“Would you stop? He did not pay me afterward.”
The cabbie tossed another quick look over his shoulder and I shooed him back. “Keep your eyes on the road mister,” I scolded.
He shrugged and did as I asked, thank Christ.
It was bad enough I was doing this, I didn’t need to die for it as well when he ran us off the road.
I could just picture it. At my funeral everyone would be talking about what a tragedy my death had been and then some well-meaning person would ask why I’d been out on such a terrible night in the first place. To which Katie would somberly say, “It was so sad. She was so dickmatized she couldn’t wait another day for that schlong.” Instead of being scandalized, all the little old ladies would knowingly nod their heads, understanding in their eyes.
“Oh, I know. I just like teasing you. And saying hooker.”
She did. She really, really did. Katie called everyone a hooker, whether she liked them or not.
“Anyhow, I just wanted to apologize. Don’t ever say I can’t admit when I’m wrong.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you forget this.”
I stepped out of the taxi and stood in front of Declan’s house. None of the windows were lit which posed a bit of a problem. When I’d hung up on him, it hadn’t occurred to me that he’d go out. Shit. Had I just made a monumental mistake? I was already down €50 for the cab; I didn’t want to shell out another €250 for a hotel room.
I marched up the front walkway—slipping on the icy red-and-black Victorian tiles he’d warned me about before—and banged on the knocker and waited for him to answer. Seconds ticked by, but nothing.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glanced at the time again, worried that maybe it was too late. Declan’s workout had been a hard one today so it was plausible he’d already fallen asleep.
He can sleep when he’s dead, I thought as I grabbed the heavy brass knocker in my hand and banged it again, putting as much strength into the gesture as I could. At this rate, I’d probably wake up his neighbors too.
But before I could worry too much about that, I heard rustling and then the locks being thrown. Opening the door just a fraction, Declan popped his head out.
“Sophie? What are you doing here?”
Pushing past him, I stepped into his foyer.
“I thought you were mad at me,” he said, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“I’m not mad at you Declan,” I told him as I unwound an extra-long scarf from my neck. “I’m not mad at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
No, it’s clear he doesn’t.
I tossed the scarf over my shoulder and he caught it as I started up the stairs toward his bedroom.
Craning my neck, I said, “I believe you mentioned something about tying me up.”
His eyebrows shot up and a look of utter disbelief crossed his face.
“You’re going to need that,” I said, nodding toward the scarf he held loosely in his hand, as I pulled my sweater over my head and dropped it on the stairs behind me as I continued up.
When I reached the landing and Declan still hadn’t moved, I unclasped my bra and leaned over the banister. “Are you coming?”
“Hell yes, I’m coming,” he barked as he ran up the stairs to join me.
I raced into his bedroom and stripped as quickly as I could, leaving my four-inch fuck-me pumps on. I’d worn them only one time and had nearly killed myself, but if there was one thing I’d learned from the internet, it was that dudes loved a naked chick in high heels.
The second I took a (posed) seat on the edge of his bed, Declan barreled through the door, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.
Advancing on me with wicked intent, he dropped to his knees in front of me. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this?”
“You’re not imagining it.”
His eyes flicked between mine, searching. “And you want this?”
“I want you,” I confided. “And if this is what you need, I want to be the one to give it to you.”
He winced. “You don’t have to do this Soph,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I know I don’t have to Declan. I want to.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I echoed, setting my fingers against his chest and fisting his t-shirt. Pulling him close, I answered, “Because when you described the things you wanted to do to me, it turned me on in ways I’d never imagined. Because when I pictured you tying me up, I had to clench my thighs tight against the ache. Because when I thought about your cock jammed down my throat, my mouth watered.” I swallowed, just thinking about it making me hot again. “Because I’ve never done any of this and I trust you to make it good.”
“Fuck me,” he breathed out in awe.
“That’s the idea,” I answered.
He blinked and swallowed, then set his large palms on my thighs. Sliding them higher, he gripped my waist tight, his fingers digging in to my flesh.
“What in the world did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked, nipping at my lips between each word.
“You’re a fucking miracle,” he groaned before finally—finally!—capturing my lips, his kiss rough and full of want.
Declan fisted his hand through my hair and pulled my neck taut. He scraped his teeth over my skin and laved his way down until he reached my breasts. He wasn’t gentle and I didn’t want him to be. The sensations that skated along my skin were new and exciting and I wondered how I’d gone this long without ever feeling them.
With his hands and mouth, Declan brought me to the exquisite edge between pleasure and pain. Twisting one nipple between his fingers as he suckled the other, his eyes met mine, daring me to look away. I couldn’t. His raw, naked need held me captive. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away.
His chest sawing in and out with ragged breaths, he growled, “You don’t even know what I want to do to you.”
“Show me then,” I challenged. “Show me everything.”
He kissed me again, the stubble of his chin abrading my skin, and cupped my pussy in his palm before sliding a finger into my slit.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said, sucking his finger into his mouth and licking it clean.
