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“Just like I remember,” he almost muses. “So fucking sexy.”
My jeans and panties join the puddle of my clothes on the floor, and I realize how ridiculous it was to worry about what to wear when all Declan would do is take it off me.
“Tell me how this feels,” he demands, cupping me between my legs with his hand before slowly stroking me. I’m too hot to care about being so wet already. “Say it, Spitfire. Let me hear you.”
“Like a dream,” I gasp out, my breath hitching as his thumb teases my most sensitive spot. “I’ve wanted… I want…”
Careful. I have to be careful. I want to stay in this moment. There’s nowhere else to be. No point dwelling on or marveling over the past. All that matters is right here. Right now.
I reach for him, groping blindly behind my body. If I’m here, and he’s here, then I’m going to satisfy myself. I want to feel the steel of his muscles. I want his clothes on the floor, same as mine.
But he captures my hands before I can even brush against his T-shirt. He squeezes them briefly before pressing me more firmly against the window again, and I gasp at the coldness of the glass against the heat of my body. I’m on fire, and the juxtaposition of temperatures makes goosebumps prickle my skin.
“Brace yourself, Spitfire,” he growls. “Because I can’t be gentle right now. Fuck. It’s been too long. Too damn long since I felt this perfect body beneath my palms. I feel like I’m going crazy. I need to be inside you yesterday.”
He drags my hands upward until they’re above my head, my palms pressed against the window. I rest my forehead against the cold surface, my breath fogging up the glass, looking sightlessly at the city around us.
We’re putting on a show, if anyone should care to watch, and that causes me to shudder darkly. Am I actually into that kind of thing?
“What if someone sees?” I ask in a small voice, not completely trusting it to work properly.
Declan laughs lowly. “Then they’re going to be very jealous. Because you’re mine.”
Chapter 24
Sophie
You’re mine.
Declan’s words end on a growl, and I swear I almost come on the spot. That possessiveness is back—I remember it well from our first time together in that hotel penthouse. And just like that time, I lean in. Or rather, lean back. I press my ass backward, trying to get a little friction out of Declan. I want to give our unknown watchers something to be jealous of. I need this, just like he does.
He grinds against me, trailing his hands down my sides, nuzzling against my neck, and I feel the effect I have on him. His hard-on pressed against my hip. It’s gratifying, somehow, knowing that this is all me. And all for me.
“Want you,” I say in such a breathy voice that I’m surprised it registers with him. But he bucks against me, and I hiss when my breasts press fully against the glass. It’s cold, and I’m thinking again about what people might see.
What I want them to see.
“You’re going to have all you can take,” Declan promises me, the zip of his pants punctuating his words. “You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk? You want it hard like last time?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
All I can do is breathe, trying to control the pounding of my heart, as I listen to the rip of the condom wrapper. The soft snap of the latex against him. His breathing, just as harsh as mine.
I can’t resist a shiver when his knee nudges my thighs apart. This is how we’re going to do it, then. Standing up, me pressed against this window, spread and bare for all the world to see.
He guides himself to me, and I moan, trying to accommodate him. He’s so big. Right on the edge of too big. But then he reaches around me, his fingers finding my clit.
“Open up for me, baby,” he breathes. “You know you can do it. Your body remembers. This pussy remembers my cock, doesn’t it?”
“Yesss,” I repeat, the word turning into a hiss of pleasure as he pinches my clit and slides in deeper.
“So fucking tight,” he says. “Better than I remembered. So. Damn. Perfect.”
He grunts as I whimper, taking inch by solid inch of him. Any other man would just slam up and in, but not Declan. He has to work his way in—for both our sakes. It’s irresistible and inevitable, and when he’s finally fully sheathed, all we can do is stand there and breathe together. If he hadn’t pushed me up against the window, I don’t think I would be able to stay standing. I’m trembling—every limb, every joint, every muscle—and he’s the only thing keeping me upright.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “You feel incredible, Spitfire. So fucking wet—fucking hot—for me.”
I can’t think straight, and any last vestiges of thought I have vanish as he pumps once against me, still fully inside me, with his fingers still against my clit. I’m seeing stars and we’ve only just started, my fingers scrabbling against the glass.
