Page 34 of Declan

“No, no you don’t,” I snap, trying to stay steady, meeting his gaze with my coldest stare. But my heart betrays me, racing as his breath dances against my skin.

He presses himself closer, and I stifle a whimper that almost escapes my lips. I can feel the heat of his muscles, his body melding with mine.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks his tone a mix of amusement and desire, his fingers gliding over my skin like a tease, making goosebumps rise in their wake. “Because I think you’re trembling with excitement?”

I swallow hard, trying to block out the way he makes me feel. “You wish, Irish boy,” I retort, smirking, trying to maintain control.

But as he leans in, his lips hovering near the curve of my neck, my thoughts scatter. His warm breath fans my skin, urging me to lean into him. Instead, I try to press into the wall behind me, but the motion only makes him chuckle— a low, husky sound that stirs something deep within me.

“Firecracker, I don’t need to wish. I can see it written all over your face. And that ‘Irish boy’ remark? You’ll pay for that,” he grunts as he tilts his head.

His gaze pins me like I’m his prey, and he’s the big bad wolf trying to control his hunger. “You want this. Your entire body is screaming for my touch.” I press my lips together and shake my head.

“You’re so delusional, Declan,” I finally chuckle, but my entire body vibrates under him as I feel his muscles coil, pressing me harder against the wall. His fingers still hold my wrists above me, his thumb drawing little circles that make every part of me feel unbearably sensitive.

“So, I’m delusional, am I?” He licks his lips, his eyes fixed on mine, making my breath hitch. “No part of you wants this?” His lips are just an inch from mine.

I let out a breathy “no,” but he only smirks, his fingers tightening on my wrists now.

“Really?” His free hand travels down; he pulls the end of my shirt up, his fingers caressing my bare skin.

I feel the goosebumps on my stomach as his hand slides, reaching my panties; he plays with the fabric and the little bow on top of them.

He moves even lower, reaching my pussy; his pointer finger slides into the wet spot, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my rib cage.

“You are right, firecracker; you aren’t wet,” he pauses as his finger caresses my pussy. “You are fucking soaking,” he presses his finger harder.

“Declan,” I hum, letting my head fall back to the wall.

“Declan, what? Use your words, Viv.” His voice is deep and menacing, and as his finger moves my panties to the side, I can feel his touch on my bare skin, his thumb pressing on my swollen clit as his pointer finger gets dangerously close to my entrance.

“Tell me what you want.” I rock into his hand, my body reacting on its own to his touch. He moves his thumb faster.

“I—” my voice faltering.

I need to tell him to stop, but I don’t want to! I want him to finish what he started, but there is no way in hell I will tell him that.

“You what, Viv?” His pointer finger presses on my entrance, and I move my hips down, trying to put him where I need him to be.

He inserts just the tip of his finger, his tongue licking and biting the soft spot on my neck, his breathing ragged.

“Fuck.” His voice rumbles on his pecs, his muscles tense underneath me, and I want to touch him; I want to pull him closer. I squirm to free my arms, but he tightens his grip, keeping them pinned above me.

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Be a good girl and stay still.”

The pressure increases on my clit, and I can feel my liquid heat pouring into his hands.

“Goddamn, Vi,” he murmurs darkly. I look down and see his sweatpants with a wet spot of pre-cum.

Shit, I want to touch him so badly; I want to lick his hard cock so much. My hips jolt as his thick finger slides inside my walls, and I bite my bottom lip, stifling a grin like a bitch in heat.

He chuckles a low, predatory sound. ‘So needy,’ he rasps, his voice rough, like a wolf closing in. He thrust his finger in and out while his thumb moved in circles on my clit, my breathing is ragged, my legs trembling as he pulls my arms higher, pressing his body into mine, trapping me between him and the wall.

He inserts another finger, and I almost scream his name. Instead, I bite the inside of my cheek, suppressing the sound. His thrusts become faster, harder, each movement driving me closer to the edge.

My inner walls clench around his fingers, the sensation pulling me toward a release that feels dangerously close. The air around us is thick, and my senses are blurred. Every touch ignites a spark, pushing me closer to the brink of something pure, consuming, and just out of reach.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you, firecracker?” His voice is a low purr, a sinister caress—seductive yet edged with a quiet threat. It makes my pulse quicken in warning.

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