Page 243 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

"I’m sorry for what I did. I truly am. I knew I had to hurt you to get you to leave me, but I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to do so.

How much it would hurt me to see you hurt.

And it was even worse knowing I was the one doing the hurting.

How every time I tried to convince you that I was the kind of person you were better off without, it felt like I was tearing my heart out and trampling it underfoot.

She blinks rapidly then tosses her head. “Is that your excuse for everything you did? Is that why you were in your house, in your bedroom, consoling her, when you knew I was on my way to see you?"

"It’s true. I told Giorgina I was home from the shoot, knowing she’d mention it to you. And I banked on your coming to talk with me, and I orchestrated it so you’d see us. But I had no idea she would be get so emotional and —"

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. Her green eyes flash. "You know what? Fuck that. And fuck you. And fuck whatever stupid idea you've come up with."

"Language," I growl.

"Typical double standard. You can swear aloud, but I can’t. Well, fuck that, too."

"It's only because your gorgeous mouth was made for other things, baby."

She blinks, then the meaning of my words sinks in. Color flushes her cheeks. "How dare you?"

She slaps her hands against my shoulders, and the touch of her sinks through my sweatshirt and into my skin. My cock twitches. She must sense the effect her touch has on me for she swallows. "Let me go, Declan."

"No. Not until you listen to what I have to say."

"No, you listen to me. You had your chance and you screwed it up, and I'll be damned if I’m going to let you do that to me again."

Bam-bam-bam. My heart slams into my ribcage.

My pulse rate speeds up. My insides seem to have been dumped into the blender, the way they’re vibrating with apprehension.

Fucking hell, from being at the top of my game to sinking to my knees and asking her to hear me out, I’ve swung from one end of the spectrum to the other.

I shove aside my unease and school my features into a look of disdain.

"If you don’t listen to me, it’s going to cost you. "

"A-n-d, there you are. For a second there, I wondered if you’d changed, but clearly not. You still measure your worth and mine in money and fame and influence."

I blink. "So do you."

"But not to the extent you do."

"I don’t know what you mean."

"Of course you don’t. You’ve still got your sights on your career goals. On being number one. On becoming the most popular star in the world."

I lower my chin to my chest. "I’ve never shied away from my ambitions."

"And you’ve assumed it means as much to me to be the most popular in my field."

"And it did. You were hidden away by your family. You weren’t given the opportunities to find out who you were.

You didn’t have the means to share your voice with the world.

I gave you that chance. That springboard to showcase your talent to the world.

To bare yourself and strike that chord with people who understood you. "

She swallows. "And I’m grateful for that.

If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have embraced who I truly am.

I wouldn’t have discovered how much I love to perform, how much I thrive on being on the same wavelength as my fans.

How much I adore being able to share my creativity, my passion, my everything with the world, and have them reciprocate, but—"

"But?" I growl.

"But I don’t want it to the extent you do.

I’m not willing to sacrifice my truth, who I am, my words, the inherent reason why I began singing in the first place.

I don’t want to change who I am to fit in with the concept of what the world thinks I should be.

I don’t want a label dictating what I should sing.

I don’t want a partner who thinks he needs to protect me from whatever depraved tastes he has in sex. "

I lurch back. "The fuck you talking about?"

Her lips curve a little. "You think I don’t know how much you enjoy S&M? That you need to be dominant? That you thrive on seeing me submit to you? You think I didn’t understand that the first time I went to the Club? You think I don’t enjoy you being in charge?"

"You don’t know what you’re saying."

"Then tell me. Tell me why you had to go to such lengths, pretending to be engaged to someone else, knowing it would upset me and I’d break things off with you?"

I begin to rise to my feet, but she grabs hold of my arm. "Oh, no. You don’t get to leave without talking to me."

I glare at where her fingers are locked around my wrist, then back at her. Her features pale, but she doesn’t falter. Interesting. Apparently, the little rabbit has found her mettle.

"Let go of me."

"No."

"Don’t defy me."

She tips up her chin. "What’re you going to do, eh? Spank me?"

