“Please, Declan. Just fuck me. I want you inside of me. I want to feel you in my pussy. I want all of you filling me up,” I tell him, giving him all the words I feel he wants to hear so that we can get this over with.
And with that, I hear his pants hit the floor from behind me as I sit on my knees, waiting for his next move, and then it comes.
His hand grabs a fist of my hair as he shoves my face back down into the mattress. Letting go, he widens my knees, ass up, and then gives my pussy one last lick before he buries himself balls deep into my core, forcing me to slip forward on the bed. He quickly grabs my wrists that are stationed at the small of my back and holds them firmly with one hand while the other fists the belt.
I turn my head face down in the bed, and do what I can to disengage, but his voice keeps penetrating me as he talks, forcing me to tell him that I want him, that I want this, that I like this, that it feels good. I can’t escape. I’m in the moment. I’m never in the moment, but right now, I’m in the goddamn moment, and the churning of my stomach begins to rouse into a disgusting rumble of bile I pray stays down.
“Let go, Nina. Stop fighting me,” he says, as if he knows I’m trying with everything I have not to come. My body is so tense; I’m an idiot to think he can’t feel it. He’ll know if I fake it, but I keep fighting anyway. “Don’t fight me,” he hisses, his accent thickening as his desire grows. He then reaches around, dragging the wetness up to my clit, and starts massaging in slow, torturous circles. He has no idea he’s destroying everything inside of me.
I hold my breath and bite down hard. I can’t deny him what he’s demanding. He’ll ask too many questions, questions I can’t ever answer for him, so I give in and allow him to give me the repulsive pleasure I hate to feel. It builds along with the bile, and when his cock swells inside of me with his oncoming release, I break. And out of nowhere, he makes a tender gesture when he laces his fingers with mine and holds my hand while I come. The orgasm takes over my body in ripples of fiery explosions that shoot through every inch of me. I can’t suppress the moans that rip out of me, humiliating me, and then they’re joined with Declan’s as his orgasm mirrors mine. The feel of his cock throbbing inside of me as my walls spasm around him prolongs the release I wish would stop, but it quakes through me, holding me hostage to the man behind me. Our hands locked tightly together the whole time, as if he knows how hard this is for me and this is his way of offering a gentle support.
A second later, he lets go of me, and with fast hands, releases his belt from my arms, and they drop lifelessly to the bed as his body collapses on top of mine. I can’t look at him. I can’t even open my eyes. As my orgasm fades away, the pleasure between my legs remains as a reminder as to what just happened. I have to pull my shit together—fast—as Declan shifts to my side and brings me into his arms.
I tuck my knees up, and when I do, he cradles me in his hold, humming into my ear. I focus on his sounds to calm my racing heart and queasy gut. Taking in slow, deep breaths, I wonder how I’m going to get through sex with him again. I’m too exposed—too alive—too hot—too ripe—too present. I want to cry, but I don’t, so I lay my head on Declan’s chest and selfishly take the comfort he’s offering because I don’t have any other options here. He holds me, soothing me with the lull of his hums as I listen to his steadying heartbeat.
“Talk to me,” he requests.
“I don’t feel like talking.”
“I need you to talk to me. Tell me why you were fighting me.”
“I wasn’t,” I try to deny.
Turning on his side to face me, he wraps his hand behind my knee and drapes my leg over his hip, bringing us closer, when he says, “I felt you, Nina. I need you to talk to me. Did I scare you?”
Yes.
“No.”
“Did I hurt you?”
Yes.
“No.”
“Then what?” he asks softly with worry etched in the lines of his face.
Trying to relieve whatever is running through his head, I wrap my arms around his neck, hug him close, and tell him, “You’re just really intense, and I guess . . . yeah . . . maybe you scared me a little.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, shifting his forehead to rest against mine. “Look at me.”
When I open my eyes, his are peering into mine, noses together, so close.
“I never want to scare you. I never want to hurt you. I only want to be close with you, but this is the only way I know how to be.”
“You don’t have to apologize for who you are,” I faintly breathe. “This. Being here in your arms. I’ve never felt more safe. So just hold me, okay?”
And he does, for a long time, while I try to get my head straight. We just hold each other, and then after a while, he takes my hand, and licks my palm before kissing it and then presses it to his chest.
“You consume me, you know that?”
I shake my head, saying, “I assumed I annoy you most of the time.”
“You do,” he laughs. “Your smart mouth irritates me, but it’s also something I love about you. You don’t take my shit, and I like that. But at the same time, I need you to be able to take my shit. I’m demanding and stubborn; that’s not something I’m willing to change because I thrive on control.”
“Why?”
He releases a deep breath, telling me, “Let’s not talk about why. Not tonight.”
“One day?”
“One day, darling,” he says as he pulls me in closer to his naked body. “Can you stay with me tonight?”
“Mmm hmm. Bennett’s in Miami for a few days. I’m yours until he gets back.”
Leaning his head back to look me dead on, his voice is acid when he says, “No.”
“No?”
“You’re mine regardless of where he is. Here or not. I don’t play well with others.”
I hesitate for a second and then say, “It’s not that simple. He’s not like he appears, Declan.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s just . . . It’s not easy.”
When he shakes his head in confusion, I repeat on a hush, “It’s just not that easy.”
His lips lightly brush over mine in a sweeping kiss, and I can taste the ice of his breath when he whispers, “I don’t expect anything with you to be easy, but that’s not enough to stop me from having you.”
And with those words, I kiss him, allowing him to feast on my sugary poison. He may have a power over me in bed, one that will no doubt cause me suffering, but in the end, I’ll take the pain because I know I’ll be able to destroy him enough to save myself, to give me everything that was stolen from me when I was five years old.
WAKING UP IN Declan’s bed the following day was peaceful. Peaceful in every morbid way. His hands were all over me while his face made its home between my legs before he pulled me on top of his lap. He had my arms crossed behind my back while he held each of my hands, locking my arms from moving as I fucked him. And again, he held my hands while I came. If I’m being honest, I feel like I need that support from him, because what he makes me feel during sex is sheer torment and anxiety. I don’t want sex to feel good. It shouldn’t feel good. But he doesn’t give me any other choice, so I lied to him, telling him that Clara was going to be at my place and that I needed to be there so she wouldn’t worry or question my whereabouts. I just needed to get away from him.
As soon as I get home, I take a scalding hot shower, washing every part of me, but nothing can clean me the way Pike can. I feel myself breaking and stop the fight long enough to let it out. Never in my life have I ever wanted to feel what Declan makes me feel. As images from last night and this morning run through my head, the tears surface as my stomach convulses in bubbles of putrid disgust. Unable to hold it down, I quickly step out of the shower, fall to my knees over the toilet, and vomit uncontrollably. It’s a painful mixture of saliva, puke, and tears. Visions of Declan, Carl, leather, flesh, cum, that filthy mattress, the smell of that basement, the smell of Declan, my vicious hate for Bennett, my loneliness of missing Pike, my father’s headstone. Everything consumes me. I hear it, smell it, see it, feel it, and then another forceful expulsion barrels its way up my throat and into the toilet.