by M. C. Cerny
“Hell, why wouldn’t I kiss you? Is this any worse than sucking my cock in the confessional?” he taunts, tossing his napkin down.
I’m scared by how unpredictable he can be. He pulls me into his lap despite my meager protest. Onlookers raise their eyebrows, and before I can protest overly much, he kisses me senseless. Hands pull pins from my hair and I’m transported back to his office at the club. Anyone who didn’t know I belong to Declan before surely knows by now.
Dessert is merely a consolation after a dinner I can barely swallow. A little cake, coffee, and a dinner mint before my deflowerment. For a change, Declan is a perfect gentleman. Because my ankle is throbbing from when Jason kicked it the day before, he insists on carrying me to the room I occupy, promising to return after he makes a few phone calls. It’s all business, he says as he unclasps the straps on the ankles of my heels—silly things I could barely walk in, given the pain I’m in now. There is no way to hide the bruises that travel up my leg—or the rest of my body—from the encounter with LeHavre. This may be the only time I have with Declan.
Together.
Not together, because he isn’t mine. Not any more than I am his, despite what he claims.
I’m left alone with my thoughts for an hour, and lay my head down on the bedding, feeling sleepy, waiting. The alcohol from dinner helps me drift off, dreaming of a dark, mysterious man who is both my savior and the cause of my pain.
Warmth tickles me awake.
“There you are,” Declan murmurs, kissing my thigh and slipping his hand under the dress so he can drag it upward and part it wide.
I don’t know if I want this to be a dream or not. “Don’t you have your own room?” I speak into the pillow, hoping he’ll give me one last reprieve. He doesn’t.
“Sweet Sydney, we’ve been over this. You are in my room.”
I jolt up in the bed. My dress is high on my thighs and cool air hits my damp core, making me squirm. This doesn’t surprise me the way I suppose it should.
“I thought—”
“Stop thinking so much. That’s where your trouble begins.” His eyes are laser focused on mine and his chin rests on my knee.
I settle deeper into the comfort of bedding and watch the man trailing his hands over my needy skin.
“I don’t suppose you’ll stop?” I ask, wishing I could pull the pillow from behind my head and bury my face in it. Of all the things we’ve done together, or I’ve had done to me, this feels far too intimate.
“Not on your life. Debts must be paid, the devil appeased, and all that good stuff, my dear.” Declan crawls over me, turning me in his arms and pinning me down.
My heart pounds heavy beats, slamming into my chest, leaving me dizzy and breathless. Never in a million years could I have imagined feeling this way for a man so hard and ruthless. My parents taught me better. They expected better, and then one half of my world died, leaving me in abject limbo. I sought the sun, scraping by for a breath of fresh air while my father sought the darkness and drink to drown his sorrows.
“I swear if I had a penny for all the thoughts going on in that head of yours, Sydney.”
I clear my throat. “Bad pennies.”
Declan’s face falls with a strange look before he rucks my dress up over my body. “Come back to me then.”
I lay spread out for him, braless and wearing black panties which he quickly pulls off, tossing those to the floor.
“Too many clothes on you.” I try pulling his shirt out of his pants.
“Bossy girl.”
I’m feeling cheeky tonight after his teasing at dinner, a little drunk maybe, but still in control of my faculties.
“Spank me, Declan.” My hands hold onto his biceps, thick, tanned muscles that come from more than working out in a gym.
“As much as I like a good challenge, I think this evening will be enough.” He pulls his belt from the loops in his pants, tossing it to the floor in a loud clank of metal and leather on wood.
My mouth dries and my nails flex over his arms. “What should I do?”
“Don’t claw me to death for one, and secondly, try to relax. I’m not going to kill you.” Declan’s voice lowers and the serious tone is gone.
“The necklace?” I glance between us at the ruby between my breasts.
“It suits you, Sydney. Keep it on.”
