down the bed as Declan and I shift things around a little as he enters her bare. Her feet end up bracedon my thighs, because I’m kneeling with my legs straddling Declan’s.
Meanwhile, I’m holding my breath as I watch him enter her. I study the way she looks as he kisses her, all of it.
I reach down and cup my hands around the tops of her feet, nothing more.
But I want to feel connected to her, too, even in this little way.
Her eyes open and she meets my gaze for a moment, finally giving me aslow, lazy wink as Declan starts moving.
Her eyes fall closed again and I shift my position a little. Now he’s fucking himself between me and her, and…
Daaaamn.
NowI understand why Ellen loved this kind of fiction. Reading it, I thought it was sometimes a confusing jumble of limbs and nothing but filler for the plot.
But as I watch Casey’s face, the way Declan seems to shift roles from boyto lover for her, him knowing things about herIdon’t even know despite me knowing her for most of Declan’s life…
I’m learning.
I’m learning not only am I not nearly as smart as I thought I was, but maybe I need to rethink my whole approach to this.
Maybe instead of trying to claim Declan as mine and take him from her, maybe I need to think more about how they could both be mine.
And I couldbe theirs.
I think about Susa, how much she loves Carter and Owen. How much the men love each other and her.
If it’s worked for them…
Why couldn’t it work for us, too?
As he’s fucking her, I don’t have to do a lot. I’m rocking my hips in time with him, but mostly I’m observing.
Processing.
She fists his hair and starts actively fucking back against him, her toes flexing against my thighsas she does. Then she pulls his face against the side of her neck, those plum-coated lips right next to his ear now.
But her gaze is focused on me. “Who loves you, sweetheart?”
“Ma’am loves me.” He sounds like he’s dropped into subspace.
She nips his ear and I feel something new deep inside me roll over and awaken.
“Who takes care of her boy?”
“Ma’am takes care of her boy.”
“Who’s my goodboy?”
“I’m Ma’am’s good boy.”
She nips his ear again, her gaze challenging me to defy her.
I grab his hips, assume control, and take a long, languid stroke into him, forcing him to slow down and move withmyrhythm, not his, and not hers.
