Declan shifted his hand, sliding a digit inside of her. She sighed and shifted, fighting the urge to move, to do something. His lips caressed her pubic bone, then lower, wrapping around her clit. She shifted her legs, making room for him. His hand twisted, he added another finger, and plunged deeper.
She cupped her breasts, swirling her fingers around her nipples, and gave up caring.
That—what he was doing—felt too good to give a shit about anything else.
He fucked her with his fingers, his tongue writing love letters against her skin. She reached down, shoving her fingers into his hair and held on.
Orgasms were a fleeting, fickle thing in her experience, but this? The feel of him inside of her, the way he caressed her, the taste of his kiss. This was pleasure. And she wanted more.
Rashae pulled on his hair, harder, and wiggled her hips, shaking off his hold.
Declan came slowly, at his own pace, licking and kissing his way up her body.
She wrapped her legs around him, nearly mindless. She had a thought left, only one.
The instant Declan’s mouth landed on hers, she forgot that one, too.
He rocked into her, the rough denim of his jeans rasping over her sensitized, damp flesh.
“Stay. Here.”
He rolled out of the nest of fallen pillows and blankets, and got to his feet. The look in his eyes was a touch wild, uncivilized, and she liked it.
She listened to the thump of his steps across the house, the muttered curses.
Rashae stroked her hands down her body, the sense of arousal heavy in the air.
She felt the vibrations in the floorboards through the rug as he made his way back to her. She peered up, and was treated to the first, glorious glimpse of Declan minus a shirt.
He looked at her like a starving man, and she grinned.
Declan tossed a condom down onto the blanket next to her. He grabbed the belt at his hips, loosened the catch and his jeans sagged a few more glorious inches.
She arched her back and let the blanket slip down a bit.
He dropped his jeans.
Either it was laundry day, or he didn’t believe in underwear.
She watched him, the way he moved, the predator-like way he never took his gaze off her. How his hands moved, tearing open the condom, touching himself.
He slid between the rug and blanket with her, pulling her to him. She hooked her thigh over his hip. He guided his cock to her entrance and paused.
They stared into each other’s eyes.
He’d already been inside of her body, deeper than skin, and yet—this would be the first time. It wasn’t just sex, she’d been wrong to think it would ever just be that.
Declan canted his head toward her and pushed, sliding into her body, joining them in flesh. She tightened her hold on his body, deepening the penetration.
He rolled, putting her on her back, him rising above her.
This was honest. Real, on a level she wasn’t yet ready for, but here it was.
The fire popped and outside, the wind picked up, pelting the windows with bits of snow and ice—but here, within their blanket nest, it was just them.
He moved, his arms braced on either side of her. She planted her feet on the floor and moved with him. It wasn’t hurried or fast, yet she could feel the rising tide. That deep bunch of muscles, building, growing, tightening.
She wouldn’t come, not their first time. Maybe not ever, but she’d remember the way he felt inside of her, around her.
“Come on,” she whispered. She tipped her head back and dug her nails into his skin.
He reached down, hooked his arm under her knee, forcing her open wider. The thrust drove the air out of her lungs.
“Oh!”
Now, that was new...
Declan looped his other arm under her shoulder, holding her in place, his face buried against her neck, his lips making love to that mysterious little spot.
Her head swam, and her body trembled in a way she wasn’t entirely prepared for.
Rashae scrambled to hold on, but Declan was in control. He plundered her body, there was no other word for it.
All at once, the proverbial rug was yanked out from under her.
She was falling.
Her body suspended in the air.
She opened her mouth, a keening wail that might have been a name leaving her lips.
Her vision blurred, and pleasure so sweet she nearly drowned in it overtook her. She was vaguely aware of Declan’s voice, his words, urging her on, but she was lost.
Declan pushed the curls off Rashae’s face. She hadn’t opened her eyes yet. Her body was boneless, spent, something he’d have taken as a good sign except—that scream.
Had he hurt her?
Was something wrong?
His conscience really did not need another sin to add to the list.
“Rashae?”
She still wasn’t responding.
What had Sam called her last night?
“Shae?”
“No—don’t say that right now. My mom calls me Shae. You call me Rashae, or it gets weird.” She flopped her hand toward him, her fingers brushing his lips.
“Are you...okay?”
“I’m in shock. Look? I have a blanket.” She patted the blanket still mostly covering her.
“You...sure?” He had gotten a little carried away there at the end, she’d just...felt so damn good. And she’d clawed at him, something he took as a good sign.
“Yes. Totally. Fine. Good. Shh.”
Declan eased their bodies apart, tugging the blanket up to cover her, and padded to the bathroom for a quick wash. He snagged a cloth, doused it in hot water, and brought it back to Rashae—who was still lying in the boneless pose he’d left her in. She didn’t even move when he touched the rag to her.
He didn’t want to leave her, not after that...sound...she’d made. And the stillness. He hadn’t realized how she was a creature in constant motion, sketching, action until now.
