I shake my head and press my hand to his chest.
“Sit.”
His eyes flare, and he kicks his pants the rest of the way off before sinking back onto the stone bench.Declan spreads his legs wide. His cock juts up between us—thick and hard and absolutely fucking perfect.
I climb into his lap, and his hands lock onto my hips, fingers bruising, desperate. I reach between us and wrap my fingers around him, slower this time, savoring the way he twitches in my grip.
“Fuck,” he hisses between clenched teeth.
I drag the head of his cock back and forth through the mess between my thighs, teasing us both. The swollen tip bumps my clit, and I jolt, a gasp tearing from my lips.
“Goddamn, Amanda,” he growls, jerking up into my fist, barely holding himself back.
I rock forward, slow and merciless, taking the tip. Enough to tease, to burn.
His head snaps back, teeth clenched like he’s fighting for his last shred of control. “You’re gonna kill me.”
I lean in, brushing my lips against the shell of his ear, letting my teeth graze the curve of it. “For the man who always does what he’s told, who’s always in control, you sound a little wrecked.”
He grabs my jaw, and his thumb slides along my lower lip, dragging down until my mouth parts for him.
“You think I’m wrecked now?” His voice is molten, blazing, scorching. “Sit all the way down, baby.Break me.”
So I do.
I tilt my hips and sink down on his cock.
Every thick, perfect inch stretches me open, heat flooding between my thighs, flames racing up my spine in a wild, uncontainable blaze. My mouth falls open, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a plea as I take him fully. My head drops back, a moan finallytearing loose from my throat. The stretch is obscene. Perfect. Too much and still not enough.
“Fuck—Amanda—” His voice breaks around my name as his fingers bite into my hips.
I rock in slow, grinding circles, rolling my hips, watching him unravel one thrust, one unhurried grind at a time. His eyes flutter shut, his jaw tight.
But I want him here. With me.
I reach up, both hands cradling his face. “Look at me.”
His eyes open, and his gaze is bare, defenseless, all storm and surrender, firelight flickering in those coal-dark pools.
His hand lifts, brushing the hair from my cheek with a tenderness that slices something open in my chest. I whimper as his thumb drags slow across my skin like he’s memorizing the shape of this moment.
“I’ve never wanted anything like I want you,” he says, voice splintering. He pulls me down until our foreheads press together, breath mingling. “You make everything beautiful, colorful. You make me want to live.”
His words shatter the cocoon around my heart—the part of me that believed I had to earn love. Perform for it. Be perfect for it. My body trembles, clenches around him, tears blurring my vision even as I ride the edge of something I’ve never let myself feel before—being wanted without performance. Being chosen for exactly who I am.
My mouth finds his again, and I kiss him like it’s the only proof that any of this is real.
His hips roll up, slow and deep, filling me with that perfect, devastating stretch. I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as the pressure builds. His next thrust is harder—deeper. The moan I let out is ragged, shaking.
Another thrust that slams my ass into his thighs, and my back bows.
My toes curl as he grips my hips and uses them for leverage, dragging me down to meet every merciless stroke.
I can’t think. Can’t breathe. The world narrows to the stretch, the slick drag of him inside me, the filthy sound of skin on skin echoing off the stone as he fucks up into me.
He grunts out a curse, sweat beading along his brow as I brace my hands on his chest and start to move like I mean it—like right here, on his cock, is how I break myself apart and rebuild into someone new. My thighs burn, my rhythm turns frantic. Every time I slam down, his dick hits a spot that makes my vision blur.
“You feel me right here?” He presses a hand to my stomach, just below my navel.
