Declan's Demand

by M. C. Cerny

  “I owe you.” It’s not a question, and her voice trembles but the way her eyes rake over me I know she’s partly aroused by the idea. What woman isn’t secretly primed, at least biologically on some level, to crave a certain degree of submission? Sydney has the makings of a lovely sub. I suddenly find myself with the inclination to train her despite all my previous efforts to push her away.

  I roll over top of her, pinning her to the bed. Our noses touch in the briefest of grazes and I lean into the bed, forcing her to burrow deeper into soft layers of pillow-top mattress. It’s the same sort that will comfort not only her backside but her bruised ego when I’m done with her.

  And oh, how the mighty will fall.

  “A debt, pretty girl.”

  Her throat constricts in a swallow. “A debt, you say.”

  I could go back and forth with her about this all day, all damn night if I need to.

  “Yes. Since a rival gifted me a carpet-wrapped present, I now own you and your…familial obligations.”

  “Y-you mean like my father’s gambling debts.” Her body shifts underneath mine with nervous energy, but not enough to buck me off of her unless I wish to move, which I don’t—at least not until my point is thoroughly made.

  “Smart, too.” I watch her eyes flutter shut. She thinks I don’t know about the extensive debt—and by extensive, I know it’s in the ballpark of half a million dollars. I also know that Detective Errol Meadows seems to know a lot about missing evidence lockers and underground gambling activities from my father’s exploits. It’s a sticky situation and a fine line I have to navigate with my own interests on the line.

  “How do I pay that back?”

  I move her arms above her head, ready to nestle my lips against her neck in a furious kiss worthy of marking her skin.

  “By…having dinner with me, for starters.”

  Her expression changes to one of relief. She thought I might force her, and that rankles, but doesn’t surprise me either. Regardless of my heavy-handed tactics and bedroom preferences, I’m not about force. Coercion…reward-based encouragement? Well, I don’t put that in quite the same category. I’m not a saint.

  “Dinner.” She looks as surprised as I feel.

  Since when did suck my dick come out sounding like have dinner with me? Ah well, I guess I wasn’t going in for full asshole yet. There was still plenty of time to disabuse her notions of me having the slightest bit of gallantry for her feelings or problems. It is, after all, barely nine in the morning and we have a long day ahead of us.

  I move off her quickly and adjust my suit and pants. “I have a meeting with my brother, but I’ll be back later to take you to dinner.”

  She shuffles, sitting up in bed, the white T-shirt doing nothing to hide the color of her dark areolas pressing against the cotton.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Do?” I ask, fixing my collar and cuffs in the mirror over the dresser and watching her in the reflection.

  “Until then?” Her top teeth nip her bottom lip and she looks unsure.

  Sauntering back to the bed, I lean on my arms over her. I breathe in her scent. It’s missing the floral tones I expect from her. In fact, I still smell LeHavre’s thick cologne mixed with mine from the bedsheets and it rolls my stomach.

  “Take a bath.”

  She’s mine. She’ll damn well smell like it.

  Her chin drops. “A bath?”

  “Mmm, yup.” I don’t explain further and she doesn’t press it, thankfully. I don’t want to have to explain how her natural scent is missing and I’m a broody fucker this morning after finding her rolled up on my doorstep last night.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace to be seen. I want to make sure LeHavre knows I have you.” I lean in to tweak her nose. “All of you.” Sue me, I’m proprietary too.

  “Oh.” She puffs a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t think you fully understand.”

  Her head shakes no, but I grab her upright by the back of her neck and pull her into me. The shirt I put her in to sleep tightens around her curves and bunches.

  “Declan.” Her moan forces my hand. I used to think I had superpowers and was immune to the guiles of women, but I have to have her—even if it’s just a taste for now. I can’t wait until later when the mere sound of want coming from her lips reduces me to a helpless mortal man.

