Page 98 of Promise of Destruction
“Your problem,” Declan’s lips hover over my skin, from where his fingers rest on my neck all the way up to my ear. If I moveeven a fraction of an inch, they’d be pressing against my skin. “Is that you think you’re in control.”
I’m about to tell him I am just to spite him, even though I amclearlynot, but his fingers dip below the waistband of my pants and suddenly I’m happy to admit he’s in control. He slides his palm against me, flattening his hand so that his fingers slip easily lower, lower, until…
He slips inside of me, proving that I’ve been lying to both of us about how I don’t want him, and slides deep until my stomach contracts with the force of the breath I suck in.
Fuck.
I’m on the verge of insanity, hating how much I love the feel of him between my thighs.
He’s slow, exploring what it feels like to be inside me, taking his time with his strokes and building a need that threatens to consume us both.
I want this as much as I don’t want it. I don’t even know if Dimitri and Elaine are gone. This is a stranger’s house… there could be cameras. I push against his hand as he glides out, but it’s too half-hearted to stop him.
“What’s the matter, kitten?”
“Stop.” I rasp. It’s all I can say without cracking, and eventhat,I barely manage to get out. There’s more I’d say if I could control my voice—this is wrong, someone could see us, we’re guests here. But none of that would matter to him, just like my feeble protest doesn’t matter to him.
He slides in deeper, drawing a gasp of surprise from me, and I drop my hand from his arm, abandoning the resistance I was trying to cling to. When he slides out of me this time and slips back in, I feel noticeably fuller. He’s added another finger, and he uses them to curl into me until I’m gasping. My legs feel weak, and instinct has me rocking on the tips of my toes, trying to make more room for him.
The pressure is a curious combination of pleasure and discomfort. It feels like he’s about to push his hand through me from the inside out, but it’s sending hot ripples of pleasure over my skin as he strokes a place I never knew existed.
I groan as the energy it took to try and arch away from him depletes me and I fall deeper onto his palm.
“Such a good whore.” He whispers. I can hear the mockery in it even without opening my eyes to see that sinister little smirk. “You like this, don’t you? Telling yourself that you don’t want me. Telling yourself that this pussy isn’t weeping for me right now.”
I bite my lip, refusing to say anything in response to that.
Of course, Declan doesn’t like that. He hits that place deep inside me, ripping a moan out of my throat that dies in frustration as he retreats.
“Tell me you want this. Tell me what a whore you are for me, Soren Palmer.”
He thrusts again and I think I’m going to crumple before him. I open my mouth, unsure how I’m supposed to get my tongue to move when everything inside of me is trembling. I’ve given myself a few orgasms before, and I think I may have had a few with Vin, but this feels like the prelude to something catastrophic.
And I want it.
I need it.
“Declan,”
It’s all I can manage. His name sounds like a prayer on my tongue… a plea to a cruel God for relief.
“Fuck, Kitten.” He growls, thrusting his hand once more. “Was that so hard?”
And then he stops, pulling out of me all at once. The elastic on my pants snaps as he retreats, an audible reminder of the loss.
My eyes fly open in time to see the strangled look of hunger on his face before it morphs into a wicked grin. I don’t know why he stopped, especially given that he looks pained to do so.
But the realization hits me when he wraps his arms around my waist and hoists me over his shoulder.
It’s graceless, demeaning, and primal. But I understand all at once where he’s taking me and why.
He didn’t finish becauseI just gave him the green light.
After all my denial and all his attempts to get me to beg him, to moan his name, I just surrendered after a few minutes of being fucked by his fingers.
Now he’s going to take everything that I’m willing to give him… and maybe more than I’m willing to part with.
sixty-two
