My mouth roams across his stomach, and his fingers coil around my head. “Yes, do that,” he urges.
I do as asked, licking and tasting and groaning.
He groans too with every flick of my tongue.
When I reach his pecs, I speed up, yanking his shirt over his head.
Declan lets it fall to the floor. I stare at his chest, breathless.
I’ve gazed at him countless times. But this is the first time I’ve stared at him when our bodies are about to join.
Our eyes lock.
Screw taking it slow.
Faster now, I unsnap his jeans, push them down, then his boxer briefs. He helps me along, kicking off his shoes and the rest of his clothes.
My skin scorches when his cock says hello.
I curl a fist around his dick, unleashing a carnal groan as I feel his hot, hard length, then as I slide my thumb over that first, delicious drop of liquid arousal. I bring it to my lips, smear it over them, and lick it off.
“Need you now,” he says on a rough shudder, then his hands fly, and he’s grabbing at my shirt, tugging it over my head, yanking at my jeans.
In mere seconds, we’re both down to nothing, and he backs me up to the bed, pushes me down.
I scoot up, eyes on him the whole time. He’s like a tiger hunting his prey.
Hunt me, Declan.
Please.
Have me.
He climbs over me, covers me, and fucks my mouth with his tongue.
Hungry, greedy kisses.
Consuming kisses.
I am sparking everywhere.
My dick is leaking, and my body is aching for him.
I wanted to tease him, toy with him, but holy hell, the feel of his weight on me is extraordinary. I love his strength, I need his strength, and he gives it to me as he moves down my body.
Kissing my tattoos.
Licking the arrow, the mountains, the compass.
Teasing my nipples.
Biting.
Flicking.
Most of all, savoring.
He kisses me like he’s never enjoyed kissing this much. Maybe that’s crazy, but I feel all sorts of crazy tonight. “I have to have you, Grant. I can’t get enough of you. Your skin, your scent, your body,” he says, raising his face as he nears my cock, then buries his nose between my thighs, inhaling me.
I arch up, moaning as his nose travels across my skin, his stubble grazing my dick.
Then, with a wicked arch of his brow, and a naughty flicker in his eyes, he takes my shaft in his mouth.
“Yes,” I grunt, bucking up instantly, pleasure searing my blood. He drags me in deep, sucking hard, then drawing back as he licks a stripe up the underside. I shudder out a breath. “I’m pretty sure you want me to come while you’re inside me, right?”
He moans against my cock, then lets the head fall from his lush lips. “Feisty, aren’t you? And yes, I really fucking do,” he says darkly.
“Then don’t suck me so good right now,” I warn.
He hums around my length, licking the crown. “So hard to stop. You taste so good,” he murmurs as lust tears through me.
I grab his head, my body trembling. “Bet I feel good too. Bet my ass feels great. How about trying that?”
Declan lets go, lifts his face, pushes up on his arms, and prowls, just fucking prowls over me, like an animal. “You are so sexy it’s killing me.”
His arms pin me.
His gaze torches me.
And I don’t want this to end.
I want him to take me like this.
But even though I want to be taken, I also want to show him I can drive him insane with pleasure too.
I slide my hands up his strong arms, curving over his muscles, gripping his biceps. And I flip him to his back.
As I climb over him, he arches an appreciative brow. “Nice move, rookie.”
Then I kiss my way down his body, making him writhe and groan, curse and shudder.
And I memorize each sound, each sigh. I save it for later—for when this ends, for when I need to get off.
Since this is just sex.
Just sex.
Only, that’s a lie, and I know it.
This isn’t just sex.
At least not for me.
It’s so much more.
And I kiss him that way, so he knows in my touch what’s happening in my heart. I want him to feel consumed in every way, like I do.
“Grant,” he rasps out, and my name has never sounded more frantic, more fevered than in his sexy, throaty rumble.
I settle between his thighs, sliding my hands under his legs, yanking him toward my face. Then I draw his cock into my throat. I moan against his shaft, loving the taste of him.
“Yes, you’re so fucking good at that,” he says as I lick and suck and show him how much I want him. After a hot, heady minute, he grabs my face. “Stop. We need to fuck. Now.”
Best. Words. Ever.
I let him go with a loud, wet pop, then I move up his body, kiss his lips, and give him a command. “Then get me ready.”
Declan blows out a long stream of air and reaches for the lube as we shift positions.
I raise my knees, setting my feet on the bed. He drizzles lube on his fingers, strokes me slowly, presses a finger against my hole.
My body twitches with pleasure.
His lips twist into a wicked grin. “Love watching you. Love your reactions,” he says as he pushes in more, playing with my balls with his other hand.
I push down on his hand, asking for more. “Yeah? How do I look?”
“Turned all the fuck on,” he says, as he lets go to add more lube to his fingers.
Then he adds more fingers in me.
And holy hell, it’s intense.
Mind-bending too, as Declan finger fucks me for a long time, opening me up.
After several delirious minutes, I’m panting and moaning.
Ready, so damn ready. Hell, I’ve been ready for him for a long time.
