by E. K. Blair
His fingers dig into my hips, and I feel his hot breath on my pussy seconds before his warm tongue glides along my seam. And then, he dips it between my folds and finds my clit. I whimper when he presses the pad of his tongue against it in a back and forth motion. My breathing picks up and my eyes pop open when my knees begin to buckle. There’s so much pressure and so much friction, quickly driving me to an orgasm. He’s unrelenting, and then abruptly pulls away, leaving my core needy and begging.
He then strikes my ass cheek hard with his hand, creating a loud smack. I immediately feel the abused skin radiate in blazing heat. But before the tingles kick in, he brings his hand down in another ruthless blow.
“Ow!”
Cold air meets the pucker of my ass when he spreads me open. Sweat coats my neck, and my arms begin trembling. His mouth is back on my pussy, lapping his tongue, eating me out like a wild animal. He runs his mouth from my clit all the way back to my asshole. He ravishes me, tasting all of me, and the sensation throws me over, blurring my vision as I mewl in pure ecstasy. He devours me entirely—front to back—back to front, touching me in ways I’ve never experienced before. He fucks both my openings with his tongue, and it takes all my strength to keep myself standing.
Dragging his mouth to my ass cheek, he sinks his teeth into me, biting me like a barbarian before spanking me once again with a fierce hand.
“On your knees,” he demands.
When I lower myself to the floor, he grabs on to me and flips my body around to face him, twisting my arms painfully—one crossed over the other. I scream out, but the pain from the transition dissolves. My ass throbs beneath me as I sit on the battered flesh.
He begins unbuttoning his shirt and stripping down. I admire his body as he stands naked in front of me. Taut muscles wrap around his broad shoulders and rope down his arms. His chest is defined in hard slabs that etch their way down to the deep V that leads to his thick cock. Aside from the bullet wound on his chest, his skin is smooth, but on him, the flaw is flawless; every part of his body is transcendental.
He lowers himself to his knees between my legs and lifts my hips to him, resting my bottom on top of his thighs as my feet are planted flat on either side of him. The head of his cock pushes against me, and he teases me when he drags it up and down between the lips of my pussy, wetting himself with my arousal.
“Tell me who owns you,” he says as he holds himself in his hand and tugs my opening with the tip of his cock.
“You do.”
“I want more.”
“Then take it,” I breathe, my whole body screaming in hysteria for him—for all of him. “You have me entirely. I love you, so take it all because it’s already yours.”
“Fucking Christ, I love you,” he growls as he buries himself balls deep inside me.
My tits bounce as he fucks me with powerful thrusts while he holds my hips up. Throbbing flesh and burning arms cease to exist as I allow myself to get lost in this man I’ve fallen so in love with. I writhe against him every time he enters me, yearning for more. He reaches up and squeezes my one breast roughly before releasing his hand and slapping it. The piercing infliction on such tender skin battles against rhapsodic pleasure, and I cry out in pure carnal heat when he slaps my breast again before leaning down to lick and suck the supple swell of my chest.
The tether of the seatbelts cuts into my wrists as Declan dominates me, doing as he pleases with my body, because he can, because I give him that right.
He slows his pace when he pulls back from kissing me, asking, “Do you trust me?”
“I trust you.”
He then takes both of his hands and places them around my frail neck.
“Do you trust me now?”
I nod.
“Give me the words.”
“I trust you.”
“Don’t panic,” he says firmly, and when he does, a shudder of fear blazes through me.
His eyes pin to mine, and I feel his fingers clamp down as his hands grow in strength, closing around my throat. He starts to pick up the pace, pumping his cock in and out of me. My hands fist into tight balls as his grip around my neck becomes more intense.
The pressure builds and builds as his hands constrict around me.
I gasp for air when he collapses my trachea.
He’s choking me!
His arms strain even more, cutting off my airway completely as he stares into my tear-flooded, wide eyes.
My body lurches as I frantically gurgle, desperate for air.
I panic.
Oh, my God! I can’t breathe!!
“This is trust,” he grunts as he fucks me wildly, pounding into me. He’s brutal. “Don’t be scared.”
My vision blurs, and I yank ferociously against the seatbelts. My hands and feet begin to prickle, and the sensation creeps through my arms and legs, taking me hostage. Chills wrack my body.
There’s no more air.
Everything goes black.
And then . . .
Everything around me explodes in a blazing eruption of every force of nature imaginable when his hands let go of me. Bursts of shattering light impair my vision, blinding me from everything around me as my body contracts viciously, splintering every bone in my body. I spasm in a debilitating orgasm unlike anything that could possibly exist on Earth. I cum violently hard, crying out in an inferno of wild passion. Pleasure rolls in tidal waves through every muscle, every tendon, every cell. It crashes down on me over and over and over, refusing to let go.
I hear Declan moaning deeply in the far distance, I feel his body heat wrap around me. Warmth soaks into my skin, and it feels like medicine when it spreads through my bloodstream. It calms, bringing me back down. I focus on its comfort as my eyes begin to focus. My whole body goes limp, and when I can clearly see Declan, I’m consumed by an overwhelming need for closeness.
