But no one has touched my ass till now.
As Declan drizzles lube onto his digits, my chest turns into a furnace. I’m already halfway to blast-off from his filthy words and his dirty talk when he cups my balls in one hand and roams his other down to my hole.
He skates his fingers across my ass and I tremble, heating up all over.
“You like that?” he rumbles.
“I do,” I pant.
“Me too,” he says in a throaty purr as he teases, one finger playing right there, another rubbing my taint.
I groan, struck speechless by the feelings, the sensations.
He laughs, a sexy, satisfied kind. “I know, right? So, so good.”
“So fucking good,” I echo, then all I can do is pant as I writhe and twist underneath his touch.
“And I’ve only just started,” he says as he strokes me, pushing the pad of his finger against my entrance right as he bends his face and kisses my inner thigh.
And holy fuck.
I arch up from the twin—no, triple—dose of pleasure. Of hands cupping balls, fingers playing around my ass, and his perfect lips fluttering near my cock.
Then, Declan adds more lube, and returns to my ass. He pushes one digit inside and enters me for the first time. It makes me shiver but it burns too, and for a second or maybe more, I tense.
“You okay?”
“I’m good,” I say as I breathe deeply, let my legs fall apart more. Give the pleasure room to take over, and it does.
Declan drops a soft kiss to my knee, then continues working me.
Pressing.
Teasing.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the unholy sensations roll through me like a heat wave.
One that’s scorching me as he takes his time.
As he plays.
As he explores.
He pushes in farther while bringing his mouth to my cock, drawing the crown past his lips.
His finger’s in my ass, his mouth is on my dick, his hand is on my balls, and it’s official—I incinerate.
I become a five-alarm fire.
“Oh, fuck yes,” I growl, bumping my ass down on his hand, seeking him out, wanting him, needing him.
He murmurs around the head of my dick, and he goes deeper into my body at the same time. “You got me now. Want another finger?” he whispers against my dick.
I melt from desire. I am a raging ball of need, and lust. “I want your dick. Give me your dick,” I beg, getting lost in the haze.
He lets go of my cock, shakes his head. “I know you do, babe, but we’re going to work up to it. Need to open you up first. Fuck you with my fingers.” He slides another one in. “I want you to feel what it’s like when I do this first,” he says, and with some kind of voodoo magic, he crooks his fingers just so inside my ass.
Yup. He just introduced himself to my prostate and I am very happy to make his acquaintance.
Pleasure torpedoes each cell in my body. I shake everywhere, head to toe and back. “Yes, yes, yes.”
It’s a chant, a plea, a desperate cry. I’m begging for anything and everything from this man.
My eyes fly open, and I stare at Declan. He’s nibbling on the corner of his lips, his eyes dark and dirty. His face is twisted with pleasure as he adds more lube, then a third finger.
Sparks of heat dance around my ass. Heat and tingles and insane pressure.
I nearly lose my mind. I forget where I am.
I’m desperate, so desperate for more. I push up on my elbows, wanting to get closer to him. “Fuck, babe. It’s so good,” I pant out.
Like he can read my thoughts as they’re forming, he leans forward, fingers still in me, his other hand on my cock. He takes my mouth with his, kissing me as he finger fucks me. His tongue delves into my mouth, his lips fusing with mine.
All this contact is like a high-voltage charge rushing through my body. Then he breaks the kiss, whispering, “I fucking love kissing you. Love it all the time.”
“Me too,” I moan as he returns to kneeling between my legs and I fall back down to the pillow.
He plays, he strokes, he crooks.
My hands slide up and down my chest, traveling over my nipple piercing, pinching it.
“Oh, hell yes. Play with yourself as I finger fuck this stunning ass,” he urges.
Easy enough. I tease at my nipples as he bends a finger just so.
My eyes lock with his dark brown irises. Flames lick my skin. “Jesus, this is . . .”
“Yeah, it is . . .”