  “I’ll be coming back for dessert, Sydney. This is only the beginning.” I crush her lips underneath mine, forcing her mouth open wide. She whimpers and I tilt her chin down sweeping in to taste her. Honey and lemon. Who knew she could be tart and sweet. I want to kiss her pussy lips, licking between her wet folds for hours drinking her in, but that will have to wait. Unsatisfied, I settle for plunging my hand between bed linens and her skin. When my fingers graze her wet cunt, she moans, and I step closer to the bed and force her legs wide apart as I openly lick her mouth and suck on her neck.

  I pull back enough to rest my forehead against hers. “Tell me what you want.” She tastes of spring and innocence—things I’ll ruin, given time. Taking her later will be all the sweeter when my dick plows her mound, claiming her.

  “I want you, Declan. Just you.”

  “How, baby?” My hand slips lower, teasing, playing gently against the soft lips and sliding up and down. My thumb rubs her clit and my finger hovers, circling her damp, hot core.

  “I want your finger inside me.” That moan is my undoing.

  “Just one?” I push slowly inside, feeling her inner walls clench as they resist my longest digit penetrating her up to my knuckle.

  “You’re tight, Sydney. So fucking tight.”

  A little gush of her honey makes the second stroke easier, and her head extends back as she rides the ripple of an orgasm close to the surface. “You’re soaked, baby. I’m sliding through.” Her core squeezes my finger. I add a second one popping them in and out fast, not giving her exactly what she wants, but instead taking what I want.

  “I want to fuck you hard so that you wear my sweat on your skin at the restaurant. I want your legs slick, silk sticking to your cunt all through dinner so I can lick you for dessert,” I whisper hotly in her ear.

  “It burns.” She pushes her hands to my chest and I grab them in a single clasp, holding her close to me. Between us heartbeats pulse, and I feel like I ran ten miles just to have her.

  “Aye, it does. I promise a fire much later.” I kiss her forehead, circling my finger wide inside her before slipping it out and tasting her musky essence.

  “Dec.” She grabs me, pulling my head to hers, and kisses me, tasting herself on my lips. It’s the single hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, and I forget any other woman before her. They are gone. Erased. Obliterated.

  I release Sydney into the pile of sheets, letting her cover her modesty for one last time. Tonight, nothing will stand in my way. No debts, no familial obligations, because I will have all of her.

  “Forget the bath. I want you as you are,” I growl, thinking about dried cum on her thighs and keeping her dirty for me alone. I never said I’m right in the head.

  Sydney is an unsatisfied quivering mess. She looks like a goddess amidst tangled sheets and wild hair. Finger-fucking did nothing to loosen her up, but her scent is back and that’s all I care about.

  “Can I wash my hair?”

  “For once, Sydney, be a good girl and do what I tell you to do.” I kiss her lips in a quick peck.

  “I plan to meet with Neil later which will take up most of the day.”

  She nods, listening.

  “Don’t touch yourself. I want you drunk with need, because I’m not going to go easy on you and we both know it.” I tap my finger on her nose lightly.

  Her eyes flash and I warn her again to not finish herself off or there will be consequences. I want her in a state of ravenous need when the time comes. Right now I have business that needs tending before I can give her my undivided attention.

  Hours pas
s while I’m engrossed in spreadsheets when the door to my office opens and Neil saunters in, disturbing the peace. I look up from my latest report of numbers. The club has alcohol to be ordered, and the last shipment of containers came into port late last night. I only received the manifesto and logs this morning, which still have to be sorted and accounted for.

  “Dinner? Really, Declan.” Neil looks astonished. He makes it sound unbelievable that I would want to break bread and converse with a female in a place other than between silky sheets. I forget that my reputation often precedes me.

  “The staff around here talks too much. Also, you’re not invited.” I flip through files, calculating numbers and ignoring him as I wave for him to take a seat.

  “That wasn’t your plan for the girl.”

  I look up and scan my brother’s face. Instead of sitting, he stands with his hands gripping the chair, white-knuckling the trim and brocade fabric that’s older than either one of us. He’s oddly protective of Sydney and it bothers me. He says he’s not interested in her, and he’d better hope that’s true. He won’t get a shot at her until I’ve had my fill of her warm body, and I doubt I’ll be giving her up anytime soon.

