Page 9

VICTORIA

W hen our lips meet this time, it’s softer than our first kiss, but no less intense. His mouth feels warm against mine, and I savor the moment, melting into him as he pulls me closer. My hands slide up his chest to his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath his shirt as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

The kiss deepens naturally, my hunger for him building with each passing second. A small, needy sound escapes me before I can stop it, and I feel his reaction like a current passing between us. My back meets the window as he presses closer, the cool glass a contrast to the heat of his body.

“Declan,” I gasp as his lips move to my neck, finding a spot below my ear that sends shivers down my spine. “This is...”

“Amazing,” he completes for me, his breath warm against my skin as he trails kisses along my jawline. “You’re amazing.”

My fingers thread through his hair, holding him to me as he continues his exploration. When his hands find the tie of my wrap dress, he pauses, pulling back slightly to meet my eyes in silent question.

I bite my lip. Despite the obvious desire in his eyes, the old insecurities rise up. “I’m not... I don’t look like the women you usually?—”

He silences me with another kiss, this one fierce and claiming. “Don’t,” he says firmly against my lips. “Don’t compare yourself to anyone. You’re beautiful, Victoria. Every inch of you. I’ve been dreaming about this since the moment I saw you.”

The conviction in his voice melts away my hesitation, replacing it with something warmer, darker. Something that says I deserve to be wanted like this.

“Show me,” I whisper, both a challenge and a surrender.

With deliberate slowness, he tugs at the tie of my dress, and I feel it fall open, exposing my black lace bra and matching panties. The cool air against my skin makes me shiver, but the heat in his gaze as he takes me in—full breasts, abundant curves—warms me from the inside out.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, and his hands move reverently over my sides, my stomach, up to cup my breasts through the delicate lace.

I tremble under his touch but refuse to shy away. Instead, I reach for the buttons of his shirt, my fingers working them open with surprising steadiness given how much I want this. “Your turn,” I say, pushing the shirt from his shoulders.

My hands explore his chest, his shoulders, his back, tracing the contours of muscle and sinew, committing the feel of him to memory. When my fingers trail down to the waistband of his jeans, he captures my wrists gently.

“Bedroom?” he suggests, his voice rough with wanting.

Reality crashes back in, and I hesitate. Everything about this moment feels right, but the consequences loom large in my mind. If I fall here, who catches me?

“Declan, I... I want to. But... I don’t want anyone to find out. I can’t...”

I bite my lip, hating myself for ruining the moment, but needing him to understand. His eyes search mine, and I see not judgment but compassion in his gaze.

“No one will find out,” he promises, taking my hands in his. “This is just us. No one else needs to know.”

Relief washes over me, followed quickly by renewed desire. “OK.” I nod. “Bedroom.”

He leads me down the hallway to his room, and I feel my heart pounding in my chest. The king-sized bed dominates the space, and I can’t help but wonder how many women have been here before me.

“Just so you know,” he says, turning to face me. “I wasn’t lying earlier. I don’t bring people here. This is... different.”

I study his face, searching for any hint of deception, but all I see is sincerity. Something tight in my chest loosens, and I step forward, sliding my hands up his chest before kissing him with renewed confidence.

We move toward the bed in a stilted dance—two steps forward, one step back, turning and pressing against each other as clothes are shed and kisses deepen. When the back of his legs hit the mattress, he sits, pulling me between his legs. His eyes level with my breasts, still covered by the black lace bra I’d chosen with more hope than I’d admitted to myself.

“Fuck, you have magnificent tits,” he groans, his fingers tracing the edge of my bra.

His crude language surprises me, but instead of feeling offended, a thrill runs through me. The raw desire in his voice makes me feel powerful, wanted in a way I’ve never experienced before.

“You can touch them,” I whisper, reaching behind to unclasp my bra. “I want you to.”

The black lace falls away, and I fight the urge to cross my arms over myself as his gaze rakes over me. But the reverence in his eyes, the way his breath catches, silences my insecurities.

His hands come up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, drawing a gasp from my lips. The heat of his touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, leaning forward to take one nipple into his mouth. A soft cry escapes me at the sensation—warm, wet heat surrounding the sensitive peak as he sucks gently, then with more pressure. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him closer.

“Declan,” I breathe, my head falling back as he lavishes attention on my breasts, moving from one to the other. “Oh God...”

He pulls me onto the bed, laying me against the pillows so he can see all of me. Wearing nothing but my black lace panties, I feel more exposed than I’ve ever been, yet somehow not vulnerable. His gaze on me feels like a caress, appreciative rather than judgmental.

Still, I shift slightly under his scrutiny, a flicker of my old uncertainty resurfacing.

“Don’t,” he says softly, placing a hand on my hip to still me. “Let me look at you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Color floods my cheeks at his words, but I don’t try to cover myself. Instead, I reach for the button of his jeans, my fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I say, a playful glint returning to my eyes.

He helps me remove his jeans and boxers, and my breath catches at the sight of him—hard and ready for me. I find myself licking my lips unconsciously.

A grin kicks up the corner of his mouth. “You can touch it. I want you to.”

Heat flashes through me as I reach out, my fingers tentatively brushing over his rigid length. He inhales sharply at the contact, his hips rocking forward involuntarily. Emboldened by his reaction, I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly.

“Like this?” I ask, my voice husky with desire.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” he groans, his eyes nearly rolling back.

I explore him for a few moments, enjoying the power of drawing such reactions from him, before he gently removes my hand and presses me back against the pillows. His intention is clear as he kisses a path down my body, and nervous anticipation builds within me.

He takes his time, lavishing attention on my breasts, my stomach, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. When he reaches the apex of my thighs, he looks up, silently asking permission.

“Yes,” I whisper, my hips lifting in silent invitation.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties, slowly drawing them down my legs. And then I’m completely bare before him, exposed in every way. He settles between my thighs, and the first touch of his tongue against me draws a gasping cry from my lips.

“Declan,” I moan, my fingers threading through his hair.

He moves with deliberate patience, alternating between broad strokes and more targeted attention that makes my entire body tremble. Each circle of his tongue, each press against my most sensitive spot builds the tension coiling inside me. When he slides a finger inside, curling it in a way that hits a spot I didn’t even know existed, my hips buck involuntarily off the bed.

“Oh God, yes, right there,” I pant as he finds a rhythm that’s driving me rapidly toward the edge. A second finger joins the first, stretching me deliciously as his mouth continues its sweet torture.

The pressure builds to an almost unbearable point. I teeter there, breathless, muscles taut, desperate for release.

“Declan, I’m going to... I’m...”

My words dissolve into a cry as pleasure crashes over me like a tidal wave.

“Declaaaaaaaaan!”

My body arches off the bed, my fingers tightening in his hair as I shatter completely. He stays with me through every pulse of pleasure, gentling his touch but not stopping until the last aftershock has passed and I collapse back against the pillows, spent and panting.

He presses a final soft kiss to my oversensitive flesh before crawling back up my body. The satisfaction in his eyes as he takes in my flushed skin and dazed expression only adds to the glow spreading through me.

“You are so fucking sexy when you come,” he tells me, his voice gravelly with desire.

I reach for him, pulling him down into a searing kiss. The taste of myself on his tongue should be strange, but instead it’s wildly erotic. My hands roam his back, his shoulders, nails lightly scraping against his skin. He settles between my thighs, his hardness pressing against my wetness, and we both gasp at the contact.

“I need you,” I breathe against his lips, my hips rocking up in shameless invitation. “Please, Declan. I need you inside me.”

He holds my gaze for a breathless second. Then he thrusts forward—and all I can do is feel.