I push up on my elbows, my mouth dry, my body on fire, then I say, “Can I sit on your dick now?”
A slow, wicked grin spreads on his face as he eases out his fingers, grabs my face and hauls me in for a wild kiss that ends quickly as he reaches for a condom.
We shift positions, so I can be on top. “This should be easier for your first time,” he says. “You’re in total control. You set the pace.”
I nod, barely able to respond with words because the sight in front of me is too sexy.
Too erotic.
Too carnal.
Declan Steele covers his long, thick cock with protection, then coats himself in lube, and holds the base of his dick for me.
Holy fuck.
This is happening.
Him and me.
I straddle him, rising up on my knees, gazing down at the filthy sight before me. His gorgeous dick, thick and hard and hungry for me.
I angle forward slightly, press my hands to his abs, and close the distance between our bodies.
“Yessssss,” he grunts as I lower myself just the slightest bit, pressing against his shaft.
He’s hardly in me. And he already looks enrapt in pleasure. It’s a good fucking look, so damn good it helps me breathe.
Helps me relax.
Helps me lower myself onto the tip.
I grunt as he breaches me, pushing past the first ring of muscles.
And it’s tight. Really fucking tight.
And completely strange.
And I don’t know how he’s going to fit in me.
Don’t know at all.
I grit my teeth. Suck in a harsh breath.
“How you doing?” he asks, his voice all gravelly.
I love that he’s looking at me.
Love that he cares.
But I don’t love how I feel.
Not yet.
“I’m good,” I bite out, as I breathe in, out. Then as I drop down more, my breath hitches.
In pain.
&nbs
p; Carefully, he sits up, one hand on my face. “I can stop. We can stop,” he says, so damn concerned that it makes my heart thump harder for him.
Wilder for him.
“Just kiss me,” I beg.
“Anytime,” he says, bringing me closer, kissing my mouth gently.
I barely move. I just sort of hover there in this in-between space where he’s an inch or two in me.
I kind of want to stop because it’s uncomfortably tight, and it hurts, and this isn’t a baseball hurt. This isn’t someone slamming into me at home plate. This isn’t an I can take it because I’m tough hurt.
This is letting a man into my body.
But it’s not just any man.
It’s this man.
The man who looks at me the way I look at him.
Like it’s not just sex for him either.
Not at all.
He lets go of my face and travels his hand down my arm, his touch surprisingly erotic for how soft it is.
A light brush of his fingers—that’s all. But the way he touches me sends a rush of warmth through my body. As I wait to move, his fingertips travel over my stomach, making me feel so damn good. It’s almost that sensation of getting a massage, when you first let go under someone else’s hands, when your body relaxes and sinks into the feel-good moment.
“Say the word, rookie,” he whispers against my lips. “I’ll stop anytime for you.” Then, a few seconds later, he adds in an even softer voice, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
I release a breath, relaxing, picturing what I want this to be. “Don’t stop.”
I laser in on the stretch, on the burn.
Then what I want it to become—the white-hot desire that’s just out of reach. That’s right over the cliff. It’s almost there and I want it so badly because I want to be close to him.
I go for it.
I sit on his dick, taking him all the way. “Oh fuck,” I grunt.
“God yes,” he says at the same time.
Time does stand still. It’s intense as he stretches my ass, filling my whole damn body, it seems.
I feel him everywhere.
It’s this close to good. Not quite yet though, and I want it all. I want all the feelings.
His hands wrap around my hips, and I rise, wincing at the burn, then lower myself once more.
I lift up again. His eyes swing to where we connect, and he trembles, his breath stuttering. “So fucking sexy,” he says, his hands curling tighter around my hips, like he owns me.
And as I drop down, he does.
Oh hell, does he ever own me.
Heart, mind, body.
That’s when the switch flips, when the sensations turn from pain to pleasure. When the too-tight feeling ebbs away and becomes something else entirely—his cock feeling just right inside my body.
Electricity crackles in my veins. My chest heats. Jolts of pleasure shoot through me as I slide my hands up his chest.
He lowers himself onto the mattress, holding my hips, watching my face, and looking like he’s losing his mind. “You got me now,” he says, so husky, so smoky.
I groan, since I can’t form words. I work my hips, find a tempo. I am shaking with pleasure. Overcome by the pinball machine of sensations whipping through me—sparks, and jolts, and so much heat.
He keeps talking, murmuring words of encouragement, so good, yes, fuck yes, and I flash back to last night. To his other words. To why he talks so much. I’m really into you, rookie.
That drives me on. The recall. Makes me hotter, wilder as I fuck his cock, and he fucks me.
Hands slide up chests.
Breaths shudder out.
Eyes go glassy.
Grunts fill the room. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh is the background to our noises.
His sounds.
His gasps. His moans. The curses that fall from his lips.
The feral grunts.
The way he never stops looking at me.
He never takes his eyes off me.
As I ride him, I get to know his body, get to know what makes him tick.
The answer?
Me.
I wind him up.
I drive him crazy.
That is all I want. For him to feel the same way I do.
In every single way.
Declan’s hands slide along my arms, up into my hair. He rises up as he tugs me closer, kissing me desperately as we fuck.