I don’t move a muscle when Declan backtracks to the end of the bed, standing up. The vest comes off, landing on a chair. He untucks his shirt and slowly unbuttons it, popping the black discs through the sewn holes one by one. The shirt joins the vest and I swallow my breath. His chest is a perfect mosaic of muscle mixed with superficial scars, and a tattoo that covers his chest looking like a knight’s armor. He turns for a moment, reaching for his pants, and I glimpse another tattoo covering his shoulders: broken wings and feathers in black ink, marking him a fallen angel.
“Declan, your back…It’s incredible.” I lean up on my elbows as his pants drop, desperate to get a better view.
Declan has the grace to smirk. “It’s not my back that should impress you right now.”
He’s right—it isn’t the only impressive thing. His cock isn’t fully erect, but it stands heavy, bobbing against his stomach, rigid and thick. It’s thicker than three of his fingers, and heat suffuses through my body. I’m not only impressed but a little terrified, honestly, as he knees up on the bed and crawls over me, caging me in and spreading my legs out.
“So this is it?” I ask.
Declan leans his head down, sighing, and a grin spreads his face from ear to ear.
“No. Not at all.” He lowers his hips against me, fitting his cock at the juncture of my thighs. He pumps his dick a few times, rubbing fluid over his member.
I watch him move as he grinds against my folds until they spread from the friction, exposing my clit. The pressure makes my hips buck. I whine with want, feeling my skin go dewy with sweat.
“I’m taking you, Sydney, but I want you with me.” He’s on his forearms now, big hands playing with my breasts, pinching and rolling my nipples into sharp points.
I’m panting. My hips shift, unable to get closer, weighted down into the bedding. Declan’s hips match mine thrust for thrust, and each movement makes the bed squeak and jump as he gets closer to pushing through.
“Oh, Declan.” I know what I’m asking for and it isn’t gentle. I want the promise of a rough fucking by this man who swears he’ll forget me, because I know I won’t forget him as long as I live. I’ll take whatever he has to offer.
“Sydney,” he releases a breath.
His hands leave my breasts and move to my face, holding me still, tangling in my hair, anchoring me. My legs part as wide as possible, making room for him to fill me. I smell the sharp tang of our arousal and it drugs me. My hands snake around his shoulders and back, nails raking against ink and history I desperately want to be a part of.
Breathlessly I whisper into his open mouth, his thrusting hips bruising my own. “I want this. I want you, Declan.”
His cock punches through, impaling deep inside me. There’s pain, vague memories of remorse that dissolve into my all-consuming need to let Declan have this part of me with my permission as he kisses the tears away.
Warmth suffuses my skin but does little to take away the chill. Declan is awake and grumbling under the canopy of our bed. Even saying “our” bed is a shock to me; the man who swore he wouldn’t make love to me or cuddle afterward hasn’t let go of me in the week I’ve been in his bed. His chest presses against my back in a solid heavy way, comforting me. His hand snakes around my middle, pulling me flush against him. My hand covers his and I feel the delicate lines of scars slashed into his hand from a knife fight a decade ago. He feels too good to be true, with his strength and his need for me, protecting me. Morning sex is how he starts our day, and today is no different with his hot breath coating my neck and ear, cranking up the temperature of the room to an impossible degree.
“Open your legs, Sydn
ey.”
A shiver runs over my body and I squeeze my eyes shut, flattening my body to the bed, doing as Declan demands. His leg, rough with hair, rubs my inner thigh as he pushes me wide from behind. A hand lays flat against my belly, pressing up and pushing my ass back against his ramrod steel cock. He fits himself between my globes, pressing deep. Moisture dots the back of my spine with his pre-cum and I claw the sheets, giving him unfettered access to my body. I’ve submitted everything to this man, except my honesty, and the guilt burns me from within.
My nerves are shot, because today is the last day I have to follow through on delivering the property deed to LeHavre. Without the deed, my father will be shot and left on the steps of his precinct for everyone to see his shame. I’ll be orphaned; the daughter of a dirty cop. But perhaps the biggest loss will be Declan. He’ll know it was me who betrayed him either way, and I won’t be exempt from his punishment.
Me.
The good girl gone to hell.