He slid under the blankets next to her, arranging the pillows. For their comfort.
“Did I break you?” he asked, only joking a little.
“Yes.”
“Show me where? Maybe I can fix it?”
“I think whatever you broke needed to be broken.” She patted his arm and cracked one eye, peering up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just wonderin’ if you’re okay.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “I don’t...?”
She shifted then, curling up on her side, lower lip pinched between her teeth. Was it his imagination, or was she...blushing?
“Oh, fuck it. I’ve never had a P-in-V orgasm.”
“Pee-envy?”
“Penis in vagina?”
He stared at her, the words still not quite clicking.
Never?
“Nope.”
“I asked that out loud?”
“Yup.” She snickered.
“I’m—sorry.”
“What? Why?”
“I shouldn’t—I mean—I...”
“Declan?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up. I’m basking here. You worked a miracle and I’m enjoying it. Afterglow. Bask with me.”
“I can do that.”
“Hold me.”
“I can do that, too.”
She scooted closer and he pulled her to him, her curls...everywhere. He stroked her back, her arms, chasing away the goose bumps. The tension coiled tight within him eased a bit. She was okay. He hadn’t hurt her. He’d just lied to her was all. No big deal, right? Fuck.
“What did you...do?” she asked after a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...” Rashae tilted her head back. “Let’s be honest, I’ve had sex before and that has never happened.”
“I did...well, you...reacted more to the...what the hell am I tryin’ to say?” He scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing his sex-addled brain would speed up. “You seemed to like more..
.fuckin’, less...rubbin’.”
The blank look on her face was rather defeating.
“Here.” He reached between their bodies, sliding his fingers over her mound until he found her clit. “This—feels good?”
“Yeah.”
“But when I was here,” he slid his fingers back to her pussy, “when I focused here, you...held on. I just...did what you seemed to like.”
Her eyes fluttered wide, her lips an adorable little “O”.
“That...makes so much sense...”
She kept staring at him, as though no one had ever taken a damn second to...listen to her body.
No, he wasn’t going there.
Declan pulled her to him and kissed her mouth.
She was here, now, and for this moment—his.
9.
R
ashae lay in Declan’s warm embrace, the blankets and pillows all around them. They’d only moved to get a better view of the TV. She drew endless circles on his chest, which was her go to when her brain wouldn’t shut up.
What had she done?
Sex changed things.
The truth was, she hid behind her public personae more than her friends.
Yeah, a big part of the loud, opinionated woman she was on the outside was who she really was...but she wasn’t that confident. Especially when it came to men. That was Tamara’s gift. Rashae’s was...flirting for free drinks and then going home alone.
She’d grown up in a gilded cage. Her father could be coerced to indulging her every geeky whim, but he’d never let her go to events or conventions without an adult around. Even when she’d turned eighteen, he’d hounded her into going with people. Being safe. A young, black woman was a target. She’d seen firsthand what’d happened to Tamara, and it’d changed Rashae, because it could have been her that night.
Since then, Rashae had exercised caution to an excessive degree. She’d befriended Tamara, Miranda—who was her soul sister—and Piper. They were...her crew. Her phalanx. Her shield wall. In many ways, Rashae had learned to protect herself by their example.
She didn’t date people in their con-friend’s circle. Who was she kidding? She didn’t date, period. And now here was Declan. She’d kissed him. He’d made her come. And he’d even thrown around the idea of going to a con together. That was seriously familiar territory for someone she’d just met a few days ago.
She was careful with the people she let into her life. Which was great...until everyone else had someone, and she was alone.
Miranda was rightfully happy and busy with Raul.
Tamara finally had someone who deserved her with Stephen.
Piper was at least getting out there, though they all had reservations about Kobe.
Which left Rashae alone, with her heartbroken sister, who would probably be engaged before the holidays were over. And then...she’d really be alone.
Declan wasn’t a safe choice. He was connected to her geek life. He lived near her family. She barely knew him...and yet...he’d taken her by surprise when few men did.
Kissing him...having sex with him...changed things. Everything.
And then the orgasm.
Holy hell.
From a selfish perspective that was...worth it. Wasn’t it?
What he said about how she’d responded made sense. The few sex toys she’d bothered with were all external and hadn’t done much for her. Oh, she enjoyed the sizzle of arousal as much as the next girl, but she’d always expected to finish last and alone. That he’d...so easily figured out, not only what worked but how to do it, left her reeling.
She wasn’t broken.
After Christmas, she was going to research dildos. Because that was clearly something she needed in her life.
But what about them? How was sex going to change their friendship? Their working relationship?
Declan seemed to be pretty into watching the Doctor Who marathon, and usually she’d be totally dialed in...but she couldn’t get out of her head.
They might have only just met. Hell, until a few nights ago, she’d assumed he was an older guy who was into games and knew how to market things. What were they now? Did she want anything more?
