“Oh my God.”
She clenches my hair hard enough to make me wince a little, but immediately lets go as though she’s sensed my pain, clutching the sheet instead and panting hard.
Holy shit. My dirty dreams have been hot, but having her underneath me for real is a million times better. She smells so delicious, and her responses are what fantasies are made of.
My cock throbs. Twin desires—to drive into her or tease her more—war within me. Then, suddenly, I know what I want to do.
I slide down her body, my mouth leaving a wet trail on her belly and below. I want a taste of her most intimate flesh. Right now.
My hands on her thighs, I spread her wide, exposing her to me. The light in my room is barely bright enough to show me how pretty she is down there. I make a mental note to take another look in the morning and run my tongue against her softness.
She lets out a strangled scream, her whole body going taut. Blood roaring in my head with the need to push her higher, I lick, suck and invade her flesh, lapping up the sweet juices from her body. The muscles underneath my hands tense, her pelvis grinding against my face. I growl my approval of her wantonness. I want to use my mouth to make her feel good. Drive her into that hot climax she’s craving so badly.
I move my tongue faster, push two fingers into her molten heat. It only takes a couple of good, hard thrusts before she clenches around me, her body twisting as an orgasm grips her.
I revel in the sound coming out her throat, the roughness of her breathing, the way her body goes rigid, then slowly loosens as she comes down from her high. When I move up, she’s gazing up at me, her face soft in afterglow. I lick my lips for a last taste of her, then reach into the nightstand for a condom.
Once covered, I lay myself down on top of her and kiss her. I feel like a lovestruck teenager doing it for the first time, desperate to make it special and good for the girl I’m with. She lays a hand on my cheek, cradling my face like it’s the most precious thing in the world. A gentle feeling I can’t name pierces the raging lust, and my heart accelerates faster, like it’s about to break out of its ribcage.
My muscles so tightly wound I’m almost shaking, I inhale deeply to strengthen my control and push into her. It’s better than anything I’ve ever fantasized about. She’s so damn hot and tight around me, and she envelops me perfectly, like she was created only for me.
Her name is a chant on my lips as I drive into her over and over again, watching her reaction to every one of the long thrusts. Her fingers dig into my shoulders. I feel an orgasm barreling toward me as I increase the pace and power of my drive. I take her breast and pinch the nipple between my fingers, tugging, wanting her to go over with me.
“Declan!”
My name tears from her throat as she climaxes, spasming hard around my dick. My own orgasm slams into me, and I feel like I release everything in the universe.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Yuna
Light slowly invades, coming through my closed eyelids. Evolution has greatly failed humankind. If we were correctly adapted, no light would come through. Ever.
But I should probably get up. And shower. And get dressed. And have some coffee. Maybe even eat a little. So I can feel human again and go spoil Sebastian and Katherine later.
But right now, I can’t do any of that. Anything beyond lying down seems like too much effort.
Every muscle in my body is sore. It’s good sore, but I still don’t want to move. Besides, it’s Saturday. I’m entitled to lounge around.
I sense the mattress dip. My sluggish brain tries to figure out why for a moment, and I realize I’m in a bed that smells like… Well. Declan.
Declan. I should smile and tell him thanks for an amazing night, but it’s too much effort to open my eyes.
Besides, I need to try to think about what to say. It’s really hard with little sleep and no caffeine. Is it going to be weird if I ask him to leave me alone and come back in two hours, like when the time’s more reasonable? I’m okay with nine or ten. Actually, ten thirty.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Oh my God, his voice is so cheery. How can he be this perky in the morning? Isn’t it against some unwritten law of the universe or something?
And how can he not be sore and tired after last night? It’s sooooo unfair.
But my mother taught me well, so I mumble something against the pillow that could be interpreted as a greeting if you want to be loose about it.
“It’s already afternoon. It’s one.”
/>
“Am I supposed to care?” I turn my face just a little so I can enunciate.