“Untie me,” I cry out urgently. “Now, Declan. Untie me.”
My voice trembles and cracks, and he moves quickly to free me, and with each arm he releases, I wrap it tightly around him. He holds on to me as I straddle his lap, and bury my face into the side of his neck. Our bodies are clammy and we cling to each other.
“I’ve got you, darling,” he whispers again and again. “You’re okay; I’ve got you.”
And I know he does. I didn’t think it was possible to grow more intimately with Declan, to be even closer to him. But what he just did . . . I swear to God I felt him inside every molecule I’m made of. I’ve never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, more naked than I do right now in this very moment.
He has me at my weakest.
I finally lift my head and look at him, our bodies still connected, and kiss him, tasting every part of me on his tongue like the savage animal I am.
“Don’t ever leave me.” I begin to weep. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you,” he affirms. “You’re the color of my blood.”
BY THE TIME we landed and arrived at Lotus last night, I was completely depleted. As soon as we crawled into bed, I fell asleep. We took our time waking up and getting around this morning, but now that we’re cleaned up and have had a bite to eat, we’re on our way to The Legacy.
Up until this moment, I’ve been okay. But as Declan drives the familiar streets of the city, I feel sick to my stomach. We pull into the parking garage and park the car next to Bennett’s SUV. Declan steps out of the car, but I’m frozen as I stare at the vehicle Baldwin used to drive me around in.
“Let’s get this over with,” Declan says when he opens my door. He reaches over me and unclicks the seatbelt. “Come on.”
I take his hand and hold tightly to him as we make our way into the building and up to the top floor. When the elevator opens and we enter the penthouse, it all comes flooding back. Every smell, every conversation, every sexual encounter I experienced with the enemy.
I look to Declan—he’s grinding his teeth. His only memory of this place is when he broke in and shot
Bennett, killing him instantly.
“The bedroom is over here,” I mutter, knocking him out of his trance.
He roams around while I go into the closet. I climb up on a stepstool to reach the box on the top shelf. When I pull it down, I rip off the tape and see a pile of clothes I used to hide what lies beneath. I dig down and grab the notebook Pike used to always sketch in. Page after page is filled with art created by his own hands. Some are of random strangers, some are visions from his dreams, but most are of me. I reach down and pull out a few other items I snuck in when I moved in here with Bennett. I had to have pieces of Pike with me always.
I dump out the clothes and put all of Pike’s possessions back into the box. I try not to think too much. Being in this space is hard enough. When I walk back out into the bedroom I shared with Bennett, Declan is standing in front of the large armoire. As I walk over to him, I see he’s holding the framed picture of Bennett and me on our wedding day, and my heart sinks painfully into the deep well of sorrow.
“It wasn’t real,” I say, keeping my voice soft because he looks like he’s about to blow. “I hated that man. I still do.”
He doesn’t speak, his knuckles are tense and white as his fingers grip the metal frame. I reach out slowly and touch his shoulder.
“Please don’t look at that.”
“You look so happy,” he says, his words dripping acid onto my heart.
“I was happy because I was one step closer to destroying him. That’s what’s behind my smile,” I tell him. “Not love.”
“You let him touch you.”
“Don’t do this.”
“He’s touched every part of you.”
“No.”
He sends the photo flying across the room and the frame crashes into a lamp, sending them both falling to the floor, shattering the light bulb.
“Declan, please,” I call out. “If you think I gave him what I give you, you’re wrong!”
“This is what I hate about you,” he seethes as he glares his animosity at me.
It’s a painful reminder that he still harbors these feelings for me. He hides it well, but I can’t pretend that a part of him doesn’t still hate me.
“I look at the fucking bed and all I can see is your naked body fucking him!”
“It wasn’t real.”
He grabs my arms and slings me around, shoving me against the wall, and spits his venomous words at me. “It was real! What you did was real, so stop lying to yourself!”
He shields his pain in anger, and it tears me apart. I can take his temper, but I can’t handle knowing how much he’s hurting. That part cuts me deeply.
Capillaries burst beneath my skin under his strenuous grip on my arms that will surely bruise. He jerks me forward and then pushes me back, letting go of me before turning around. His hand rakes angrily through his hair as he storms out of the room and slams the door behind him, leaving me alone in evil’s lair.
I don’t go after him right away. I allow him time to cool off as I sit by the window and look down over Millennium Park.
“Are you okay?”
I look up to Pike who stands next to me as he leans against the window, and I nod, because I’m scared if I talk, Declan might hear.
“It’s only natural for him to feel this way, you know?”
“I know,” I faintly whisper.
“Deep down he’s hurting. You have to help him carry the weight of that pain.” Pike leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Go talk to him.”
I stand and give my brother a hug, thankful that he’s always here with me.
“I love you,” I murmur in his ear.
“I love you too.”
