Page 31 of Declan's Hope

Declan focused on following his suddenly unsteady fingers crawling beneath the band. Then he held his breath when his touch went lower. Damp, downy soft curls met the pads of his fingers, before they slid down further—sending a low, rumbling growl of pleasure through him at the wet heat coating his fingers.

His mouth went back to her breast—his free hand plumping the firm flesh. He'd longed for this. So he savored it all—each of Hope's shuddering sighs and then the long, "Ohhh…" when his fingers explored her slick, hidden flesh.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed to see that part of her.

Taste her.

Make her his own.

And he wanted that now.

So he left her breast and trailed his lips down the same path his hand had taken—the hand with his fingers currently rubbing circles around her clit. Above him, Hope panted while her one hand he could spy with his good eye gripped the pillow tight, then twisted it in her grasp when he barely dipped one finger into her tight channel.

What would it be like to have her body squeezing his cock while deep inside her? Even if he had both eyes, he doubt he’d be able to see straight. His hard dick pressing into the mattress was solid proof—no pun intended—of that want.

But not here, and not today.

Because when they gave themselves to each other—and he would be giving just as much as taking—it would be in a place fitting for someone like Hope. He would be fit for her. As Mercy might say...

Might?

He held in a grin. Hell, she had said it at every opportunity. And he finally had to agree with her. The time had come for him to get off this bullshit pity cruise he’d been on.

But now wasn’t the time for thoughts of Mercy or his life going forward. Now was all about Hope. And right now Hope was close to the edge. He just needed to tip her over it.

"Lift your ass," he murmured against her skin.

"Wha…" He met her dazed gaze staring down her body at him. "Do what?"

He reluctantly left the smooth heat meeting his fingers, then crushed the band of her panties in both hands before licking over the swell of flesh leading to her bellybutton. Her hips lifted into his caress enough he shimmied the still slightly wet cotton fabric down over her buttocks to the tops of her thighs. But no further when she clamped her legs tight.

He maneuvered his body down in the bed, his gaze leveling on blond hair—but not the strawberry blond of the hair on her head. This darker hair filled the juncture of her closed thighs. It looked like he needed to take this slowly. So he nuzzled his nose into all that damp hair—breathing her in. His cocked throbbed with need at his woman’s scent, while his mouth watered in anticipation of her taste.

A shuddering breath left her just as her thighs relaxed enough he could delve deeper—deep enough her hair tickled the tops of his cheeks as he lashed out his tongue and let it furrow through her folds.

His cocked jerked when her flavor burst over his tastebuds. Then he gathered more of it and groaned. How had he lived this long without her unique taste to feast on? Without her moaned, "Oh, oh, oh…" filling his ears?

Her thighs relaxed, and so he quickly sat up—his gaze going to her startled one—as he pulled her panties down her legs and then off. She didn’t look away from him while a deep breath filled her—one that left her on a slight moan.

Having her naked—finally—was something he needed to savor. And he did. From the tops of her feet, up her shapely calves, to her rounded thighs and hips, then the dips and valleys of her belly leading to her bountiful breasts. When he finally met her uncertain gaze, he couldn’t let her believe he found her wanting in any way. He had a living, breathing work of art deserving of worship laid out in front of him. And he needed her to understand that.

He also needed to stake his claim.

"Tell me, Hope." He held her unblinking, questioning stare as he pressed her knees apart. "Tell me I’m the only one who’s ever seen you like this." He moved his hands higher, letting the slow reveal of her widening thighs hold his attention until delicate pink flesh peeked out at him. His lids shut tight as he took in several calming breaths. Then he zeroed his burning gaze in on her wide eyes, growling out, "Tell me."

She nodded as another flush went over her body.

He caressed her thighs while easing his upper body between them. Her nod wasn’t enough. "I. Need. The. Words." Haven had told him Hope considered him somewhat of a caveman where she was concerned, and he supposed he was proving her right. But he didn’t care.

"Just you," she whispered.

Two simple words. But words he absorbed as he lowered his head to her waiting, glistening flesh. He didn’t hesitate and flattened his tongue just above her dark entrance, then did a slow swipe up over her wet channel where he gathered her taste, before rasping his tongue over her clit and giving it all his attention. This first true taste of her could prove to be addictive, and more intoxicating than the whiskey he’d drunk earlier.

A low, keening cry sounded above him, while the bite of her nails dug into his shoulders. He would take that as her enjoyment, especially when she wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed. He liked how she surrounded him—how her heated, silky skin pressed against him while her unique essence overtook all his senses. Nothing he’d experienced in all his years compared to this moment and the woman currently clutching at his hair and pulling him closer. So he hummed his own pleasure against her pussy, then, on a whim, scrubbed his mustache over her clit.

"Oh for…" she panted. "You have to do that again."

He grinned at her grunted command and did as she asked, her pussy pushing into his touch and pants growing louder while he took great care in making sure he gave her clit all the attention it might need. He soon set up a rhythm—one her hips met until her body rolled and strained against his mouth. Her legs trembled, then tensed as he flattened his tongue again and lapped at her clit in long, slow strokes.

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