I’ve stolen this time with him as my own because god only knows what comes next for either of us. Declan’s large hand cups my hip, thumb rubbing the ridge of bone under my skin. He slides me up and down against his thick cock. His rod is hot like a bolt of lightning zinging me. He doesn’t wear a condom—he won’t with me—and I secretly dream of having his babies, even though I have the birth control implant. A little boy dark like his daddy, and maybe a little girl with his soulful eyes to wrap him around her little baby fingers. The thought makes me smile into the silky bedding, shuddering with need.
“Relax, pretty girl.” His gravelly morning voice makes my insides clench tighter. It always pinches the first thrust, and I wonder if that’s something that will change in time. Right now I revel in the feeling, hearing him strain to fill me. Maybe I’m as sick as he is, but knowing I have his undivided attention for the next hour is a secret thrill. No club bunny or second in command will take him away from me. Sadly, by this afternoon, I will have done that all by myself. The playful spankings will turn into something violent, and my stomach cramps. What does he do to women who not only break the rules but betray his trust? I know what he does to men, even if I’ve never seen it.
People get hurt.
People disappear.
The rumors are real.
I push myself up, prepared to give him everything he wants from me as if I’m saying goodbye. This could be our last everything. It is our last everything—my one moment to cherish in the dark when he finds out my deception. His hand travels back to my ass, shaping it under his calloused fingers, molding it to his grip. I take a deep breath as his finger circles the tight skin around my star, flexing the tissues.
“Not today, baby.” He laughs and grazes the skin, gently probing but nothing more. I can’t stop my panting breaths, and I wonder if I’ll ever fully trust him. Probably not, and the thought makes me sad.
We never had a chance, did we?
“I love fucking this pussy that’s mine.” He covers me and presses deep in a singular thrust, pinning me to the bedding in a long grunt of slapping skin and whooshing breaths.
I shut my eyes, blocking out the redemption of a new day and the morning sun. My tears fall, staining the four-hundred count Egyptian cotton with regret.
Chapter Eleven
Declan
“Hang on, Neil, I need to go into my office and grab the paperwork for the meeting. Meet you in ten minutes.” Ending the call, I slip my phone into my pocket. I adjust my suit, thinking how much Sydney dislikes the black-and-gray superfine pinstripe. She says it makes me look like a gangster from the twenties, some Bonnie and Clyde shit she worries too much about. Her favorite, my navy Brioni, is at the drycleaners until tomorrow. I have fun dressing her up in my vests, admiring her cleavage in the deep V. We have a lot of fun unbuttoning my dress shirts slowly. I’ll have an entire closet of new suits, if it makes her happy. There’s lightness in my step I never thought I would have before all this.
Before Sydney.
Damn that girl.
One night with her and I’m a goner.
A week and I’ve scooped her dad up and shipped him off to a rehab three states away. Best half million dollars I ever spent, clearing her old man’s debts. She twists me up in fucking knots, and yet when she offered me her delectable ass this morning I couldn’t bring myself to take it yet. I wanted to savor it, not slam into it as if she was some whore from the club. Using the debt against Sydney had been a game until it stopped being a game. The velvet box in my safe said everything I couldn’t when I’d gone and fallen for the girl. I never fall for the girl and all that messy shit.
Except for Sydney.
I thought long and hard about how I would ask her to be mine. Dinner out, or in? How long would I wait? It shouldn’t matter, but I want this one thing to be perfect. My hand reaches for the doorknob, and as I began to twist it I hear a rustling in my office that shouldn’t be. My office is empty unless I’m occupying it.
Maggie dropped off a casserole yesterday, trying to see what we were up to, nosy old bird. I lock shit up when I’m not there. A needle of pain lances my stomach, wondering, and I back away down the hall and around the corner waiting. I didn’t survive this long by being stupid, and my hand reaches for the concealed gun I carry.
I wait for what feels like minutes, pressing ignore on my phone when Neil messages me to hurry up. I hear the click-clack of small heeled feet coming closer. I step around the corner as if I had just gotten there.
“Shit, Dec!”