After the holidays, she’d go home. Since focusing more on behind the scenes work, she’d picked up several commissions, plus a handful of stage costumes for an upcoming production off Broadway. She’d be busy before thinking about doing the game design. And then, what about the game? Would sex change their working relationship?
It was sex.
It changed everything.
And she’d been so stupid to show up and think it wouldn’t.
God, why hadn’t she thought for a single second?
“Declan?”
“Hm?” He jabbed the pause button and the TV froze.
“I wanted you to kiss me last night.”
He peered down at her. The way he looked at her, it felt as though he weren’t seeing her face or anything on the outside. When he stared at her this way, it was as though he were looking at her soul. It was just something about him that went more than skin deep. Was it unique to them? Or just how he was?
“I thought about it,” he said finally. “But we had an audience.”
Oh, right. Her awesome family.
Her stomach tightened, and not in a good way.
She had to know. They had to talk about it. Sitting on her worries wouldn’t resolve anything. Watching Sam and Oliver dance around the hurt for the last few months had taught her that.
“Does this change...”
“It doesn’t change anythin’. Unless you want it to.” He picked up their joined hands and kissed her wrist, right where her heart beat fluttered against his lips.
Her heart did a little flip-flop.
He was taking her pulse.
This was just sex.
Nothing more.
And words were words. They weren’t a contract.
“You say that...but...”
“But what?” he asked.
She sighed and sat up, needing some space, and held the blanket to her chest. She didn’t like the uncertainty. The not knowing. She was a control freak. Everyone knew that about her. From her calories, to her fabric, she had it all under her thumb.
This was why she avoided relationships. She couldn’t control them. How she felt. She was better on her own. Besides, the few times she’d attached herself to a man, people had asked him questions for her, as if he were suddenly in charge of her.
“You don’t know what it’s like.” She rubbed her chest.
What did she want?
She didn’t want this sense of loneliness. Her friend’s lives were changing. Everything was in flux. And she...was left behind. But it was different for her. Harder. People treated her far harsher than the others, simply because her skin was a darker hue.
Declan wrapped his hand around her arm, tugging her back to his side.
“What don’t I understand?” he asked.
“What it’s like being a girl geek. The way people treat me. Us.”
“And you think this changes that?”
“Sex changes things.”
Declan stroked her arm, the silence drawing out for a few moments.
“It won’t change anythin’ you don’t want it to change,” he said finally.
“That’s a lie. You don’t get what it’s like. People...thinking you’re not as good as they are. Or whatever.” And it went beyond just being a geek girl. She was a black geek girl. A trifecta that had put her squarely in the crosshairs a few times.
“I understand better than you think I do.”
“You’re a white dude.” She leveled a glare at him.
He glanced down, as though he...had something to hide. What could he possibly understand?
Declan focused on tracing the outline of her fingers on the blanket, the way they stood out against the olive-green fabric. He was going to tell her. Because...she needed to understand that he got it. On the surface, they looked very different
, but under all that, they were the same. That the last thing he’d want to do was for her to be treated like him. Lie to her. She deserved better than that. Him.
“Do you know where the name Loveridge comes from? What it means to people?” He kept staring at her fingers, because he couldn’t look at her. If she hadn’t understood before, she would now.
“No...”
“It’s an Irish Traveler name. My family has been gypsies for generations of Loveridges.”
“Like...seriously?” She pushed up to her elbow, the flicker of fire behind her eyes.
“I grew up in a caravan with my Ma, Pa, three sisters an’ two brothers. There were six of us kids.”
“But, I thought...”
“I don’t have any family?” He glanced up at her then.
“Yeah...” Her brow wrinkled.
Hadn’t she connected the dots?
“They’re dead.”
Her lips parted. He could already hear her questions.
“Travelers...we went about in a group. A dozen of us families, relocatin’, findin’ a place to set up camp. Park the trailers. We were squatters.”
“So...what happened?”
“We were in this town, had been for months, which was unusual. We had this spot between the city dump and a scrap yard. Locals didn’t like us, but we were where no one else wanted to be, so they left us alone. There was a fire one night. Some of the garbage set it off. Theory is some of the homeless let their barrel fire get out of control. It spread from the dump to our camp late one night. One thing you learn early on—caravans can be a death trap when there’s fire.”
“Oh no...”
“There were...seventy people there.” He leaned his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. It didn’t take much to bring back the memories. The smell. The sound of babies crying. “Thirty were killed, either in the fire or in the day after. Twenty more were so badly burned they needed a hospital if they were goin’ to make it. There were...ten, maybe twenty of us, who didn’t get hurt in the initial blaze. A few were off in the next village for work.”
“But—did the fire happen that fast?”
“The initial blaze, yeah, but it could have been stopped. The fire chief chose to not let the local unit come out to us. Then the hospital wouldn’t send ambulances. Cops showed up, just to keep people out. They let everythin’ we had burn.”
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 8
