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“You tell me.” I feel his hand on my thigh, firm, insistent. He reaches the hem of my coat and slips his hand beneath it, his fingers like sparks on my skin.
“I think….” I pause, holding his gaze. He waits. “I think I need you.”
He moves his hand higher up my thigh, until he finds the skirt of the dress—if you could even call it a skirt. I resist the urge to gasp, painfully aware of the other patrons of the bistro.
Declan could’ve rented the space out. He could’ve made sure it was totally empty, just the two of us and the bartender. But we wanted to recreate that night from start to finish, and the potential spectators were an important part of the evening.
How else could I feel that rush from the risk of being caught?
Declan’s fingers slip beneath my dress. He feels his way to my panties, his jaw tightening as he feels how wet I am already. I would be self-conscious, but I can see the evidence of his own desire for myself—the outline of the bulge in his pants.
“Fuck me, Dominic,” I whisper to him.
“Of course, Sara,” he replies. His probing finger slides between my folds, and the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk as he realizes just how wet I am.
I bite down hard to stop myself from making a sound as he makes his way to my clit.
“Careful,” he warns, grinning. “You have to be quiet here, or all of these nice people will know exactly what’s going on.”
“Maybe we should go then,” I whisper between hot, panting breaths. “ So that I can stop being quiet.”
There’s a gleam of agreement in his eyes. He nods to the bartender, who rings up his tab. Then he whisks me out of the bistro as quickly as he can manage, straight into the waiting car.
Declan takes me to the same hotel that I remember from our first night together. He carries me inside the large penthouse, past multiple, shadowy rooms that I ignore. I don’t have time to take in my surroundings.
I cling to him, gasping for breath, eager for what’s about to happen next.
Declan sits me on the edge of the bed and slowly slides the jacket from my shoulders, baring my collarbones and the low, risqué neckline of the tight-fitting dress.
“You’re stunning, Sara,” he breathes, his voice hot with unfiltered desire as he leans over to kiss my neck. “I’m shocked nobody else managed to get to you first tonight. But it’s a good thing no man in that bar tried to touch you, or I would’ve killed him.”
A breathy laugh bubbles up before I can stop it, my stomach fluttering at his words. “So possessive over a woman you’ve just met.”
He draws back, his eyes burning with intensity as he drops the facade for a moment. “Maybe that’s because I know I’ve met my soulmate.”
I moan, pulling him in for another kiss as my hands slide through his hair. When we break apart, we’re both breathing harder.
“Fuck me, Dominic,” I whisper. “Don’t make me wait.”
“Oh, Spitfire. I’ll never make you wait.”
He growls low in his throat, tossing the jacket across the room before laying me down on the bed, his fingers trailing over my bare legs. The dress is barely there, and I feel his breath on my inner thighs as he nips and kisses his way up.
Then he folds the hem of the dress up over my hips, brushing his fingertips over my panties. They’re black lace, meant to match the dress—I don’t think I put that much thought into my outfit the first time around, but this time, I was actually looking forward to something while I got dressed.
He smirks at the sight of them, knowing exactly what they mean. “Were you hoping that this might happen?”
I shake my head, all but whimpering as I wait for him to touch me again. “I’m as surprised as you are, Dominic.”
He plunges back down, his teeth tugging at the lace before he slides my panties off. He teases me for a moment, his fingers gentle near my clit, before he goes to work with his tongue.
As soon as I feel him dip into my folds, my back arches off the bed and I cry out in ecstasy. We’re not around strangers anymore—I don’t have to be quiet.
He pauses, coming up for air. His fingers replace his tongue as he says, “That’s it. Tell me all about it. Get loud for me.”
He returns to eating me out. I reach down to twine my fingers into his hair, anchoring myself. If he weren’t there to hold me in place, his hands firmly on my hips, I think I’d fall out of this bed.
Declan fucks me with his tongue, the pads of his thumb and forefinger expertly teasing my clit. It’s not long before I come, tingling waves numbing my limbs. I clutch his hair like I’m trying not to get swept away in a storm.