“Lay down,” he ordered, pushing me onto my back. Grabbing my legs, he forced them up until my thighs rested against my chest, leaving me completely exposed. “Hold your legs like this until I say you can let go,” he instructed before diving down to lick the entire length of my seam.
Drawing my clit into his mouth, he sucked it and fingered my pussy until I was panting, writhing, and keening. When my grip started to slip, he smacked my ass with one hand while he continued to twist and coil his fingers inside of me with the other.
Holy fuck! The slap—a fiery brand against my ass—had stung at first but then the burn had dissipated, leaving my skin warm and tingly.
“Keep those legs up,” he demanded, “or I won’t let you come.”
Slowing his finger fuck to a steady in and out that drove me mad, he caressed his palm over my ass and murmured his appreciation and then kissed his way across the globes of my cheeks, bringing his mouth back to my sex. Making love to me with his mouth, his tongue bandied back and forth across my clit, and sliding his slick fingers from my pussy, he trailed them south to the tight little bud of my ass. I sucked in a surprised gasp when he circled it, my juices making it easier for his finger to slip and slide over that secret place.
“I’ve had dreams about fucking you here,” he whispered, his voice gravelly with lust and pent up desire, as he stroked me. “About what it would be like to take you here. How nice and snug you’d be as I rode you,” he continued, mesmerizing me with his words and his touch.
I’d never craved the feel of someone there, but dear god I wanted it with Declan. On a strangled moan, I begged him for more without really understanding what I was asking for.
“You like this? You want me to fuck this tight little hole?”
I’d never seen hi
m like this, but the dominant, filthy way he spoke had me crying out for more. I nodded and whimpered my consent. When the tip of his finger slipped past my barrier and he pumped into me, I saw stars. It was like the world stopped spinning and had fallen off its axis. And then all at once, a gust of breath burst from my lungs as my orgasm rocked through me and left me dizzy. As I came down, he slipped his finger out of me and went back to rubbing me in slow, sensual circles. It was too much. I wanted it—him—but didn’t know if I could take any more.
I was done, but he’d only just begun.
“I’m going to give you everything I think you can handle, but first—” his words cut off when he licked my asshole and swirled his tongue over that delicate flesh.
My back arched off the bed and I lost my grip on my thighs as he ate my ass like it was a feast. Time ceased to mean a thing and the world exploded behind my eyelids when his long middle finger glided into my hole again and he finger fucked my ass.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I chanted, the words a prayer to him and his masterful touch. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I sang as my second orgasm tore through me like a furious winter wind.
Flipping me onto my stomach, he ordered me to get on my knees. “Now grab hold of my headboard and don’t let go,” he commanded and I did as he bid.
Pushing me forward so my chest was flush against the mattress, he whispered, “Fuck, you’re perfect,” just before I felt the sting of his palm striking my ass, the smack reverberating through the room.
I bucked and cried out, but I didn’t let go of the slats of his headboard. Knowing my obeying him gave Declan pleasure, I vowed to hold tight, as if my life depended on it.
“I could fuck you for the rest of my life,” he whispered, almost to himself, as he brought his hand down against my heated flesh for the third time tonight.
I bit my lip and stifled my sob. It hurt but in the pain there was a sort of wicked pleasure too. I didn’t know what it said about me—and I was in no frame of mind to consider it—but rather than recoiling, I waited eagerly for the next blow to land.
Stroking my skin with one hand, Declan undid the zipper of his jeans and angled his cock against my pussy with the other before surging forward. When I gasped at the delicious invasion, he growled low in his throat and began to fuck me exactly like he’d said he wanted—hard, fast, aggressive. This wasn’t making love. This was primal, animalistic, carnal.
Bowing over my back, he reached around to flick my clit, his fingers and cock working me over. After a few seconds, a minute, or a lifetime, an epic climax took hold of me, rocking my world. With tears in my eyes, my grasp on his headboard loosened with the strain of trying to hold on. I was near to collapsing when Declan pulled out and flipped me onto my back and captured my wrists above my head. He fucked me hard, his hips smashing into me, and it was exquisite.
“Touch yourself, Sophie,” he demanded, loosening his grip enough that my hand could slip away.
I reached down to toy with my clit, rubbing and squeezing it between my fingers.
Changing the pace of his thrusts, he said, “That’s a good girl. My beautiful fucking girl.”
His praise ignited something primitive in me, a need to please him. A need for him to direct my pleasure, to control my needs, wants, and desires. Even though I didn’t know how things would be in the light of day, I was ready to cede complete control to him in the dark of night. Nearing another orgasm, I writhed in wet, hot abandon and thrashed against him while my sweat-soaked body glistened in the moonlight.
I sucked in a lungful of air as I came, my pussy convulsing around his dick in shuddering, clenching spasms, my body hungry for him. Ripples of ecstasy cascaded over me, sending me to the heavens before plunging me back down to earth as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.
