“I’d never do that!”
“I didn’t know that. And I’m not sure your da doesn’t want to slap me around, Dec.”
“Just let him fucking try,” I ground out, my fists bunching at the thought. “I’ll fucking kill him before I let him take a step toward you in violence.”
Her lips curved into a tiny smile. “My hero.”
Surprisingly, there was no mockery in her tone.
And it warmed me.
She meant it.
Fuck, it had been a long time since I’d been anyone’s hero, and even then, it had been her. Before I’d turned into the villain, before she’d run off and I’d had no choice but to let her flitter away.
She cleared her throat as our eyes caught and held. “I had plans in motion,” she repeated. “I knew I might have to get out. And today, everything inside me was screaming danger, danger, that I needed to take Seamus away from this insane life, but the thought of not being with you, Dec, it hurts just as bad as it did when I was a kid.
“I don’t want that. I want you. I want this. Us.”
My throat felt too thick when I swallowed. “I want that too. You and me. I want that.”
She leaned up on her elbow. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Declan. Even when I ran, I never stopped wanting you.”
“Then why did you go?”
“Because you looked at me like you hated me, and—” She blew out a breath. “You looked at me like Dad looks at Mom.”
My brows shot up. Whatever I’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. “Your dad hates your mom?”
She shrugged. “He’s never there. She’s always alone, high on fucking antidepressants or whatever the crap it is she’s taking now. He never kisses her, always treats her like crap. She’s like his slave. I don’t like it, but what can I do? She won’t leave him. I asked her to come with me to Ireland,” she explained softly, “but she wouldn’t.”
“It sounds like he’s just old-fashioned,” I replied sympathetically. “You know what the old guard are like.”
“Dicks?” she grumbled, making me laugh.
“Yeah, dicks.”
But she shook her head. “I know why he hates her.”
“Why?” I asked softly, moving over to her.
It was still fucking hard getting onto the bed, and I felt like I was about ninety, but I managed to do it without plopping down and looking like a fool.
This was the first time she was talking to me about the shit that mattered without me raising the subject. The first time we were in bed together where my dick could get hard without my balls turning blue.
This was relationship stuff.
Not just sex.
More.
Just… more.
She watched me, and I loved that she didn’t offer to help, just wished she’d look away in case I had to bellyflop onto the sheets… thank fuck I didn’t have to.
“My birthday is six months after their wedding anniversary.”
I tensed. “Oh.”
She bit her lip. “Yeah. So, you know what that means, don’t you?”
“She either trapped him, or it was accidental, and he still feels trapped.”
“Yeah.”
“But you didn’t trap me. I remember the day the condom broke like it was yesterday, babe. I would have never blamed you—”
“All I thought was that you hated me, Dec. I thought things had changed because of Deirdre. You’d always been weird with her, and when she died, and it all went south, I just thought you felt guilty and blamed me.
“If I’d told you the truth, what would have happened? I’d have been stuck in a marriage like Mom’s. I’d have been tied to you even though you loathed and hated me. Resented me for trapping you, resented me for being the one who was alive when Deirdre was dead.”
“You had to know I fucking hated her,” I rasped. “She never managed to figure it the fuck out, the dumb bitch, but you weren’t her. I felt your eyes on us whenever she touched me.”
Pain flashed over her features, pain I regretted causing. Not just then but now. “It seemed that way, but you never left her, did you?” she whispered. “You never made a move to dump her, and you kept me on as your side piece. I know why now, but you never told me back then, and I never expected you to. You’re an O’Donnelly. I’m an O’Neill. Never the two shall meet and all that crap. What I was getting from you was more than I’d ever thought I could get. At least this way, I had your baby too.”
The words weren’t ones I’d expected to ever hear from Aela’s lips.
“You wanted my kid?” I rumbled, the words low, husky.
She tilted her head and met my eyes. “I did.” She licked her lips. “I do.”
For whatever fucking reason, my body loved the idea of that more than I could say. My dick pinged to life, and I knew she had to see it through the towel. I felt like I had the leaning tower of goddamn Pisa down there.
Her eyes drifted down my body, and when they stopped at my dick, and her breath hitched, I groaned.
She cut me a look, and whispered, “That for me?”
“Always been for you,” I murmured. “Always.”
A groan escaped her and her hand went to my waist even as she was moving forward, rolling onto me so she was straddling my calves—the position had my heart speeding up, especially when her hands went to work on the knot, and when she parted the towel and lowered it down, I nearly fucking cried.
Jesus fuck.
It had been too goddamn long since I’d felt her mouth on me, and the sweet perfection of it had my hips bucking. She tongued the tip, smoothing it around the glans before shaping me with her open mouth, rimming her soft lips up and down the column of my shaft. Her tongue fluttered along the vein down the back, and when she reached the base and hummed, I groaned again when she moved up and began to suck me down.
There was no artifice here. No intent to do anything other than taste me. For her enjoyment.
She hummed and mumbled as I bucked my hips, but she did it for herself, and somehow that made it even sexier.