My gaze narrows. My balls throb. The thought of throwing her over my lap, revealing the creamy curve of her arse, then stamping her with my palm print sends my pulse rate through the roof.

"You’d better be careful about what comes next from your mouth, baby."

She makes a rude noise at the back of her throat. "You’re all talk and no action, baby."

My vision tunnels. Adrenaline laces my blood.

At the same time, a quiet descends on me.

This, right here, is where I'm meant to be. Regardless of the issues with my career and hers, we’re meant to be together.

It’s why I swallowed my pride to come to her.

It’s why I’m going to find a way to resurrect her popularity and mine.

It’s why… I’m going to give her one last chance to escape.

I bend and peer into her eyes. "You’d better hop away, Rabbit. "

She blinks rapidly.

"Wh-whatever do you mean?"

In her eyes is the knowledge that she’s toying with me. That she’s aware I’m dangerously close to the edge. That she’s pushing me until I snap, but that she’s past caring. So am I.

"If you don’t try to escape, you’ll always rue that you didn’t even try."

She tips up her chin. "I’m not scared of you."

"You should be."

She leans forward until her nose bumps mine. "I’m. Not. Running."

"Neither. Am. I."

Those golden flecks in her eyes glow. Her pupils dilate until there’s only a circle of emerald around the pupils.

"Last chance."

She pulls back her lips. "Vaffanculo stronz—"

The next second she gasps, for I’ve pulled my hand from her grasp, gripped her waist and flipped her over so she’s kneeling on the sofa.

"What the fuck—!"

"You will watch your language around me."

"Go fuck yourself, you—"

I flip up the hem of the dress, which is too fucking short—and which I need to have a word with her about—but for now, it gives me easy access to her butt.

I yank down her panties and spank her.

She yells, tries to jump off, but I flatten my palm in the small of her back. "If you want me to stop, use your safe word."

"I don’t have one, you testa di cazzo."

And that’s the problem. "Choose one now."

She hesitates.

"You know what that is, thanks to your smutty books, so don’t pretend otherwise. Choose. A. Safe. Word. Rabbit. Now."

"Unlucky," she bursts out.

Is this a reference to the good luck charms I’ve been sending her before each of her shows? The ones she’s wearing attached to the bracelet on her wrist.

"Repeat it."

"Unlucky, you bastard."

I spank her butt again. She huffs.

"Use it if you really want me to stop, you get me?"

She nods, and I apply enough pressure on her back that she bends. She grips the cushioned backrest, then places her cheek between her hands.

"Hold on."

"What are you going to—" She gasps again, for I’ve slipped my fingers inside her.

"Oh, my god." She moans, then pushes back so her pussy slides up the length of my digits. I curve my fingers and her entire body jolts. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god."

I slap her butt. "Not even God can save you, Rabbit."

"Fuck you, you pezzo di merda, you—"

I slide my thumb inside her puckered hole.

She stiffens and falls silent.

Finally, fuck.

I push my fingers in and out of her sopping wet channel, and a groan falls from her lips.

A fat drop of cum slides down her inner thigh, then another.

"Fucking hell, you’re making a mess for me aren’t you, baby?

You love my fingers inside you. You adore my cock in you.

You can’t wait for me to take your arse, can you? "

She groans, and mumbles something under her breath.

"What was that?"

I said, "Fuck you, arsehole."

I smirk. "What's that? Fuck your arsehole?"

She scowls at me over her shoulder. Her blue hair flows over one eye.

The other one is fixed on me. A mixture of lust, need, and anger.

Fucking hell. The sass in her. The way she stands up to me, dares me, challenges me to punish her, and then gives in to me…

The entire cycle is an aphrodisiac that goes straight to my head, my heart and my balls.

Every part of me wants her. Her scent. Her taste. Her anger. Her hate. Her love.

She must notice the emotions on my face, for her eyebrows draw down. "What’s wrong?"

I swallow, then school my features into a scowl. "What’s wrong is that you’re still talking instead of orgasming."

Her gaze widens. "Wha—"

I remove my fingers from her, then push my face into her pussy.