  I wave him off. “Yes, yes, I know. It sounds far less like ‘suck my dick’ than I meant for it to, but there’s something about her.” Maybe it’s my honesty, but Neil looks appeased.

  “Something that stops you from going in for the kill?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, the doctor reports there are no drugs in her system and she’s clean otherwise. Looks like LeHavre roughed her up and that’s all.” He tosses his own file on the desk in front of me. Neil is nothing if not thorough. Money can buy lots of things—including lab reports.

  “I see you were busy then.” I flip it open to read the results. Nothing I hadn’t already expected, especially with her tight body and shy blushes—something that’s hard to fake in my world. I probably know all the wrong girls, hanging out in my club.

  “Were you expecting less, brother?”

  “Not really.” I turn and file the document away in my cabinet, locking it securely.

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “The Steakhouse.” He would know, because Stevens and Rhodes would be our security detail tonight.

  “Engaging the Triad?” Neil quips, brows high.

  “Hardly, but I do want LeHavre sympathizers to see I am fully in control. Any weakness cannot be tolerated.”

  “Even a woman?”

  “Especially a woman.”

  A knock on the door stops our conversation as it opens halfway.

  “Mrs. O’Malley said I should come here.”

  Neil opens the door wide to let Sydney slip inside.

  Neil chuckles, appraising Sydney. “Indeed, good old Maggie.”

  I glare, watching his eyes move from her smooth hair down to her heeled toes. Maggie must have helped her. Colossal pain in my ass is what that woman is, even if she can cook a damn good meal.

  I stand up from the desk, shuffling files.

  “We should go then.” That’s my cue for Neil to get the hell out of my house.

  “Have fun, you two.” He leans in to kiss Sydney on the cheek.

  At least she isn’t leaning into it or kissing him back, easing the irrational jealous tension on my heart.

  “Goodnight, asshole,” I grouse, and Neil laughs loudly, exiting the house.

  Sydney doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is focused on the floor. “Your brother,” she says, flicking lint off her dress.

  I suppose it’s an explanation or a question, and I don’t follow up to ask.

  “Yes, I have a sister too, but it’s unlikely you’ll spend much time with Tabitha.” I wave off the answer.

  “Oh.”

  I wave her forward with my hand. “Come, I have something for you.”

  Sydney takes slow steps in the long dress I left for her to wear. Classic black silk cups her curves in a dark waterfall. Her hair is swept up in a low bun, small curls escaping. She’s wearing no makeup, and I find I like that look on her better than shit mascara and red lips that don’t match her personality.

  I pull back the bookshelf and spin the combination lock to trigger the release of the door that swings open. Sydney peers over my shoulder as lights activate and I pull her in close. My hands rest on her hips, backing her inside against the wall. She shivers when cool steel rests against her bare back that’s exposed from the dress. I guess we have a thing about enclosed spaces.

  “What is this?”

  “My vault.” I reach the shelf behind her to retrieve a slim jewelry box resting on top of documents. All jokes aside, I could probably shove her inside and shut the door, keeping her forever. I wouldn’t, but it’s possible. She’s staring at me like it scares her.

  “Afraid?” I ask.

  “What? No. It’s just so big,” she mutters, and I crack a smile.

  “You’ll find out how big later. Come on.” I guide her back to the desk and open the box, pulling out a necklace that hasn’t seen daylight since my mother’s death. I’m not fully sure why I took it out for Sydney, but it’s too late to examine those thoughts now.

  “Declan?”

  “Turn around.” I make her spin and I put the necklace on her. I kiss the side of her neck, licking a path to the space behind her earlobe. Her scent is back, along with the taste of her skin. My shoulders release the tension they’ve been holding all day as I relax around her. My fingers trail down her back, touching each bump of her vertebrae until my thumbs meet the hollow just above her ass, where my fingers cup her. A decent handful for sure.

  “It’s beautiful.” Her fingers touch the heavy chain, cool against her warm skin. In the mirror I watch them follow a path down to the teardrop ruby between her breasts.