When she pulled back, her lips were glossy with saliva, and I groaned at the sight before I watched her purse them and spit dribbled down to coat the tip. I gritted my teeth as she followed the trail, sucking on me like I was a lollipop and she was intent on getting to the bubblegum beneath.
I watched her work, getting off on seeing her intensity, and then she spiced things up a notch by pulling her skirt up and slipping her hand beneath it.
Fuck.
I loved that she got off on this shit. I remembered from before that whenever she went down on me, she’d usually end up fingering herself, which though vanilla as fuck, had to be the hottest shit I’d ever seen, and trust me, when you were an O’Donnelly, most women went above and beyond to stay in our beds.
I’d had all kinds of shit pulled, from kinky to weird, all in an effort to be memorable, and while it had worked, to a certain extent, nothing stuck with me like this.
It was… natural. Because it was Aela.
She didn’t have to pull out a black rubber dildo that had to be bigger than the Hulk’s cock, slide it in her asshole, and then fuck me with it in for it to stick out in my mind.
Nope, she just had to finger herself while she was sucking me because she wanted to suck me.
Not to impress me. Not to get me hot.
For herself.
I fucking loved that.
Fuck.
I clenched my eyes closed, grunting as she moaned around my dick as her fingers worked their magic on her, and even though I’d been content to let her suck me, to own it, I couldn’t just lie there anymore.
I had to get involved.
Grabbing her hair, I rolled it around my wrist and used it to tilt her head back. She pouted but obeyed, then rasped, “You got a problem?”
“Yeah. Show me your fingers.” She bit her lip but obeyed, pulling out her slick digits from under her skirt. “Coat my cock in it,” I ordered, watching her wit
h narrowed eyes until she followed my order. As she twirled the tips around my cock, I raised my chin. “Taste it. Just where you touched.”
She stuck her tongue out and moved it around in the same pattern as she’d stroked her fingers, and I groaned before I tilted her head back again, and muttered, “Show me your cunt.”
A mumble escaped her a scant breath before she ignored my command and sucked me down. From tip to goddamn root.
Well, fuck.
How was I supposed to grumble at that when it felt like fucking heaven?
Arching my hips, I shoved my dick as far into her as I could, loving when she groaned. I just knew her pussy would be even wetter, and as much as I wanted her to carry on sucking me, I wanted inside that little cunt more than I knew how to handle.
Hissing when she swallowed me down, sucking and choking me with the tight clasp, I grabbed her hair and whispered, “You asking for that ass of yours to be spanked?”
Her head bobbed down, and my eyes felt like they were rolling back in my head.
My threat of punishments was only getting her wetter, and that wetness was nowhere near where I needed it.
Fuck. Talk about a Catch-22.
Deciding that she was going to do what she was going to do, and apparently I didn’t have a goddamn say in it, this time, I sank back against the sheets and watched her. But it didn’t sit well with me.
I’d watched a lap dancer.
I’d observed an old mistress doing this shit, uncaring if she got hers, not even really touching her after she got me off.
Aela was not those women.
She was mine.
Had been since I’d claimed that cunt as my own.
Because I needed her to know that, I growled, “That little cunt sopping wet for me?”
She swallowed.
“I bet it is. Bet it’s so fucking wet, it’s drenching your skirt.”
She moaned.
“Bet it’s so goddamn empty, just waiting for this cock to fill it.”
She sighed.
“Why don’t you show me it, baby? Huh?” I thrust my hips up. “Why don’t you show me that glorious little pussy that’s always been mine?”
That had her slowing down, and when she peered at me under her lashes, I knew she liked that.
Fuck, I knew she liked everything I had to say, but that one in particular…
“Show me what belongs to me,” I ordered, and like I’d told a genie my wish, she obeyed.
She sat up on her knees and slowly lifted her skirt, raising it higher and higher, revealing her thick thighs and a pussy with that landing strip my dick was just ready to come on.
“Spread your thighs so I can see.”
Once more, she did as she was told. But she was watchful, taking me in, observing and listening as her tits strained against the confines of the vest with every shaky breath she sucked in and out.
I looked at that juicy pussy, the glorious slickness that made my mouth water, that I’d tasted several times since she’d come back to me, but I’d never get sick of looking at it, fucking it, sucking on it.
I growled under my breath at the thought and, grabbing my dick, demanded, “Come over here, princess. I need to fill you all the way up.”
Though she gulped, she drifted forward on her knees, not making a move to strip. I wanted her like this for our first time. Not skin to skin, but with me naked, bare, and her covered. I wanted her to feel the power exchange here.
She could be fully dressed or bare-assed naked, and I’d still have command over her body.
Because it was mine.
Just like my scarred and fucked up one was hers.
I twisted slightly to stack up some pillows behind me and, once again, my torso protested the move thanks to my recent injuries even though our doc had cleared me for regular activities, but there was no way in hell my mind was focused on anything other than my dick and getting it inside her.
When I sank back, her gaze was glued to my cock, and when she grabbed it, held it firmly in her fist and cocked her leg over me at the same time as she sank down onto it, I hissed as finally, fucking finally, I found my way back home.