Picking up the box, I walk over to the door and open it gently. I step out of the room and see Declan sitting on the couch in the living room. His elbows are propped on his knees and he’s resting his forehead on his fisted hands, staring at the floor. I set the box down on the coffee table and sit next to it, facing him.
My hands close around his fists, and he looks up at me with shame in his eyes, saying, “I’m sorry I lost it on you.”
“No.” I refuse his apology with a shake of my head. “You have every right to get your anger out. I’m the one who owes all the apologies, not you.”
“I thought those feelings were fading because we’ve grown so much closer these past couple weeks, but seeing that photo . . .”
“You could hate me forever, and it would be okay. I’ll love you regardless.”
He unclenches his hands and places them along my jaw while I still hold on to his wrists. I can see his emotions tormenting him when he confesses, “I don’t want to hate you.”
“It’s okay. I’m inherently yours.”
I jump when the phone rings loudly, putting an end to our conversation. I rush over to answer it and tell Manuel to send up the agent from Sotheby’s.
When I hang up, Declan walks to me and wraps himself around me. I hug him and listen to his heart, hoping I’ve reassured him enough to take the guilt of his feelings away from him. By the time the knock on the door comes, we’re both calm and in a better place since the outburst.
“Good morning,” the agent greets, shaking both mine and Declan’s hands. “I’m Ray; it’s nice to meet you.”
“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Declan says. “We’re just pressed for time and need to get the ball rolling on this property.”
“Of course. If you don’t mind, can I take a look around?”
“Please.”
Declan waits in the living room while I show Ray around the penthouse as he takes notes and asks a few questions here and there. We then regroup as we sit down at the dining table.
“How many units was this originally?” Ray asks.
“It was four units before it was renovated into one.”
After a few more questions, he pulls the amenities sheet out and begins punching numbers on his calculator.
“First, can I ask you what number you had in mind?”
“I didn’t have one in mind. I don’t even know what my husband bought it for,” I respond, nearly wincing at the word husband, and it must be gnawing at Declan as well.
“When I combine everything together,” Ray begins, “I think a good starting point is looking close to ten point nine million for this unit.”
I don’t care what this place sells for; I just want to dump it. We won’t be keeping the money anyway. “Sounds good. When can we have it listed?”
“That honestly depends on you. As soon as you’re ready, I can send the photographer over to take pictures. Once that’s taken care of, we can have this property live on our site within twenty-four hours.”
“Great.”
“We need to make a few arrangements first,” Declan adds.
“Of course. Take care of what you need and call me when you’re ready to move forward.”
We stand, shake hands, and I walk Ray to the door, thanking him for his time.
“What arrangements?” I question after I close the door.
“We need to hire a packing service to clear everything out of here.”
“What are we going to do with all of it?”
“What about his parents? Can you give them a call and let them know you’re selling the apartment and see if they’d like us to have everything moved to a storage unit?”
“I suppose,” I respond, dread sinking in.
“It has to be done.”
“I know,” I sigh. “What about you?
“What do you mean?”
“They’re going to insist on seeing me. I mean, for all intents and purposes, I’m the daughter-in-law, and God only knows what they’re thinking about me after I high-tailed it out of the country immediately after Bennett’s funeral. If I meet them, you can’t come with me.”
“You’re not going to see them.” His edict isn’t one I want to argue with. “Go ahead and call them.”
I go to the kitchen and power up Bennett’s old phone s
o I can get his mother’s number. Before making the call, I take a deep breath.
“Put it on speakerphone,” Declan instructs.
After a few rings, the call’s connected.
“Hello?”
“Carol, it’s me, Nina.”
“Nina!” she exclaims. “My goodness, we’ve all been so worried about you. Are you okay, dear?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Where on Earth have you been?”
“Just traveling,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I ran off so quickly without saying anything, I just had to get away.”
“Where are you now?”
“Back in Chicago, actually, but only for a short while.”
“Can I come see you?”
I look to Declan, and he’s shaking his head.
“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Carol.”
“Nina, you’re still a part of our family,” she says, her voice teetering on tears.
“I know, but it’s just easier this way. But listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Yes. What is it?”
“I’m putting the penthouse on the market.”
“You’re selling it?” The quiver of her voice turns to shock.
“It’s too much, and I’m not even here to use the space anyways. I can’t live here anymore, it’s too painful. Everything here reminds me of him,” I tell her feigning my sadness as a widow.
“I understand, it’s just hard to see something of his go.”
“I’ve packed up a few things to remember him by,” I lie. “But everything else, the furniture, his clothes . . . I was wondering if you could help me out.”
“Whatever you need,” she says. “How can I help?”
“Would it be okay if I had everything boxed up and sent to a storage unit?”
“Are you sure you don’t want any of it?”
“I’m sure. I can’t look at any of it anymore, it hurts too much,” I say with a voice overflowing in sadness. “I have to force myself to move on.”
“Move on?” she weeps.
“I’m sorry, but I have to . . . for me.”