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He shakes his head. “No. Not yet.”
He slips inside me again. My toes curl in my shoes.
“We’re almost there,” he continues. “You can wait just a bit longer. If I have to wait, so do you.”
His building turns out to be three blocks away, and every second of the drive is somewhere between agony and pure bliss. He alternates between fingering me and slowly teasing my clit. He brings me right to the edge of orgasm and keeps me there.
By the time we pull into the underground parking garage, I’m soaking wet and my knees are shaking. All thoughts of David are gone from my mind. I may have felt bad outside the restaurant, but now, with Declan’s capable hand beneath my dress, all I want—all I need—is him.
Declan stops the car, motioning to me to stay where I am. He steps out, slams his door, and crosses to my side. He picks me out of my seat, kissing me firmly. As I swing my legs around his waist, I can feel the hard thickness of his cock against my center.
“Hurry,” I gasp out, not caring how desperate I sound.
“God, I fucking love how greedy you are.”
I’m barely aware of the elevator ride up to his condo, and the second we’re inside and the door is closed behind us, the tension snaps.
He whirls me around, pressing me up against the door. I cling to his shoulders as he hikes up my dress, his fingers rougher, his touches harder.
And my body responds to all of it. I can feel the heat between my legs, almost as warm as his panting breaths against the side of my neck. His kisses, along my jaw and down to my collarbone, turn into bites.
“You taste so fucking good. I can’t get enough of you,” he mutters gruffly. “Believe me, Spitfire. I’ve tried. It’s not fucking possible.”
He sucks my skin hard enough to leave marks. The pain only heightens my pleasure. I know I’m being loud, but I can’t help it; I can only hope we’re alone on this floor tonight.
Declan certainly doesn’t seem worried about the noise. He doesn’t even bother to undress himself, or to remove my dress. He just yanks my panties off and pulls the skirt over my hips.
He loses his belt and fumbles his wallet from his back pocket. He fishes out the condom and tears it open with his teeth, his eyes never leaving mine. His grip is tight on my waist—tight enough to bruise, even, which only turns me on even more. It’s like he’s doing everything in his power to keep me here.
Then he lifts me up, holding my legs as they wrap around his waist. I feel the tip of his cock brush my entrance, and practically melt again.
“Please, Declan. Fuck, please. Please.”
I’m openly begging now. It’s undignified, but I can’t help it. After the agonizing wait of the drive here, all I want is him. I can’t wait any longer.
Luckily, my words only seem to make him more feral, and he doesn’t make me beg for long. He rubs his cock between my folds and against my clit twice, wrapping one hand loosely around my throat as he braces my back against the door.
“Gonna fuck you until you forget every second of your so-called date with that fucker,” he growls. “Until all you can think about is me. Us. What we have together. Breathe deep for me, Spitfire. I’ll try to go slow, but fuck, I need to get inside you.”
The intense stretch of his cock is always a lot to handle, but I’ve gotten better at taking him. At least I know what to expect now, and I open up to him without even thinking about it as his cock head nudges at my entrance. Despite his fingers digging into my thigh and my senses working overtime, I’m relaxed in his grip. He demands entrance, and it’s easy to oblige.
“So. Fucking. Good,” he grits out, breathing hard.
Even though I can tell he’s hanging on by a thread of self-control, he still gives me a few shallow pumps to adjust to his size as he slides into me. There’s a precision to everything this man does, and he’s made an art out of fucking me.
I close my eyes, letting myself be overwhelmed by him—by his size. By the feeling of fullness as my body wraps around him like a glove. I buck my hips toward him, trying to help him get deeper on the next thrust.
“There you go,” he praises, releasing my throat and delving his hand into my hair. “Just like that. Such a good fucking girl.”
It’s so much easier to stay in the moment now than it has been any other time I’ve been with him. Now, this moment is truly all that matters.
We’re in his penthouse, not the apartment that he bought to hide us away. Everything is out in the open.
“Fuck,” he whispers when he’s finally fully sheathed inside me, his voice softer than I expected. “I forgot how good you feel. I missed you so damn much, Spitfire. Every-fucking-thing about you.”
Then the forcefulness returns, and he’s moving inside me like the rush of a current. It’s hot and passionate, and it’s all I can do to keep up. I cling to his shoulders, my legs wrapped around his waist as his thrusts drive me against the door.
Maybe it’s because I was already so close in the car, or maybe it’s because my body is hardwired to respond to him by this point, but I’m already on the brink of coming. I look up at him, ready to beg for him to give me what I need, but I don’t need to. The second my gaze reaches his stone-gray eyes, I can see the intensity swirling there. I don’t need to beg anymore. He’s solely focused on getting me there.
