Page 230 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

I thrust up and into her. Her gaze widens. And again. And again. Color flushes her cheeks. Her pupils dilate, her breathing intensifies, and that pulse at the base of her throat goes into overdrive. Fucking hell.

I squeeze down on her hips, knowing I’m going to mark her.

Hoping I mark her. Wanting her to carry my imprint on her skin.

I hold her in place then, once again, drill up and inside her.

I hit that part deep inside her that I know sends her over the edge, and she doesn’t disappoint.

Her lips part. A low keening sound emerges.

I instantly lock my mouth over hers and absorb it.

I keep my eyes open and stare into hers as I, once again, spear into her.

Her entire body shudders. Her pussy clamps down on my dick, and her thighs tremble.

She holds onto my shoulders, her fingertips digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt, and I know then, she’s marked me, too.

I slide my palms down her butt and tease the puckered hole between her arse cheeks.

Her eyes grow enormous. She begins to pant, tries to writhe away, but I hold her in place.

I slide my finger inside her back hole, then push up into her again.

Her back curves. She thrusts out her breasts.

I bite down on her lower lip, and she moans.

I curve my finger inside her back channel, then push my dick up and into her, increasing my pace, hitting that part at her very core, again and again and—

"Dec-lan, I’m going to—"

"Come with me, baby."

She groans. Her eyes roll back in her head.

Moisture bathes my shaft. I thrust into her one last time, then pull her up and off my cock before I come.

Threads of white paint her chest, her throat, her breasts.

She begins to slump, but I hold her upright, then massage my cum into her breasts, and across the skin of her stomach.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

I drag my cum stained fingers across her lips.

She flicks out her tongue and wipes them clean.

And when she finally looks up, I brush my mouth over hers, tasting myself on her.

The blend of her taste with mine goes straight to my head.

My cock thickens again, pressing into her lower belly.

She chuckles, and the sound ignites my nerve-endings.

"Ready to go again so soon?"

I pull her closer, and she snuggles into me.

I tuck her head under my chin, breathe in her sweet scent.

She yawns, and her eyelids flutter down.

Outside, the sights of Central London flash by.

I grew up here, skipping classes and hanging out with my friends, first in the coffee shops, and then in the pubs of Soho.

Now, I'm driving through it with a woman I won’t let myself keep in my arms.

"What are you doing in London?" I finally ask.

She yawns so widely, I hear her jaw crack.

"I had to meet a label. Also, I wanted to see you."

"You’ve seen me now."

"Umm, I’d say we’ve more than seen each other." Her lips curve in a smile.

"When does your tour begin?"

She stills. "How do you know about the tour?"

"I may not have been physically in LA. Doesn’t mean I don’t know what's happening."

She digests this, then asks, "You’re in touch with Harry?"

"Also," I admit.

"And Rick’s been updating you?"

"You know he is."

Her muscles stiffen. She tries to push off my lap, but I don’t let her go. It’s okay to hold her for a few more seconds, isn’t it?

"That’s why you left him behind? So he could spy on me?" she snaps.

"I left him behind to protect you."

"Why do I need protection?"

"Because you’re new talent in LA. You don’t know how the system works."

"And Rick does?"

"I do."

She looks at me. "So he is spying on me."

"He’s keeping me posted on your whereabouts, so I can make sure no one takes advantage of you."

Her forehead crinkles. "So, if I’m meeting someone who you think is going to 'take advantage' of me"—she makes air quotes—"you, what? Call them and threaten them?"

I glance out the window.

I sense her taking in my features. The silence stretches. A beat. Another. Then, "Oh my god, you do call and threaten them, don’t you?"

"I call them, yes, and let them know you’re with me."

"That I’m your kept girl? Your mistress? Your lay?"

"My girlfriend," I correct her.

She shakes her head. "You confuse me, you know that? You fuck me and leave without a word, except for this." She holds up her hand.

I touch the silver bracelet encircling her wrist, the one I left on my pillow after spending the night with her in my bed in LA.

"You barely call me, but you ensure you’re there to run interference in case anyone is being an asshole to me."

"I’m invested in making your career a success," I murmur.

"You say I’m your girlfriend—"

"For the benefit of the media," I remind her.

She balks, but continues, "—but you don’t stay in touch with me."

I look down at where my dick is nestled against her, then up at her face.

"That’s not what I mean, and you know it," she exclaims.

"This is the life of an actor. I go where the shooting is. I need to be on set for months at a time. I need to get under the skin of the character to give it my all."

"And what do I get?"

I stay silent.

"An occasional fuck in the car, is that it?"

"It is what it is. Besides, soon you’ll be touring and on the road for weeks on end."

She doesn’t reply, but something in her eyes makes my breath catch.

There’s a softness, that just-fucked heaviness in her eyes, a lazy contentment that clings to her features that I put there.

Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is in a cloud about her shoulders.

She looks exquisite, gorgeous, a siren who’s ensnared me. She looks like she’s mine.

"Declan…" She swallows. "Ask me."

I hold her gaze, unable to look away.

"Please, ask me. Ask me to come with you."

"I can’t," I murmur.

"You can; you just don’t want to."

The car pulls onto the highway and the city zips past.

"You’re right. I’m not that selfish. Your career is just starting. Your voice is just beginning to be recognized. You’re only just starting your journey." The one I can’t accompany you on. "I may not be there with you in person, but I’ll always be there to ensure you don’t take a wrong step."