Declan bellowed out a guttural cry and his body shuddered as he bit down on my shoulder and then exploded, his hot seed filling me as we collapsed onto the mattress.
“I’m in love with you,” I thought I heard him say as I drifted off to an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Declan
I’d had a shit practice and I was tired as hell, but I’d told Sophie I’d call her when she was done with her shift so with three hours to go, I set the alarm on my phone and burrowed under the covers for a nap. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the alarm was blaring in my ear, urging me to wake up. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I dialed Sophie’s number.
“Hey baby,” I said when she answered.
“Hey you, what’s up?” she responded groggily.
I loved her voice when it sounded like this, a throaty mixture of honey and spice. It was the same way right after she came.
“You weaseled out of telling me about your first kiss the other day,” I told her.
I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know, but when we’d shared all our other firsts, it seemed a weird thing not to know. The problem with asking though was that I had a jealous streak a mile long where Sophie was concerned. This had never happened before and I hated the feeling, but like a scab you couldn’t stop picking at, I wanted all the details.
“Not exactly the highlight of my teenage years,” she groaned. “I was fourteen, still as awkward as I’d been when we knew each other, except by then I also had braces.”
“You were adorable,” I countered.
“Right. That’s why you called me Fly Girl.”
“In my defense, those glasses did magnify your eyes quite spectacularly. I maintain it was an appropriate nickname.”
Sophie laughed, but didn’t argue since we both knew I was right.
“Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?”
“Oh, I definitely want to hear it now that I know you had a mouth full of metal. Please tell me you sliced the poor sod’s lip off.”
“Not exactly …”
“Oh my god, you didn’t,” I hooted.
“Shut up. I didn’t slice his lip off, okay? It was just a small scratch.”
“This might be the best story ever,” I laughed around my words.
“Of course you’d think so, being a fan of my childhood humiliation and all,” she accused, teasingly.
I loved that something that had started as a major point of contention between us had settled into an easy, shared history. That we could openly tease each other was a place I never thought we’d reach. That she’d forgiven me at all was a minor miracle, and I wasn’t about to second guess my good fortune.
“Well, you did turn that lovely shade of pink I’ve come to admire so much. It’s the same shade you turn when I make you come.”
Rather than playing along, Sophie turned the tables and asked me about my first girlfriend, someone I hadn’t thought about in years.
“Oh no, now you’re the one weaseling out of confessions. Man up O’Shaughnessy. I want to know about your first girlfriend.”
“The truth is, she broke up with me for an older bloke,” I answered, hoping that’d be the end of it.
“How’d that make you feel?”
Ugh, not feelings.
“How do you think it felt? Like shit. She was the first girl who didn’t want me.”
“Excuse me,” Sophie replied mock-indignantly, “but that honor goes to yours truly.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I answered.
It was true. Róisín might have been the first girl to give me the old heave ho, but Sophie had been the first to break my heart.
“Anyhow, it sucked. First of all, I’d never had anyone break it off with me, and second of all, the lad she hooked up with was a better rugby player than me.”
“Ouch. That must have hurt.”
“Meh, it’s fine. He never went pro so it’s all water under the bridge now. I actually haven’t thought about Róisín in years.”
“Did you love her?”
“Róisín?”
“Yeah,” she replied on a hushed whisper.
“Nah,”
I said. “At the time I thought I did, but now I think I loved the sex more than anything.” My statement hung heavy in the ensuing silence.
“Oh,” she breathed out then fell quiet.
“Oh.”
“Can I ask you something?” she said after a few beats.
If I’d known what her question was going to be, I might have answered differently. “Sure.”
“Will you tell me what happened with Natasha?”
Fuck. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to since I’d gotten out of it the other night.
“If I say no?”
“If you say no …” She sighed, a long, extended exhale. “Honestly, if you say no, I’ll probably wonder why you don’t trust me. But I told you once you didn’t have to, so …” her words trailed off.
“I do trust you,” I rushed to assure her. “I just …”
“You just what?”
This time the sigh was mine. “It’s ugly Soph. I don’t want you thinking about that when we’re together. I don’t want you picturing me and Natasha and all the ways she messed me up.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re messed up,” she answered. “I think you like sex a certain way, and it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s not wrong to want what you want.” She paused, took a deep breath, then let it out. “If it’s any consolation, I love having sex with you. It’s exciting and raw and unlike anything I could ever have imagined. Even just thinking about the things you want to do to me makes me wet.”
Well, shit. When she put it like that.
“But it’s okay. I understand if you don’t want to tell me. I won’t ask again.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. Was I making too much of this? Maybe if I put it out there, Sophie could help me work through some of the shit that had built up in my mind since that night. There was really only one way to find out.
I inhaled and hoped for the best.
“So I told you I went back to her place, yeah?”
“Yes, that’s where you left off.”
“Like I said, she goaded me all night, telling me all the things she wanted me to do to her. The second we were through her door, I pushed her to her knees just like she’d told me she wanted, but she seemed suddenly … reluctant.”
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 27