I grab her shoulders, righting her from falling. What the fuck was Sydney doing coming from my office?
“What’s up, baby?” I kiss her dry lips, licking the edges until she moans and lets me in for a taste. I have to meet Neil, but my cock has other ideas. I grind her against the wall in the hallway and her body goes soft for me.
She’s breathless, speaking between my bites on her neck and my hands cupping her breasts in her sundress. “Meeting Selma at the coffee shop.” Her eyes dart down the hall, not meeting mine. She’s lying, but I can’t figure out why or what has her so distracted.
“I can drive you there and pick you up later.” I can’t because I’m meeting Neil, but she doesn’t know that and I’ll make brother wait if I have to.
“No, it’s okay. We’ve got girl stuff planned.” Since she’s been in my house, my bed, and at my breakfast table, working had been out of the question. Sydney hasn’t been back to the coffeehouse or her apartment. I haven’t heard her call her co-worker or that roommate of hers that never seems to be home and I suppose she has things to take care of.
I smirk because I think she should take care of my dick right now, despite how crude that sounds. We haven’t discussed the particulars, but she’s a kept woman now—my woman, whether she likes that part of our deal or not. That’s how it’s going to be. Having her makes me vulnerable to my enemies, and now she needs her own protection detail, which leaves my two best guys or myself.
“Then let Stevens take you.”
She groans. “Declan, no.”
“Not negotiable.” My finger taps her nose.
“Fine, but it’s a waste of his time.” Her protest is cute but pointless.
“Protecting you is never a waste of time. When will you be back?”
“Late…” Her voice trails off.
I tip her chin up, looking her squarely in the face. “Dinner.”
“I have a curfew now?” One brow rises in challenge.
“What you’ll have is a good spanking if you’re late to dinner. Maggie left a casserole. We can eat in.” I smirk.
Her cheeks flush and she knows the threat is idle unless she really wants a spanking—then I’m happy to oblige. She’s turned me into a damn teddy bear.
Softly she smiles. “Okay. Dinner.” She reaches up on her tiptoes and kisses my chin. I grunt, letting her go. If I reach for her again its game over, and the meeting with Neil will never happen.
I tap her ass on the way out and watch her walk d
own the steps and into the car with Stevens. He knows I’ll take Rhodes with me.
I shake my head, disappointed with myself for thinking Sydney was in my office, and open the door. It’s filled with her scent but that’s not new. I fuck her in here at least once a day, given the chance. The desk gives nice leverage when I want it, and seeing her perched on the corner while I work is a nice distraction.
I reach for a file on top when a breeze behind me pulls my attention. I turn and study the door to the vault. For the first time I find it’s not fully shut, and I yank it open. There’s an air duct and ventilation system that’s blocked when the door is shut. Obviously it wasn’t, and I don’t forget these things.
That niggling fear and doubt settle in and I sit down at my desk, pushing back in my chair, my hands resting behind my head while I look around the office for any other anomalies. My phone rings and I reach into my pocket to get it.
“Declan, you’re late.” Leave it to Neil to harass me about being on time. I’m surprised the party boy made it out of bed for our meeting, but I’m bothered by how Sydney left and unsure of what’s going on. Since we’ve been having sex, christening each room of the house, I turned the cameras off inside. No sense in recording what I could freely have, and I didn’t fuck women in my house if I don’t trust them. In fact, Sydney is the first.
The only.
I hate thinking that I’ve let my guard down foolishly.
“Hang on, Neil.” Standing up, I go to the vault, keeping the phone in one hand opening the door again, scanning each shelf and every file I keep in here. A few have little spots of dust, but one is empty. It’s a shelf I kept set aside for Tabitha’s inheritance—specifically one deed to a tract of property when Dad thought he could strengthen the family by marrying Tabby off to a business associate. Obviously I wasn’t going to let that happen and so the property has stayed barren, a dock on the waterfront worth a shitload of money to the right person. My fist clenches and I roar to the empty vault, cursing my stupidity.
I place the phone against my ear and mutter.