Then he bends his face toward me, takes the crown of my cock in his mouth and sucks hard, unleashing another jolt of pleasure in my balls, my ass, my dick.
My hands fly to him. They curl around his head, holding him, one palm sliding down between his shoulder blades. I push him deeper onto my dick, making him take me far into his mouth.
And he takes. Oh yes, does he ever, finding room for my shaft in his mouth. With loud, wet slurps that make my whole body sizzle, he sucks me to the root. Then, the man crooks a finger inside me, and my climax announces its intentions.
It’s coming and it’s not stopping for anything.
It barrels down my spine, rattles through my bones.
And I explode.
My orgasm owns my body. It steals my thoughts. It takes me over all the edges everywhere.
“Yes, fucking yes,” I grunt, coming harder than I ever have before. I come for days and he takes it all.
Groaning as he sucks me down.
And I’m just gasping.
Panting.
Moaning.
And writhing in the aftershocks of this brand-new bliss.
But he’s not done with me.
As soon as he swallows my release, he pulls off my cock with a smack of his lips, eases out his fingers, and then flips me over to all fours. Moving behind me, he smacks my ass, then grabs my cheeks with both hands, squeezing rough and hard, pulling me apart.
I look behind me, and the sight is phenomenal.
It is all my fantasies. It’s what I’ve imagined for years. A man I want. A man I trust. A man I connect with. And he wants me with the same ferocity.
This is what I’ve waited to have someday.
Some night.
And maybe I can have it tonight. Now.
I shudder, picturing what might happen next. Hoping for it. “Are you going to fuck me?”
Declan shakes his head. “No,” he says, emphatic. “But I do want to give you a teaser.”
He grabs my ass even harder, then slides his hard cock along my crack: up, down, up, down.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan, swaying against his length, craving more of it.
He echoes my sentiments with growls and grunts of his own as he simulates fucking me.
Sliding a hand up my back so possessively, Declan pushes down between my shoulder blades, giving me the best trailer of the hottest movie ever.
I bow my back, raising my ass higher, letting him know he can have me whenever he’s ready. I ache everywhere. My balls, my cock, my ass. My God, this is insane. This intensity. This longing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. It’s like a full-body possession. Like desire owns every cell inside of me, like it’s twined in my DNA. “I want you to fuck me so bad,” I say, begging.
He grabs my shoulder, gripping it hard, then covering me with his chest. “Trust me. It’s all I want too, and I’m going to make it so good for you,” he murmurs in my ear, then he moves off me, falls to his back and thrusts the lube in my hand.
“It won’t take me long,” he says.
I follow his lead.
He gave me the map. He handed me the instructions. So, I return the favor. Lubing up, teasing, toying, then pushing a finger inside his body. And it feels incredible when I watch his reaction.
His face is exquisite torture, excruciating bliss, and his mouth is dirty magic.
Yes.
Do that.
Fuck yes.
More, more, more.
I don’t want to screw up,
but I’m not sure I can, because he showed me exactly what to do. But I add little changeups as I learn his body, as I discover he wants it a little deeper than he gave it to me, a little harder, a little more pressure. I listen to his cues, and I give him what he seems to want, what he seems to need.
I feel like a king when he thrusts up, moaning and groaning. Then begging.
“Suck me off,” he says hoarsely.
In a heartbeat, I bring my lips to his dick.
I draw him in, nice and deep, sucking his fantastic cock with everything I have. He pummels my mouth as I fuck his ass, my fingers doing that come-hither wave till he shouts, “Yes, coming now.”
I suck him harder, my bones humming with a fresh round of pleasure as I swallow his salty, musky orgasm, drinking him down like he’s my new favorite thing.
Because he is.
I give him one good final lick as I ease out my fingers. Then I kiss the tip of his dick and lift my face.
Once he comes down from his high, he pulls me to him, dragging me close, my chest against his.
Declan’s hands slide into my hair, and he kisses me in that tender, sloppy way he has of kissing after sex.
The way he likes it.
I know that already, and that knowledge makes my pulse surge.
