Page 2 of Clubs

There was no denying the smile. It came to my lips, and it vanished just as quickly.

Before I realized what he was doing, my feet were on the floor. One of my heels gave out as he spun me around, pushing me against the porcelain sink. I tried to catch myself, but he grabbed my hands, twisted them behind me, and held them in place against my lower back. Just as the world stopped spinning, he fisted a hand in my hair and pushed it down, so I was only an inch or two from the mirror, able to see everything as he kicked my legs apart and plunged into me. He slammed against my G-spot with such force, such ferocity, that I couldn’t help but scream.

“There.” The hand in my hair released, coming to my clit. “I made you.”

I smirked. Until he pounded in again, this time so hard that I edged forward, banging my forehead on the mirror. Not enough that I wanted him to stop.

Not once had I asked Declan to stop, come to think of it.

His fingers found my clit. I expected him to start massaging again, but he pinched his index finger and forefinger together.

I screamed, and not in a good way.

“And again,” Declan said.

He went back to circling, which subdued the pain, filling me with pleasure instead. It rose and fell over me in waves, deep sighs easing from my lips, head rolling back with bliss.

“Are you gonna do as you’re told?” he asked, octave deepening. His fingers spread out around my clit, and I knew he was going to do it again. “Or are you—”

“Yes.” It left me as a high-pitched squeal, finally submitting because I couldn’t take it anymore. The game was fun, but only that. Fun. I wanted release. “Please don’t stop.”

He closed his fingers again, sliding them around my clit in that perfect rhythm he knew I loved. “Then behave.”

I whimpered, bracing for his next thrust as the euphoria of his massage took hold. When it came, when he pounded deep within me, I let the moan fall just as it would have if we were on his couch or in my bed.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, rewarding me with the freedom of my hands. Instead of letting them fall at my sides, he set one beside me. “Grab the sink.”

I wasn’t sure if my next moan was in anticipation or fear. But I did as I was told.

Just as I grabbed on, he thrusted in again. I screamed with bliss, meeting his gaze in the mirror as he bent forward for my face. Kissing my cheek, the hand that’d been pinning mine in place came to my neck. He squeezed, but not enough to cut off my air. Only tight enough to make it very clear who was ruling this scene.

The same one who always ruled the scene.

I’d tried to take charge, but it was useless. Never would a time come when I admitted I was a submissive person, but with Declan? Well, all he had to do was put his hand around my throat, tell me I was a good girl, and I’d do anything he told me to.

“Isn’t it easier when you don’t fight me?” he whispered in my ear.

“You love when I fight you.”

He huffed. There was annoyance there, but also admittance. As if to say, What fun would it be if you didn’t?

This was how things between us went. He pushed, I pulled. We fought, we bickered, then we did this until we were both lost in an orgasm-induced haze of euphoria, neither of us remembering why we’d been mad at each other in the first place.

It never really mattered anyway.

This was all that did.

Watching his face in the mirror, how beautiful his sepia skin sparkled when the sweat rolled down it, the hunger in those warm brown eyes, and their softness when they settled on me.

Fuck, I adored him.

Declan Caras had somehow taken over every part of my life in the last two years. He was who I thought of when I woke up in the mornings, who I fell asleep thinking about, and who I wanted to talk to when I read a new book I loved.

All that, combined with the fact that he fucked like a god…

“I’m gonna come,” I moaned.

“Go ahead,” he said in my ear, pulling my face up so I could see each kiss he gave my neck. “Be my good girl.”

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