"I’d rather be with you," she whispers. She sniffles, and my heart feels like it’s going to break.

My fingers itch to wipe away her tears, but I resist. This is good.

This is right. This is how it should be.

I shouldn’t have fucked her but… enclosed with her in this tiny space, it was bound to happen.

I need to find a way to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

I need to find a way to put distance between us, so come what may, neither of us is tempted to repeat this mistake.

"You’ll see, in retrospect, this was the right thing to do."

"What was?" She frowns up at me.

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ears, then reach down and retrieve her clothes. "You need to get dressed."

She looks at me for a second longer, before reaching for the tissues in the car. She wipes herself then pulls on her clothes. I tuck myself back in, zip myself up. When I glance up, she’s looking at me with parted lips. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing slightly erratic.

"Fucking hell, Rabbit, don’t look at me like that." I pull her into my side. When she snuggles in, I dip my chin and kiss the top of her head.

She pushes her nose into my armpit and breathes deeply.

I laugh. "You sure you want to do that?"

"You always smell delicious."

"Yeah?" I chuckle.

"Like a dark chocolate drink laced with coffee," she replies with a nod.

“Right now, I smell like a brewery.”

“The whiskey does add a certain appeal; it goes right to my head.”

“That’s my proximity making you dizzy, baby.”

She scoffs, “I forget how big your ego is.”

I open my mouth, and she holds up a hand. “Nope, no cheap shots about what else is big.”

“You said it.” I grin down at her.

She peers up at me and a small smile curves her lips. We look at each other for a few seconds until the car pulls to a stop. She’s the first to break the connection. When she glances out the window at the jet parked on the tarmac, she looks confused.

"Are we at your private jet?" When I don’t reply, she turns to me, her eyes sparkling. "Where are we going?"

"We're not going anywhere."

Her shoulders slump, and she looks away. "You’re leaving?"

"I had less than forty hours off. I need to get back."

She swallows. "How long is the shoot going to be for?"

"Eight months."

She gapes at me. "Did you say eight months?"

I nod.

"And when were you going to tell me that?"

She sees the guilty expression on my face.

Not that I try to hide it, to be honest. I could have, if I’d wanted to, but a part of me wants her to see I'm doing it on purpose. This is the only way for her to realize the kind of man I am. She'll never come first. And what a load of bull that is. She is first. She deserves better; it’s why I’m doing my best to push her away. If only she’d understand that.

Her face falls. She seems stricken for a few seconds, then recovers enough to swipe out her arm.

I’m anticipating it, so I grab her wrist and stop her palm from connecting with my face.

I twist it behind her back and haul her close enough that I can make out the specks of gold in her eyes.

"It’s my prerogative what I share and don’t share with you about my life, do you understand? "

"Fuck you."

"Not for a long time." I release her, then shove open the door. My heart hurts; there’s a band around my ribcage getting tighter by the second. I slam the door shut behind me.

Rick’s standing there, his gaze narrowed on me. He opens his mouth, and I shake my head. "Not right now."

"You don’t deserve her," he snaps.

I laugh. "You’re preaching to the converted."

I stalk toward the jet, intent on embarking it and flying the fuck out of here.

Still, I’m not so distracted that I don’t hear the tap of her footsteps behind me.

I turn just as she throws herself at me.

I catch her, swing her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. "Don’t go. Please, don’t go. Don’t do this."

I push my forehead into hers. "I have to."

"You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to choose this way of life.” She swallows. “You can stay here with me, Declan. You can make that choice.”

And I almost do. I almost say 'fuck off' to the movie shoot and damn the consequences. Almost. As I look into her tear-filled eyes, my heart stutters. My stomach ties itself in knots. I lower my forehead to hers, and for a few seconds, we look into each other’s eyes.

In that moment, I know, if I decide to stay, my life will change.

Everything I’ve worked for, all of the challenges I’ve overcome, will be for nothing.

And… I can’t do that. And I can't take her with me. It would destroy her burgeoning career, and I can't do that to her. This is her dream. Besides, I’m not the man for her. I’m not the person she thinks I am.

I’m not the younger version of myself she met.

The one she’s never forgotten. The one she’s in love with.

I’ve changed. And so has she. And she needs to understand that.

"I choose—” You. My voice cracks. A ball of emotion blocks my throat. I manage to swallow it away, then firm my shoulders. “I—” I swallow. “I choose to leave."

I lower her to her feet and take a step back. As I straighten, I see the intent in her eyes, see her raise her arm. And this time, I have no intention of stopping her. Because I deserve it. Her palm connects with my face the same time as a flashbulb goes off.

"Motherfucker."

I feel her palm print on my cheek, and a sliver of pain threads through my blood. I welcome it. I deserve her hate. I deserve her slapping me. And so much more.

I step around her and close the distance to the pap who continues to click away. Fucking feeders of the lowest order. I grab his camera from his hand and raise it, intent on smashing it on the tarmac.

The man yells as Rick grabs my arm. "Don’t, man. You’ll only make it worse."

The journo’s lips twist. "Lover’s quarrel, huh?"

"Fuck off."

His grin widens. "Is that your comment?"

"Oh, I have a comment for you." I grab his collar with my free hand, haul him close to my face and snarl, "Come near her again, and I swear, I’ll kill you."