Turns out I’m not only learning about myself, but I’m discovering him too. What he likes. What he needs.
It’s thrilling to understand another person’s desire. It’s a gift when a man shows you what he wants.
Declan is fearless in bed. He’s unafraid to let go. To talk. To ask for things. To tell me what he likes.
My life has been the opposite. I haven’t asked for things. I haven’t put myself out there in anything but baseball. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Growing up, I saw two people who were supposed to love me fight over everything. I saw two people who were supposed to want me act like they didn’t.
No wonder I only ever went after hookups. They were easier.
This is so much harder.
This isn’t a hookup.
And Declan is showing me how to take new chances. I think I can be fearless too, like him. Starting in simple ways. Like talking about sex, about how we are together in bed. So, when we break the kiss, I say something that’s been on my mind, something that drives me crazy with him. “You’re noisy.”
He smiles, all dopey and sexy. “I know. I’m not quiet.”
“You sure aren't,” I say, with a grin, letting him know I like his sounds.
“Because I love sex,” he says, all low and smoky. “But not all sex.” He looks me in the eyes. “When I’m into the guy, that’s when I’m the loudest.” He lifts his face and kisses my smile with a sexy murmur, a flick of his tongue, a whisper. “And I’m really into you, rookie.”
A brand-new jolt of pleasure zips down my back.
But it’s not from the thrill of contact. It’s from something else entirely.
The things he says. The way he talks to me. And the way I want to talk to him.
He pulls back, flops onto the pillow, but keeps his gaze locked with mine.
My stomach flips.
That’s new too, and so is the next thing I say. “Yeah, I’m pretty into you too.”
A little later, we’re cleaned up, lazing around in bed and talking about a TV show we both like, a how-to documentary about strange things in New York.
His phone buzzes.
When Declan grabs it from the nightstand, I turn away. Don’t want him to think I’m prying as he reads a message.
“You like hockey?”
“Duh,” I answer.
“Smart aleck. Tomorrow’s our off day. Want to go to a hockey game tomorrow night?”
“With you?” I ask, surprised.
“No, with Lady Gaga.” Then, Declan strips any flirting or sarcasm from his tone as he glides his hand down my arm. “Yes, with me. My friend Emma and me. Her brother, Fitz, is playing."
I beam, sunshine flooding my body. “Dude. James Fitzgerald is a badass defenseman. Hell yeah. I'm in.”
“Good. They have an extra ticket so it can be you and me and Emma.”
The sound of that makes my chest warm up, maybe even do a happy dance. Perhaps it’s the endorphins talking, but I wiggle a brow, feeling bold with him, taking another chance. “Is she our cover?”
A grin spreads slow and easy as he runs a hand down my chest possessively. “Yes. But I’m probably going to have to tell her we have a thing. Easier that way. Plus, she’ll probably figure it out. I tend to let down my guard with my good friends, and all it’ll take is me looking at you the way I like to and she’ll know. You cool with that?”
I hear the subtext—we agreed to tell no one. So, this breaks that rule.
But I like the subtext.
I like his hand on my chest.
I like how we are together.
“How do you like to look at me?” I ask, since I’m a glutton for compliments.
One searing-hot stare is his answer. “Like that, rookie. Like that,” he growls, his hand spreading across my pecs, curling over them.
“I'm cool with that,” I answer.
He drops a kiss to my jawline, rubbing his chin across my stubble. “It’ll kind of be like a date.”
And that’s another first for me too. “I'm looking forward to it,” I say in the understatement of my lifetime.
I’m looking so damn forward to it I wish it were tomorrow night now so I could go out with Declan Steele.
Then he pushes up on his elbow. “You want to talk about tomorrow?”
My brow creases. “About hockey? Pretty sure I know how hockey works. You hit the puck into a net, and it’s awesome, but baseball is better.”
“You’re all good there. But no. I meant sex, Grant. Your list. Our plans.”
