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He slides up to kiss me, his mouth wet with my arousal. “You like that, don’t you?”
I nod weakly.
“Tell me,” he demands. “I know what you need now. You just have to tell me.”
He slides off his belt as he speaks, shucking his pants. He removes his boxer briefs, freeing his hard-on, and I shiver in anticipation at the sight of it.
“I need…. I need your cock. I need you inside me.”
“That’s my good girl.”
He unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders, and leans over me, a possessive gleam in his eyes.
His cock twitches as it slides against the wet heat of my core. He guides himself to my entrance and presses in slowly with a groan. I writhe in pleasure at the sensation of stretching. Declan lowers himself onto his elbows, his body pressed close to mine.
At first, his thrusts are slow, almost gentle. Then he picks up the pace. His grip tightens on my side, and I wrap an arm around his torso to ground myself. My nails dig into the hard muscles on his back.
“Do you like that?” he grunts as he pounds into me.
I’m barely able to respond. I can only cry out his name. “Oh my god… Declan…!”
There’s a pause in his rhythm, and I realize my mistake. He stares down at me, and I look up at him guiltily.
We were supposed to be in our roles from that first night, and caught up in the pleasure, I completely forgot.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
But there’s a new intensity in his dark eyes. “Don’t apologize,” he growls. I gasp as his cock pulses against my walls. “Keep saying it. I like it. Fuck, it’s so much better hearing my real name on your lips. That’s all I wanted the first night we met.”
He begins to thrust into me again, and I gasp, “Declan—”
“Again. Don’t stop.”
I wail his name several times, the pitch of my voice steadily increasing, until I can’t take it anymore. I come, tight on his cock, and he groans as I find my release.
“Yes, Sophie. Fuck.”
Through the haze, I can see what he meant. It’s better with our real names. Hearing my name in his voice… as fun as the fantasy is, that’s how it’s supposed to be.
It was always Sophie and Declan, not Sara and Dominic.
At the tail end of my orgasm, Declan lets himself come too. He fills me, his release hot and slick, then pulls out, panting.
We lie there together, dazed. After a minute or so, I sit upright and shrug my way out of the dress, exposing my breasts. Declan reaches for me, holding me close to his body and absent-mindedly fondling my chest.
We hold each other, naked, for a long time, just enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies. I lean against Declan’s chest, pressing my lips against his shoulder.
After a while, he pulls away from me slightly. He looks at me, his eyes surprisingly soft—a sharp change from the hard expression he had while we had sex.
“You okay?” I ask, almost worried.
“Of course,” he replies. He reaches up to stroke my cheek. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Will you marry me, Spitfire?”
For a few seconds, all I can register is shock. It’s not out of nowhere, but for some reason, it blindsides me.