  “I know.” Kissing the back of her neck, I meet her eyes in the mirror. I would forget dinner and head back upstairs for dessert, but Sydney Meadows still owes me.

  Chapter Ten

  Sydney

  This time it’s Rhodes holding the door as we get out of the car. Cameras outside click and flash, blinding me, and Declan holds me close under his arm as my eyes struggle to adjust going into the dark restaurant. This is a side I hadn’t expected. Will my dad see this? Selma? LeHavre?

  Dinner is a stilted affair. I’m dressed to the nines in a black sheath that matches Declan’s suit. Jewelry provided winks refracted light from the cut stones hanging from my ears and the necklace that dips low between my breasts, a single ruby teardrop is the cherry on top of this outfit.

  Several business associates approach our table in the back. Here I learn that Declan is fluent in Gaelic, Mandarin, and French. I didn’t know, and now I feel like I seriously underestimated him. Smart and sexy aren’t the usual adjectives one aligns with a criminal. By the third time we’re approached, Declan grouches at the wait staff, indicating we shouldn’t be bothered anymore. He pulls me flush alongside him in the horseshoe-shaped private dinner booth, flipping my dress up under the table.

  “Declan?” I push his hands away but he grabs my wrist, insisting I let go.

  “My hands are cold,” he swears.

  “And the sky is green,” I mutter, making him bark out loud.

  “It is during a tornado,” he says, winking before shoving them between my thighs.

  This man is definitely the devil in sheep’s clothing, walking on earth, tormenting me.

  “What’s wrong?” He gives me a sidelong glance while squeezing my inner thigh. His fingers do nothing more than stroke between my legs, leaving me restless, teased, and aching.

  “Nothing.” I’ve already forgotten myself and the role I have to play. I couldn’t help but scan the file stickers inside the vault that was actually a secret room within his office. The damn papers were right there within my reach, clearly labeled for the waterfront property LeHavre is looking to seize. My hands sweat and itch since seeing the file. Guilt chokes me, along with this ruby necklac
e hanging heavy around my neck like a noose.

  “Tell me,” he demands. There’s no other way to phrase it. Declan has this way about him that speaks volumes. He doesn’t have to threaten or get loud; it’s his mere presence. He’s a truth serum wrapped in a black suit and consequences that make my belly quiver and my core wet with anticipation.

  “I swear, I’m fine.”

  My hands smooth down the dress as far as I can tug it down without dislodging Declan’s hands. I fluff out imaginary wrinkles as I shift my weight.

  “You don’t like the dress?” he accuses.

  “It’s not the dress. The dress is…lovely.” I supply an answer I hope appeases him. The sheer lace I’m wearing underneath it—as if those strips of cloth would actually cover anything—doesn’t count. I’m probably lucky I even have a dress to wear right now.

  “Well?” he probes verbally, with his sneaky finger inching between my thighs.

  “This is so uncomfortable,” I mumble to myself, glancing at the tables of people who look at us between sips of wine and gluttonous forkfuls of Kobe steak that easily costs two hundred dollars a plate.

  Declan pauses to look at me. I almost repeat myself, afraid he didn’t hear me the first time.

  He leans in letting out a derisive huff, and I know he heard me.

  “I can make this more uncomfortable if you like.”

  My face heats and I peek back at the patrons of the Japanese steakhouse who stare boldly at us. I can’t hear their words, but I know something like, Declan’s new toy must be traveling quickly amid them. Shame has me hanging my head down low, and Declan merely picks up my chin.

  “Chin up, princess. Can’t have your crown slipping.”

  Ignoring him, I tear my chin from his light grasp. Shame fills me at the situation I’m in, but what options are left?

  He clucks at me and speaks low. “If you don’t look at me, I may have to kiss the shit out of you right here right now.” His voice is low, making my eyes dart up into his chuckling expression.

  “You wouldn’t.” Unsure, I back up in the booth with nowhere left to go, hesitating and nerves vibrating.