Page 49 of The Ring Thief
I throw the phone down, annoyed, and I turn the TV on, searching for a distraction. I end up watching reruns of a classic sitcom for two hours, before getting up to get ready for my date. I’d been honest when I’d told Sasha I didn’t want a relationship, but maybe a good ol’ dicking is exactly what I need to get a little distance from the situation.
After a shower, I dig my little black dress. It has lacy short-capped sleeves and a flirty hemline that sits around mid-thigh. It’s a little much for a first date, the dress dropping dangerously low on my back, but it’s exactly what I need to boost my confidence. I add a pair of strappy stilettos that tie around my ankle with a cute little bow, and pull my hair into a messy bun that sits low on the nape of my neck. Satisfied with my outfit, I start on my makeup, giving myself a smokey eye and painting my lips in a daring dark red that would normally be right out of my comfort zone.
I’m just putting a small diamond stud in my ear when someone knocks at the front door, making me frown. I head towards it, half-expecting it to be Sasha making sure I’m actually getting ready, and swing it open without checking.
My heart rate immediately spikes at the sight of Declan standing on my porch, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his black shirtpulling tightly over his shoulders and arms, and I curse myself for noticing.
“Hey,” he says smoothly, voice rumbling over me with familiarity and sinking low in my stomach, the sensation worsening when his lip curls into the tiniest of smiles. In the next second, his mouth drops open as he gets a proper look at me, and smug satisfaction blooms in my chest.
“Going somewhere?” he asks roughly, eyes flashing with something I can’t pin down.
Anger? Jealousy? Lust?
He scowls, and I give him a prim smile back. “Yes,” I say easily. “I have a date.”
He chokes on a breath. “A date. You’re going on a?—”
“What’re you doing here, Declan?”
His mouth flattens. “You messaged me, and I wanted to—” his eyes dip again, landing on the hem of my dress. He looks away with a rough breath, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing I wanted to say sounded right. Not through text, anyway. So, I thought I’d…” he trails off, a look of determination coming over his face as he looks back at me. “But I’m not just letting you go out on a date. Not looking like that. We’re married?—”
“We’re getting an annulment,” I protest hotly. “We are not married.”
He presses his left hand, his finger still bare, against his chest, high on his sternum.
“We are,” he says softly. “And if you want to go out on a date, that’s fine. But you’ll be thinking of me while you do it.”
His eyes darken dangerously, but that’s the only warning I get before he’s manhandling me backwards, following me in and kicking the door shut. Before I can blink, he’s got me pressed up against the wall, his body caging me in with an arm on either side of my head. I’m surrounded by him, his scent teasing at my nose, so familiar and drenching me in bitter pain.
I press the heels of my palms into his shoulders, shoving ineffectively. “What the hell are you doing?” I demand furiously. “You can’t just?—”
He presses a finger to my lips, cutting off my words, ignoring the way my eyes spit fire at him.
“Tell me to go and mean it, and I will,” he assures me, his eyes firmly locked with mine. I feel unsteady and unsure, my heart racing in my chest. “But I know you still want me as much as I want you.” His fingers trace over the swell of my lip before dipping to my chin, keeping my head angled up. His other hand drops to play with the hem of my dress, his knuckles skimming the skin of my thigh. I shiver, and he smirks.
“It’s a physical reaction,” I snipe, acting like he’s not affecting me at all. “It doesn’t mean I actually want you.”Lies.
“Oh,” he grins playfully, but there’s a hard glint to his eyes. “Any man would do, huh?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “I don’t need you!”
He presses his forehead to mine, his breath coasting over my face as he says. “No, you don’t. But you still want me.” He pauses, watching me carefully. “Tell me to go, Lily. Tell me to leave, and I will.”
I lick my lips, the words on the tip of my tongue, but when I open my mouth, something else falls out. “You can make me come.”
My eyes widen at the words, almost as much as his. But then his eyes go heavy-lidded with want, and I clench my thighs together, a surge of wetness dampening my panties.
“But that’s it,” I rush to add. “It’s not about you. You’re just…you’re a toy. One I’m using to make myself feel good, to release the tension.” I swallow thickly, heart racing. “I’m using you, just like you used me.”
Pain flares in his eyes, but he hides it by lowering his lashes. A second passes, then another, before he looks at me again, his eyes molten. “You can use me anytime, Lily. I’m yours.” My core tightens at that, and I hide it with a scoff.
“I think you’ve proven otherwise.”
His fingers are on my thigh now, pushing my dress up, teasing at the crease where my thigh meets my hip. “I’ll prove myself to you,” he murmurs. “I’ll show you I mean what I say.” He dips his head, his intent clear when his mouth nears mine, but I whip my head to the side, ensuring his lips land on my cheek.
“No kissing,” I say harshly.
He pauses, his fingers on the waistband of my panties. “An orgasm isfine, but kissing isn’t?” he asks incredulously, his eyebrows high on his forehead.
