This time he did smile, small and dangerous. Then his hips lowered.
Our cocks lined up through fabric, and I arched off the bed.
The friction punched a sound out of me. Sweatpants, dress pants, briefs, too many layers and still not enough to dull it. Declan’s mouth went to my neck while he rolled against me,slow, controlled pressure that made my hands shake. I tried to thrust up harder.
He pinned my hip with his other hand.
“No.”
I groaned. “Declan.”
“You’re going to take what I give you.”
My whole body reacted to that, heat and frustration and relief tangling until I couldn’t separate them. He kept the rhythm steady, grinding down in slow strokes, his cock hard against mine through the barrier of clothes. It was obscene how intimate it felt. Not enough skin. Too much want.
“Please,” I said, and I didn’t know what I was asking for until the word was out.
Declan lifted his head. “Hands at your sides.”
I obeyed, fists curling in the sheets.
He sat back just enough to unbutton my pants.
My hips jerked.
“Still.”
I froze, badly. My muscles trembled with the effort. He noticed but didn’t mock me. He opened my pants and slid the zipper down, then paused.
“Color.”
“Green.”
He reached inside and wrapped his hand around me.
I almost came right there.
His grip was firm, warm, exactly enough pressure to make my vision blur. He stroked once, base to head, slow enough to be cruel. I choked on his name. My hands fisted harder in the comforter.
“That’s it,” he said, voice rougher now. “Let your body answer before your mouth tries to get clever.”
I laughed once, broken and breathless, then lost it when he stroked me again.
He watched my face while he touched me. That should have made me self-conscious. It didn’t. It pinned me more effectively than his hands ever could. I had nowhere to hide from the pleasure, nowhere to stash it under a joke or a bad attitude.
My cock slid through his fist, wet at the head now, his thumb dragging through it and circling in a way that made my thighs tense.
“Declan.”
“I’ve got you.”
Not a line. Not dramatic. Just a fact.
It wrecked me.
I reached for him before remembering I’d been told not to move. My hand stopped halfway.
His gaze dropped to it.