A sharp charge rushes down my spine, and it hits me.
I can come soon.
But I don’t want to come like this.
I want something else.
“Deck,” I breathe.
“Yeah?”
“Can you do something?”
“Anything. I’ll do anything for you,” he rasps out, and I believe his anything.
We lock eyes, and I tell him my fantasy. “I want you to put me on all fours. That’s how I want it. I really want to feel you fucking me.”
His eyes glimmer with shameless lust. “I’ll fuck you so good, rookie.”
I ease off, scramble to my hands and knees, get in position. He moves behind me. “Raise that beautiful ass,” he instructs, all smoky and impossibly sexy.
I lift higher, giving myself to him, trusting he wants everything I have.
For a split second, I tense, but I breathe through it as he sinks into me.
“You,” he rumbles.
I crane my neck to watch him fuck.
Declan’s staring at me savagely. “So fucking hot. You taking me,” he says, and take is exactly what I do.
I take him all the way.
Then, he eases out, almost all the way, before he sinks back in. “You like this? This what you want?”
“Love it,” I answer.
“Me too,” he says on a long, lingering groan, his hand sliding up my back, over my shoulder. “Love it too.”
That word rushes along my skin, sets up camp in my chest, makes the moment so much more intense. I stare at Declan as he finds his pace again.
As pleasure annihilates my body.
I barely know if it’s from the fucking or the watching or the man.
Or the everything.
All of it.
Don’t know. Don’t care.
All I know is I’m being fucked by a guy I’m crazy for.
A man I’m unequivocally falling for.
And that right there is why sex feels out of this world. “Gimme your mouth. Kiss me while you fuck me,” I demand, needing this madly.
Declan does, covering me with his body, grabbing my jaw. I drown in his hot kisses, his tongue plundering my mouth as he drives deep into my body.
I bring my hand to my shaft, but he swats it away.
“You’re mine, rookie,” he snarls in my ear, and I tremble as his hand wraps tight around my dick. “I’ll get you there.”
Relief. At last, some fucking relief.
“Jack me. Please, Deck. I’m begging you,” I say.
“God, you make me so fucking hard. I’ve never been this aroused,” he says.
Every grasp of his fist, every thrust of his cock, every brush of his lips ignites another fire inside me, and I am nothing but flames, nothing but lava as Declan shows me all my fantasies, as he acts them out with me, as he gives me everything I’ve longed for.
Passionate sex.
I close my eyes, sinking into the otherworldly sensations, into the full-body ecstasy of this moment.
The intimacy too.
Wave after wave of lust crashes over me. My hold on reality spirals away and I’m on the verge of coming. “Yes . . .”
“Give it to me,” he moans, sounding lost in me once again, but somehow found too.
The exquisite agony coils into a vibrating knot of ecstasy, one he undoes in one more stroke.
I am devastated by an orgasm that rockets through me.
“Yes, fucking yes,” he groans as I come and come and come into his hand, while Declan fucks me into the mattress, then stills
, tenses and groans for days. “You feel so good.”
And I do feel good.
I feel spectacular as a man comes inside me for the first time in my life.
Not just any man though.
The man I’m pretty sure I’ve inconveniently, stupidly fallen in love with.
The man I desperately want to sleep with again, be with again, see over and over.
But you can’t always get what you want.
32
Declan
I had no idea sex could be like that.
That good. That close. That connected.
After I pull out, I wrap an arm around Grant, nuzzle my face against him. His skin is shiny, a post-sex sheen that I want to savor, selfish bastard that I am right now. “You smell well fucked,” I murmur against his neck, inhaling the sweaty smell of him, the musky scent of our bodies having come together.
“I feel well fucked,” he says, all hoarse and gravelly.
“Good. You should.” I draw another lungful of him, loving his scent. But while I want to stay here, my nose buried in his neck, I’m not that selfish. I need to ditch the condom, and we both should shower. “Let’s clean up,” I tell him.
“Yes, boss,” he deadpans.
We’re in and out in less than four minutes, then we return to bed. I strip the messy cover, grab a new one, and flop down next to my lover.
My guy.
I’m still basking in endorphins, bathing in the afterglow, and I just want to lie here and fall asleep, drift off into dreams.
But I don’t want to end this night too soon.
Plus, there’s the matter of this man who probably can’t walk straight for a couple hours.
“So, how do you feel?”
“Besides well fucked?”
“Yes. Are you sore?”
Grant shakes his head. “Just a little. A good sore, like after a workout.” His brow knits. “But tomorrow? Will it be worse?”
“Probably just sore,” I say, honestly. “Don’t worry—you can still catch the game.”
“Damn well better be able to,” he says, then his expression goes thoughtful again. “Will I always feel like this?”
“Practice makes perfect,” I tease.
“I like the sound of practice. And hey, I’m a competitive athlete, so I’m willing to train and train hard,” he says, showing me that playful side I dig.
“So, I take it that means you like sex?” I crook a grin. I mean, I am pretty sure he had a fan-fucking-tastic time. But I don’t want to assume.
Scoring With Him Page 22