My skin tingles. I love talking about sex with him. It’s freeing, but kind of terrifying too. “Sure,” I say on a rough swallow, waiting for him to go next.
He sets a hand on my hip, then slides it down to my ass, absently curving his palm over my skin. “Sex is better if you talk about it. Communication and all,” he begins.
“Right. Sure. At least, that’s what I’ve read online. I’m a master at reading articles on sex,” I say, pushing out a laugh, maybe to cover up my inexperience.
“Good. That’s all part of communication. But listen, it might not be perfect. It might hurt,” he says, gently squeezing my butt. “We can stop at any point.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I say, at the speed of light. Is he calling this off? Panic kicks in, swirling in my chest. “Do you want to?”
Please say no.
His brown eyes flash with affection. “Did you not hear me when I said I’m into you? Did you not feel me thirty minutes ago when I was playing with your ass? When I wanted so desperately to be inside you?”
Inside me.
He’s doing it again. Turning me on, breaking me down, making me ache for him.
I ache everywhere.
As the memories roar back, my hands skim over his hard body. “I was definitely there.”
“You know I want you, Grant,” he says in a firm voice that’s like a line in the sand. It says don’t question my desire.
“Yeah, I know that, Deck. It’s just . . .” I can’t finish because the words are so foreign. I just like you so much I don’t want to screw up. You fascinate me and I can’t fucking believe you’re into me too. I can’t believe you’re the first guy I’m going to sleep with, and that makes me feel like I won a World Series. Which is a crazy thing to think, but there it is.
“You’re nervous?” he asks.
But maybe that’s it too. Simple, pedestrian nerves. The basic human fear of not wanting to make a mistake. I grit my teeth, breathe through my nostrils, then admit it. “Yeah,” I say, and my chest lightens instantly. My jaw unclenches. Maybe this is some of what’s winding me up. The will-it-live-up-to-the-hype uncertainty. Since he’s talking so openly with me, I dip my toe
in those waters. “You know I told you I watched porn?”
“A very normal thing to do,” he says.
“And the guys, at least the kind I watch, are just all so . . .”
“Perfect? With perfect bodies? Perfect cocks? Perfect loads?”
I laugh. “Yeah, all that.” But quickly, I stop laughing. “Only, it’s not about the bodies. It's more that they all have . . . perfect moves.”
“I hear ya, rookie. Keep talking.”
“It all goes so perfectly. When they switch positions and stuff. When one dude flips the other to his back or his side, or all fours. They’re all like boom. Back at it. And the second the bottom has a dick in his ass, he’s all like yes, so good. And I kinda feel like . . . what if I just don’t know what to do? What if it’s not like that? What if I don’t feel that way or make you feel that way?”
“What if?” He tosses out at me. “What if, Grant?”
“I don’t know,” I say, raising my voice. “That’s my point. What if?”
“You think I’m gonna smack you on the ass, pull out my dick, and walk off?”
I suppose a part of me did. Isn’t that what people do sometimes? Just leave you in the lurch?
“I hope not,” I admit.
Declan runs his hand down my chest. “I don’t need it to be perfect. You and me, we’re not making porn. We’re not trying to turn everyone else on. You’re the only one I want to make feel good.”
Now I am hot all over. But this heat rushing through me is so much more than physical. “I want it to be good for you, Declan.”
“It will be. It’s already better than it’s been before. Want to know why?”
“Tell me,” I say, heart skittering.
“Since we’re talking about it.”
“You do like to talk,” I tease.
“Talking is hot,” he says.
“And you said you weren’t chatty,” I say, getting my confidence back. “You are so chatty.”
“What can I say? I’m different with you,” Declan says, and my chest glows from those last four words. Four perfect words. I’m different with you.
“Are you?” I ask, hoping it’s not patently obvious how much I like what he’s saying.
“Seems I am. And that’s why I want you to know that it’s just you and me in bed,” he says, tapping my chest, then his. “We set the pace. We don’t have to please an audience. We can just make it good for each other.”
Scoring With Him Page 18