Page 35 of Declan's Hope

She let her gaze roam over his dear face.

"I don’t doubt it for a second,

* * *

"So…"

"So?" Hope took a sip of her second cup of morning coffee and grinned at her friend’s perplexed expression. Destiny had been rendered speechless. At least her friend had let Hope put this conversation off until the morning, which hadn’t been an easy sell. But Hope needed to get some sleep once she’d gotten home.

Six o’clock came early.

"So, you, um, well..." Destiny raised both fists where she sat across from her on their living room couch, then she bobbed them up and down like someone holding a set of reins. "You had a mustache ride?"

"I didn’t ride him," Hope insisted while her cheeks heated. She really needed to think before she just blurted stuff out. But then her brows drew down when she tried to come up with the best way to say what she and Declan done—without being too graphic. "No, it was…" She blindly stared toward the kitchen entrance. "It was…"

It wasn’t like she didn’t share everything with one of her best friends, but going into detail might be considered oversharing. The things Declan had done to her had gone beyond any preconceived ideas she’d had on how that particular act would feel.

The man had known what he had been doing—a fact that had her close to frowning. How much practice had Declan had to have gained that much expertise? It wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on. At this point it didn’t matter. Hope planned on being the last woman he ever used that particular skill set on. But however he’d gotten it, she’d definitely reaped the rewards.

How is his lips and tongue and fingers and…

His beard.

A slight shudder of awareness came out of nowhere at the memory. Words failed to aptly describe the sensation of having all that scruff brushing over the sensitive flesh of her pussy and the insides of her thighs—scrubbing over her clit. It had been…

"Beard-tastic, beard-tacular, beard-elicous, beard—"

"Girl, if your face gets any more red, I might have to go get a glass of ice water." More heat filled Hope’s face, as she leveled her gaze on Destiny, who finished with, "So, you had a beard-gasm."

"Exactly," she sighed, putting her cup on the end table beside her chair. "It was beard-erful."

And, dear god, if he was that good at that—so giving and attentive to her needs—then how good would he be when it came to the actual act. Her pussy tingled and clit throbbed at the thought of being filled—stretched—with what she’d held in her hand.

"God," she murmured. "What will it be like to have all of that thick, hot flesh moving deep inside my body while I stare into that one beautiful, clear, blue eye?"

"Hope? Hope!" Destiny said, her snapping fingers pulling Hope’s focus back to her wrinkle-nosed friend sitting forward and waving her hand at her. "That might have been more than I needed to know."

"Huh?"

"You do realize what you just said, right?" Destiny sat back and crossed her arms with a smirk.

"Oh?" Hope’s eyes widened as she stared at Destiny’s lips twitching before her friend burst out laughing, nearly rolling off the couch as she clutched at her stomach. "Oh!" How had she said that out loud? Mortified, she grabbed the throw pillow beside her in the cushioned chair, held it front of her face, and sank back into her seat. So much for not being too graphic.

"I wish you could see your face." Destiny wheezed.

"Well, now you can’t," Hope groused, her words muffled by the pillow. How embarrassing was that? She—

The pillow was yanked out of her hand. Destiny stood in front of her holding the end of it in one hand, with her other fisted on her hip as she tapped her high-heeled toe. "Hope," she said, giving her an irritated look—one that softened as she dropped the pillow. Then Hope scooted over as her friend wedged herself next to her in the chair.

"I love you," Destiny whispered, while wrapping her slender arms around her and laying her head on Hope’s shoulder. "And you know you can say anything to me."

"I know." Hope rested her cheek on the top of Destiny’s head and huffed. "But I honestly had not intended to say that."

"I promise I’m not traumatized. Much," she said on a short laugh. "And I promise not to think about Declan’s THF next time I see him."

"THF?"

"Thick, hot flesh."

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