Page 80 of Declan

I open my legs and lean onto the desk, giving him all access to me. His eyes travel all over my body; I can see the heat in his gaze. Just his eyes alone, that hunger in them, is enough to shoot warm pleasure right into my core.

He positions his cock at my entrance, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Tell me you’re mine, Viviana. “His voice drops an octave, rough and commanding, and every word is dripping with something feral.

For a moment, I can’t respond, lost in the darkness of his eyes. His pupils are so blown they look like endless pits, pulling me under, swallowing me whole.

“I’m yours, Declan,” my voice falters. His eyes remain fixed on me as he shoves inside, making me yelp in pleasure.

“Fucking mine, firecracker,” he growls, thrusting with each word while his finger circles my clit. He has the hands of a goddamn god—or maybe the Devil.

Definitely the Devil.

“Declan,” I murmur breathlessly. Just his name on my lips makes his body tremble. His control snaps and I feel his hard cock twisting inside me.

God, he feels so good—his size, his thickness, every inch of him claiming me. My arousal flows like lava, and he slides in and out, maintaining a relentless pace that drives me higher and higher without letting me fall over the edge.

“Your cunt feels so fucking good around my cock,” he grunts. “I can’t get enough of you; you’re addictive.” His lips crash into my neck, biting and kissing, leaving a trail of bruises that feel like his permanent mark.

He straightens, his hand gripping my throat. He is still inside me. “Tap my leg if you need it,” he commands, his voice thick with lust and dominance.

I glare at him, and he winks. He fucking winks. Then his grip tightens, just enough to send a thrilling shiver down my spine. He begins to thrust again, each movement so powerful my body slides on the desk. His free hand grabs me, pulling me closer, ensuring I don’t go anywhere.

My body stiffens—a mix of fear and pleasure. The control he exerts, his sheer dominance, makes me melt. He tightens his hold again, and I whimper, my walls clenching around his cock.

Spots dance in my vision as I gasp for air. He releases his grip slightly, just enough for me to draw a shaky breath, before gripping me again. My orgasm builds rapidly, the tension tightening every nerve in my body. I moan, and the darkness flirts with my vision again. My nipples ache, and I feel as if my body is on fire.

“That’s it, firecracker, come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice like a dark promise. “I want to feel your cunt come all over my cock before I fill you up.” His thumb presses on my clit, circling with perfect pressure.

My body detonates like dynamite, my release ripping through me in waves. I scream his name, my vision blurring as pleasure consumes me. He pounds into me, drawing out every last tremor of my climax.

His release follows a deep, guttural roar as his thick warmth fills me. For a moment, I think I’ve blacked out because when I come to, I’m cradled in his lap, his suit jacket draped over me.

“You tap my leg or say the safe word before you actually pass out,” he teases, his lips tugging into a soft smile as he strokes my hair.

I nuzzle into his chest, his scent—a mix of sex and cologne—wrapping around me. “Sorry,” I whisper, my voice weak.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “We’ll work on that later.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, grounding me in his warmth.

There’s a sense of security in his arms, the way his heart beats steadily under me. It feels like a storm at bay, fierce but contained.

I’m on the edge of sleep when the sharp ding of my phone jolts me awake. Glancing at the screen, my stomach drops.

Find out the next shipment.

Giovanni.

I glance at Declan, whose face hardens. The warmth from earlier vanishes, replaced by something cold and lethal.

“And so it begins,” he murmurs, his devilish smirk curling as his eyes glint with danger. He looks deadly now—a predator ready to strike.

I’m sitting in the living room when Connor settles beside me, offering a soft smile. He’s definitely the sweetest of the Callaghan brothers. He’s gotten more comfortable around me now, though if I get too close or tease him, the telltale redness creeps up his neck, which always makes me giggle. At least he doesn’t avoid me anymore.

“This is where the shipment will arrive—dock 4, at half past midnight. It’ll carry 120 guns,” he explains, pointing to a map spread out on the table, along with a stack of papers I can’t make sense of. His face searches mine as if to reassure me. “Don’t worry; we’ve made sure everyone will be safe.”

I nod. “So, I just text my father that?” I ask, glancing at the papers.

“Take pictures of these and send them to him,” Declan says from behind me, his signature black suit and whisky glass in hand. His tone is casual, but his presence fills the room. “And don’t forget to mention how hard it was to get this info and how you were almost caught,” he adds with a wink.

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