“Yes.”
The idea of him holding back with me snapped something hot through my stomach.
“Please,” I said again, quieter this time.
He didn’t answer right away.
When he did, his voice was rough. “Take your hand away from your ass. Both hands on your cock.”
I obeyed, almost whining at the loss and the sudden intensity when both hands wrapped around me.
“Now,” he said. “Come for me.”
I came hard, hips lifting off the mattress, both hands working my cock as pleasure tore through me. I tried to stay quiet and failed, a broken sound leaving my mouth while heat spilled overmy fingers and stomach. My vision went blank behind my closed eyes. For a few seconds there was nothing but my body and his voice, low and steady, talking me through it without dressing it up.
“That’s it. Breathe. Don’t tighten up. Let it finish.”
On the other end, his control finally slipped. I heard the shift in his breathing, the rough pull of air, then his low groan as he came. He didn’t say my name like a performance. He exhaled it like it had been pressed out of him.
That did more damage than anything explicit.
After, the room felt too quiet.
I lay there sticky and stunned, one arm flung over my eyes.
Declan’s breathing evened slowly through the speaker.
“You with me?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Color?”
“Green.” I cleared my throat. “Sleepy green.”
“Clean up.”
I made a noise of protest.
“Jace.”
“I know.”
I dragged myself out of bed, grabbed tissues, cleaned my stomach and hands, then washed properly in the bathroombecause I could feel him judging me through the phone. When I came back, he was still there.
That did something stupid to my chest.
“Back,” I said.
“Water.”
I drank from the glass on my nightstand.
“Under the blankets.”
I got in.
“Phone stays where it is.”
