Page 1 of Clubs

LATE MARCH, 2003

BROOKE

Fuck, the skill of this man.

Declan had me pinned to the wall, airborne aside from his hips pressed into mine. One of his hands was on my inner thigh, thumb on my clit while he kissed my neck.

His lips trailed down my chest, hooking around the button on my dress. Some people judged the ability of a man’s tongue by whether they could tie a cherry stem with it. What about unbuttoning a shirt with it? Was that expert level?

He thrusted again, so deep that I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming.

“Don’t hold back.” He squeezed my hip, lips drifting to my nipple. He flicked his tongue a time or two. Then he bit me.

“Declan!”

He laughed, leaning back to meet my gaze. The hand that’d been on my hip came to my neck, thumb tugging my bottom lip downward as he applied just a little more pressure on my clit. “Brooke.”

“That…” Another heavy sigh of pleasure, dropping my head against the concrete wall behind me.

“What’s that?”

Almost unable to breathe, overwhelmed with the euphoria of his touch, the taste of whiskey from his tongue, I barely made out, “It hurt.”

“But that little squeal was adorable.” A kiss on my lips, this one softer than the last, despite his rhythmic thrusts quickening. “I love the noises you make. And you love that little touch of pain.”

It was hard to argue when my legs were trembling, and it was taking every bit of willpower I had to keep from screaming.

But whether he liked it or not, I would continue swallowing those moans, no matter how badly they wanted to escape. Because behind Declan’s head was a big glowing sign that read Spades.

We were in the bathroom of his bar. And sure, I adored a bit of exhibitionism here and there. But I didn’t like the looks the middle-aged bikers gave me when I went back to the bar for a drink. And I really didn’t like the fact that my moans were what those men would be thinking about when they went home.

“They can fantasize all they want,” Declan whispered between kisses. “But I’m the only one who gets to touch.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Stay out of my head.”

He smiled, tucking some hair behind my ear. “If you keep trying to be quiet, I’m gonna make you scream.”

In any other setting, I would’ve shot him a glare. But he acted on his threat before I had the chance, moving his fingers so much faster, thrusting in harder, bracing me against his chest when I collapsed forward.

There was no use in fighting it.

Burying my face into his neck, locking my arms around his strong shoulders, a deep moan muffled from my lips into his ear.

“There ya go,” he murmured, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck. “Again.”

Maybe I was masochistic, or maybe I was just playing into his game when I said, “Make me.”

He stopped.

He stopped thrusting. He stopped kissing. He may have even stopped breathing.

Pulling back to meet my gaze, Declan arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

Yep. This was his game, and I was playing.

Fighting a smile, I said, “Make. Me.”

He let out a half laugh and squinted me over. “And I was just about to say you were being such a good girl.”

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