Page 85 of A Convenient Secret

I balance on one foot as this large man grips the crotch panel of my panties and yanks. The fabric snaps.

“Have you just ripped offmy underwear?” I don’t know if I should berate him or reward him. Again, not even second base yet, and I’m about to come.

He doesn’t bother to heed my question and spreads my folds, humming with appreciation.

It only takes me half a second to throw away my inhibition as he swipes his tongue slowly, circling at my entrance and back to my clit.

The moan that rips out of me is animalistic, coming from somewhere deep where my desire has been hibernating without my even knowing.

“Atta girl, give me all your sounds.”

Declan sucks and licks, testing my reactions and getting to know my body better than I do. And like a good girl, I give him all the sounds.

Not that I have a choice; they spill out of me freely as this man eats me like I’m the only meal he’s ever had.

I lose myself completely under his expert ministrations, thrashing and gripping his hair, pushing him away and closer at the same time. Not that I could move the man, but the assault of sensations is too much.

My orgasm comes so suddenly, I scream and cry and laugh at the same time. “Declan.” I clamp my thighs so tight, I may give him a headache.

He doesn’t let up, and continues swirling histongue, prolonging my pleasure. When he slides my leg slowly to the ground, I’m sure I’m going to pass out.

He stands up and scoops me into his arms in one swift move, seemingly unaffected by what has happened. Bar the steel rod poking into me.

Spent and dazed, I lower my head to his chest. He shifts a bit and pushes the button. The elevator hums to life, and we ride up.

“That was…” I sigh, contentment spreading through me.

“First thing on the agenda. I’ve been fantasizing about your taste for way too long. I might need another taste as soon as we’re up.”

As the hormones settle, a blush creeps into my cheeks. “Maybe I should shower first.”

He glowers. “You, little Seagull, taste like heaven.”

I roll my eyes. “What’s next? Poetry? Who even are you?”

His expression shifts, turning serious. “Your husband.”

The flickering lights of the city are mesmerizing tonight. The door to the terrace clicks, and I turn.

Declan, who has shed his jacket and bow tie, saunters in with a glass of whiskey. It’s a hot night, but thebreeze is refreshing, giving me a needed break before Declan moves to whatever is next on that agenda of his.

As if he knew I needed a breather, he carried me out here as soon as we stepped out of the elevator. I ride that thing with the kids… Jesus, my face will be permanently red.

He puts the glass on a small table, crooks his finger, and beckons me to him.

“The dress needs to go,” he orders.

“You want me to take it off here?”

“I can do it for you. You can’t be cold.”

“I’m not… and I know we’re very high, but what if someone hears us?”

“That’s the point, Seagull; shrill away.” He winks. He fucking winks.

A playful Declan. I won’t survive tonight.

I stop in front of him, and he reaches for the zipper on my side. How does he even know where the zipper is?