“Declan,” she said. Except it was almost an angry tone. As if she was willing to give him what he wanted but resented him for it.
He pulled out and thrust again and she cried out. Then his fingers moved from her hip to her soft wet pussy, lightly stroking her, feeling her arousal against his fingers.
“Yes, that’s very good,” he said, pumping into her with shallow thrusts. Giving her something but not everything. In many ways just like she’d done with him. “Now you’re going to give me the other words I want to hear.”
She pushed back against him, and for a moment he allowed that. Staying still, he just watched as she fucked herself against him. Then he pulled out and she screamed. Actually screamed her frustration.
“You fucking dickhead,” she cried out, pressing her face into the covers of the bed.
He smoothed his hand over her beautiful ass, while he let his fingers play with her pussy. Teasing, but offering no satisfaction. Not until he had what he wanted. Which was total capitulation.
“You’re right. I am. Except you love me and I want to hear you say it.”
“Ugh! Fine. I love you, you fucking dickhead. Now fuck me and make me come.”
Declan smiled in the darkened bedroom. Satisfaction filling his whole body, making his cock swell even more. “My lovely, you know what I’ve come to realize? You’ve got quite the potty mouth.”
That said he thrust into her again, this time with purpose. This time ready to take her where she needed to go. Where he needed to go. He held back nothing, thrusting into her hard, snapping his hips against her even as he reached for her hair, pulling it just enough that she had to lift her head, so he could hear her panting.
Her body shook under his, her tits jiggled and he took glee in knowing she was his. That she’d come for him. Claimed him in a way he’d never thought was possible.
“Ahhhh,” she cried and he could feel her body closing around him. Milking him for everything that he was. He came in a rush, thrusting into her as if he could impregnate her despite the condom she made him wear.
When it was over she collapsed underneath him and he came down on top of her. Holding his weight off her back, but maintaining their connection because he didn’t want to lose it.
He lowered his head and kissed the center of her back between her shoulder blades. “I love you,” he said quietly. So that she would hear it and feel it and know it was the truest thing he’d ever said.
“I love you too.”
That was it. No profanity. No anger. Just a realization that her feelings hadn’t changed no matter what he’d done to try and destroy them. Emotion overcame him and for the first time since he’d buried his mother, he wanted to cry. Just hold her to him and cry.
Of course he didn’t. Because he was big bad baddy and all of that. He slid out of her and left the bed.
“Dec?”
“I need to take a piss. I’ll be back.”
He discarded the condom, used the toilet and then turned the water on in the sink. Looking into the mirror, he thought how hard he worked to avoid being seen by cameras. It wasn’t that there weren’t pictures of him. As David Whitmore, he often attended events with paparazzi and press. But it was always the turn of a head. A hand in front of his face. The only time he’d actually been at risk had been on a damn kiss cam at a ball game when he’d had his tongue down Sinead’s throat.
Footage he had to recover himself from AT&T park.
When people asked for selfies, he refused with his standard line about how the camera steals the soul. The truth was Dec had always been glad that there were no pictures of him out there to see. Because when he looked at himself, he tended to only see the dark. He imagined any picture would show the same.
He splashed water on his face a few times and looked again. This time something was different. It was as if he’d been broken and put back together again, and somehow everything didn’t line up as smoothly as it should have. As if he had all these open gaps in him that he feared Sinead was the only one who could fill.
He looked in the mirror and could see her coming up behind him. He realized then he’d been standing at the sink for some time with his thoughts.
She slid her arms around his waist and repeated the gesture he’d given her and placed a soft kiss in the center spot between his shoulders.
“You okay?”
“I’m sorry I did that,” he said, the words rushing from him.
“Got me off?”
“Forced you to say it. I should have been patient. I should have waited until you were ready. I just…”
She pressed her cheek against his back. He thought he could feel her smiling, which was truly a lovely thing. “You are just a softy who needs to hear the words. Like anyone in love. And you didn’t force me to say anything. If I hadn’t wanted to say it, I wouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t joking about how stubborn O’Haras can be.”