Declan continues to pump and squeeze his cock over and over again, letting out a mix of curses, groans, and pants of my name. Any rational part of my brain is long gone, and in its place is the strong need that consumed me on our wedding night. I leave my laptop on the center of the bed and prop myself up against the headboard, pulling my travel vibrator out of the suitcase.
“I bet you’re soaking wet right now, aren’t you? Your pussy is waiting to be filled by me, isn’t it, Zahra?”
Though he can’t see me, I nod vehemently, turning the vibrator on and placing it on my clit, moaning at the content.
“Ah, ah, ah. Did I give you permission to touch yourself yet? You haven’t earned that right yet, love.” He clicks his tongue and I begrudgingly move the vibe off me. For a moment, I swear he must know I’m watching. Except I have no doubt in my mind that if he knew I was just a few rooms away, equally as turned on as he is, he’d immediately barge in and make a whimpering mess of me. A chill runs down my body as I realize how well he knows my body. How even though he’s fantasizing about me giving him a blow job, he knows in real life I’d be so turned on I’d be touching myself.
“Don’t pout, Zahra. You know I’ll always give you what you want. Now spread those legs of yours and use two of your fingers to play with your pussy the way I did the night of our wedding.” He lets out a wicked laugh, followed by a groan as he continues to work his cock in his hands. From the pace of his breathing, I can tell he’s getting closer and closer to coming and that thought has me bucking my hips for more.
I adjust my vibe to the perfect setting and place it on my clit while using my other hand to slide two fingers inside me. To my utter shock, my legs are already starting to shake as my orgasm builds. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to come this fast but I wanted nothing more than to fall over the edge with Declan.
“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Fucking herself while she lets her husband fuck her mouth. You're mine, Zahra. All. Fucking. Mine,” he growls, giving himself one final squeeze before rope after rope of come shoots out of his cock. “Swallow it all, love. I know you can handle it.” Declan moans, and the noise sends me into my own orgasm, and a wave of pleasure hits me over and over again.
I bite down on the closest pillow in a feeble attempt to dampen the loud screams of pleasure coming from me. We both lay still, panting in complete ecstasy for a few minutes,until, much to my disappointment, he tucks his cock back into his pants and leaves his office.
Slamming my laptop shut, I know two things for certain. The first was that Declan still wants me. The second is that, as much as he may want me, I can’t let myself give in to him. Mixing love with the harsh reality of running a mafia would be a foolish decision. Falling for Declan is an unnecessary additional complication—no matter how much of a challenge it may be to deny him. I needed to keep my wits about me, especially now that I’m in his orbit, constantly being tempted by the pull between us.
30
DECLAN
Most mobsters fall into one of two categories—either not being religious because they view themselves as God, or somehow still being able to believe in a divine power, despite knowing that said divine power exists, they’re going straight to hell. The Irish fall into the latter, which is why my mom always prayed for us before she went to bed, and dragged our asses to Mass at least twice a month. Evidently, I should’ve gone more as a child because I was now living in my own personal hell.
Being so close to Zahra but not being able to claim her as my own is driving me fucking crazy. The amount of times I’ve found myself jacking off to the thought of her is beyond embarrassing. Even teenage Declan would think I needed to get a grip, and that's saying something. It doesn’t help that she manages to consume the whole house, in the best way possible.
The scent of her perfume fills nearly every room, and her adorable fluff ball of a cat has taken a liking to me, dropping its toys in front of my room. Best of all, her normal prim andproper attire has been replaced by loungewear that hugs every inch of her curves and makes me want nothing more but to bury my head into her plump breasts.
“Whatever you’re making, it smells absolutely divine,” she groans, settling into the barstool next to the island in the kitchen.
“Just a classic Irish breakfast. Should be ready soon.” I smile, handing her a mug filled with black coffee while I prep mine, adding a hint of cream and five scoops of sugar. “Surprised you’re not making comments about how it’s offensive to call this sugary monstrosity a coffee?”
Her lips twinge up. “You said it, not me. So long as you’re aware.”
I roll my eyes and turn off the stove and loading her plate with pork sausage, bacon, eggs, mushrooms, hash browns, and sourdough.
“This is your regular breakfast? No wonder you’re so large. You have the appetite of a bear.” She snickers, diving in.
“My breakfast comes with a side of beans, and white and black pudding, but I made sure to leave those off your plate, given I know you Americans find that offensive.” I take a seat next to her, feeling a rush of electricity run down my spine as our legs brush against each other. “Plus, you have a martial arts session with Arman in a few hours. The extra protein will give you an energy boost.”
How I’d come to memorize her schedule is beyond me, but somehow it seemed my brain was only aware of two different timelines: moments where I was able to spend time with Zahra, and moments where I waited until it was finally time to be with Zahra.
“Yeah, well, I’m going to need more than a session to burn all this off.” Her light tone has a slight edge as she winks at me and pokes a finger at her softstomach.
The slight dig at her body sends a rush of anger through me. “What are you talking about?”
She waves me off. “Not all of us have the gift of a fast metabolism, or the ability to eat whatever we want and still have washboard abs?—”
Without thinking, I cup her jaw in my palm so she’s looking right at me. “You don’t need to change a damn thing about your body. It’s fucking incredible.” I nearly growl at the thought of her thinking differently.
Zahra’s pupils dilate as she leans into my touch, and she swallows hard. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was fishing for a compliment?—”
On instinct, my thumb traces her bottom lip, followed by her jaw. “I know you weren’t. But in case I haven’t made myself clear, every inch of your body isperfection.”
I don’t voice the rest of the thoughts in my head. How I want nothing more than to punish her for even thinking for a second that there was anything wrong with her body. I want nothing more than to strip her bare in this kitchen and show her just how much I’ve been dying to get my hands on her lush ass and thighs. I’d spread her on this table, and use my tongue, fingers, and cock to bring her to the edge, over and over again, until she was nothing but a writhing mess begging me to let her come. I’d deny her at first until she realizes how utterly stunning she is, and how she has me so tightly wrapped around her finger.
My hardening cock brings me back to the present, forcing me to readjust myself in my chair. Fuck. I hope she doesn’t notice.
Mercifully, her eyes are still trained on my face. “Thank you. Sorry for my little insecure moment.”