Blowing out a breath as she slipped down on me, her features tightening and releasing in a way that told me she hadn’t fucked someone in a long while—a thought that pleased me even if she should never have known any other cock but mine—I waited with bated breath for her to settle on top of my lap.
Each cosseting inch of that delicious cunt surrounded me like wet silk, and the pressure of that vise-like grip was beyond paradise.
I reached out, one hand coming to her hip, the other slipping between her thighs so I could rub her clit. She moaned and I felt the slight give in her cunt as she relaxed some, and when she kind of slumped on me, I figured I’d hit the right spot because her pussy was tighter than ever, but she was a shivering mass of sexy goo on top of me.
Groaning when she bit her lip, her eyes colliding with mine in a way that made me wonder if she could see into my fucking soul, she murmured, “This dick is mine.”
My top lip quirked up in a smirk. “This cunt is mine.”
She dipped her chin. “Just so we know how this shit works.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. “The second I saw you again, it was like time had rewound itself.” I tapped her clit. “Should never have belonged to anyone else.”
That had her gulping, and I knew the words resonated with her because she grunted then rewarded me by sitting up and slowly taking me again. A shuddery breath escaped her before she moaned and started up once more. Her hips began to writhe and wriggle from side to side in looping circles like she was belly dancing, and fuck if it didn’t feel like magic.
As she moved over me like a pro, I rubbed her clit, and her mewls and moans, and the squeezing of those tiny muscles had me barely holding back from busting my nut.
I needed her to get hers first before I blew my wad, and I said that fully aware of what I was doing.
I figured she did too.
No condom.
A part of me hoped she didn’t have an IUD in, but I figured she was too smart not to have one… more’s the pity.
As I slipped my fingers through her juicy folds, I watched as she started to pant. Her cheeks flushed, color blooming over them and along her chest, and suddenly, I realized something.
She was still wearing her Kevlar vest.
The notion blew my brains out.
Unable to stop myself, I let go of her, and though she complained, I grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged it open, uncaring that the buttons pinged to the ground in discontent.
When I shaped my slick fingers over the vest, I eyed it and her tits. They were firmly held in place by the sheath, but they were generous enough that the jiggle was real.
I started working on the straps, wanting to see her tits, but I barely had a minute to enjoy the view or to feel it, because when I flung the vest onto the ground, reached up and cupped the bounty of flesh before squeezing the nipples with my fingertips, she exploded around me.
And she was loud.
Beautifully, gloriously loud.
Her head tipped back as she screamed out her joy, and I was almost disappointed that I owned the whole floor because I’d have liked my neighbors to have heard that.
The sound was enough to take me to the brink.
The way her pussy did the fucking tango around my shaft?
There was no way I was going to be able to hold back.
When I came, I filled her to bursting as I grabbed her hips and ground her down onto me as I used brute strength to urge her into maintaining that pace. She clutched at me and clung, her body taking everything I had to give and more, until there was no delineating line between her and me.
We were just us.
Which made me hiss out her name before I hauled her down against me and hugged her tight to my chest.
This woman was mine.
She belonged to me.
I owned her.
But fuck if she didn’t own me too.
Twenty
Aela
Though I’d bitched about our first fuck not having an audience of three glorious, stolen paintings, I was in a much better mood after I came.
Which was only natural.
And today was the kind of day where you needed the extra help of a bunch of endorphins and hormones, because my kid’s uncle had been shot, my childhood sweetheart had to kill a man and lame another, the Feds had been at the hospital and were sniffing around Declan and Brennan for interviews, which could easily turn into something more if they decided Declan’s offense wasn’t self-defense, and…
Well, yeah.
It had been a long day.
Still, Declan had given me two gifts today—I was coming to see that was his style. Never just one present, but always two. An orgasm because I refused to accept the Kevlar vest as a gift, and a pair of tiny jade earrings, which were so pretty I’d removed a set of my faves and slipped in the small cabochons. Which, knowing Dec and his fetish, had probably belonged to some ancient empress or something.
Fuck, if that didn’t just get me wet again…
After a day like today, however, the last thing I’d anticipated was having Conor show up at six and declare, “I’m hungry.”
I blinked at the sight of his face in the intercom and arched a brow. “So? Go to a restaurant.”
“But I’m here.” He beamed at me. “I brought cannoli.”
“Where the hell did you get cannoli?” Declan demanded, appearing behind me. One hand moved to my shoulder, the other to my waist in a move that was distinctly proprietary, and that had me feeling the heat of him along my back.
It reminded me of earlier, reminded me of how perfect that had been.
Sure, three glorious works of art hadn’t watched me get off, but there was always tonight. And tomorrow.
I sighed at the thought before I tuned in as Conor muttered, “Well, I wanted ‘em.”
“You mean you went onto Famiglia turf for dessert?” Declan queried, his tone suggesting Conor had gone around the bend.
I couldn’t blame him.
Filthy Dark: A SECOND CHANCE/SECRET BABY, MAFIA ROMANCE (THE FIVE POINTS' MOB COLLECTION Book 3) Page 27
