by Cox, Chloe
His breath on her breasts.
His weight on her thighs.
His touch, brief and tantalizing, on her stomach.
The feel of leather cuffs, slipping around her ankles. The way he spread her legs even further, anchoring the cuffs to the corners of the bed, making sure she was truly immobile. Imprisoned.
His.
“God, that’s pretty,” he said. “Let’s see you move.”
She felt something teasing at her entrance, something hard, plastic—not him. What was it? She had no idea, and it kept pressing, pressing…
She moaned. She moved her hips, straining against the cuffs.
He chuckled.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes!” she said. She could already feel herself building up, getting frustrated. It was amazing, nothing short of a miracle, that this was something he could do to her—turn it into a game, whether or not he’d let her come. Just a few weeks ago she’d been unsure if she’d orgasm with a partner ever again, and now she was basically his plaything.
That made her even hotter.
“Please,” she said.
“Nah,” Declan said. “Maybe later. First…”
Molly felt cold metal brush against her nipples and gasped. She had no idea what…
Then she felt the teeth closing around her nipples and cried out. In surprise or in pleasure or both, she didn’t know.
“Nipple clamps,” Declan said. “Feel the chain between them, then going down your stomach, between your legs?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“That’s a lead. It’s mine.” One set of cold, metal teeth closed around one nipple, then the other. The bite was just enough to sting continuously, something she couldn’t shut out of her mind.
“I control it,” he said, and pulled on the chain. The nipple clamps pulled tighter and Molly groaned, the fire shooting straight to her center, demanding to be quenched.
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Be good,” he said.
Molly was very, very tempted to be bad. Instead she bit her lip and nodded.
Then: she squealed.
He was pushing something into her ass.
Something very well lubed, but still something. She felt more lube, cold and thick and gooey, and Declan’s voice cut through all the sensation with a simple command: “Relax.”
Immediately she did, and pushed down. Whatever it was entered her with the little pop she remembered; it had been so, so long since she’d had…
“It’s very small,” Declan said. “But powerful.”
And he switched it on.
Molly’s body jerked up, not at all ready for the sensation of a vibrating butt plug. She already felt full with the intrusion, a delightfully dirty sensation she loved feeling for Declan, but now that it moved…
Her brain, her nerves, her body—none of them knew what to do. She was writhing, groaning, until she felt Declan’s weight on her. Steadying her. Holding her.
“Let it flow through,” he said from somewhere above her, and pulled on the nipple clamps, the fire adding to the vibrations, spiraling up into her until she arched. His lips covered hers in one of those brain-melting, consciousness-destroying kisses, and she was done. Her mind shut off, her body turned on, and the rest of her was somewhere nearby, floating in bliss.
He kissed his way down her neck, between her breasts, to her stomach, her belly button. His hands gripped her thighs and she heard him inhale deeply, and then she felt his hot, hungry mouth between her legs, and she arched again, screaming, crying.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
No one had ever eaten her like this, like he’d die without her, like what she held between her legs gave him life. The vibrations from the plug melded with his strokes and left her dizzy. He drove her right to the edge and then pulled back, leaving her with the vibrations of the plug, and a deep, deep need at her core.
“Beg,” he said, and pulled on the nipple chain.
Molly screamed. “Oh God, please, Declan!”
“Please what?” he said, leisurely, not letting up on her nipples, grazing her clit with his finger.
“Please let me come,” she wailed. “Please don’t stop, please.”
He smacked the side of her ass, one finger dipping in and out of her while the plug buzzed madly on. “You can do better than that.”
She shook her head, struggling against the restraints in a blind frenzy, needing to move, needing him now. “Fuck me,” she gasped. “Please, Declan, fill me.”
She heard a soft growl and then he pushed two fingers into her while she moaned. Then three. Then four. She felt full, so full, like she couldn’t possibly take any more, Declan filling her completely, fucking her completely.
“Now you can come,” he said, and put his mouth on her. He sucked her clit in his mouth and made her come with so much force that she nearly expelled everything.
Her throat hurt.
Her hamstrings hurt.
Everything, everything ached with the force of that orgasm, and it was still coming. Still overwhelming. Still a force ripping through her, leaving her with no choice but to submit and let it flow.
He held her. Drank her. Dominated her. Loved her.
“Oh God, you,” she remembered moaning, and didn’t want to have to explain it. Was thankful, now, for the blindfold, because she had no idea what was happening to her both inside and out, and she didn’t want him to see, the way he always saw through her.
Which was of course when he took the blindfold off.
“Look at me,” he said gruffly. She had no choice.
Molly remembered thinking she could lose time, looking at him. Into those dark eyes. Right then, she would have given up all the time in the world. She’d never felt so accepted, so cared for, so…
No.
She pressed her lips together and held them while he looked at her, his cock poised right at her entrance. Silently she shook her head, feeling tears gather at the corners of her eyes, and finally said, “Please.”
Declan held her face, wanting her to see him, to know he felt the same, while he filled her in one long, slow, punishing stroke.
Molly let the tears fall, and came again, and again, and again.
chapter 21
Seeing Molly in his uncle’s house was freaking weird. It was weird, and it was nice, and it felt good, and that made it weirder.
She was totally at home, too. Just shootin’ the shit with Uncle Jim, teasing them both, talking about going fishing on Jim’s boat. What the hell?
Even with their morning play, Declan and Molly had been up and about earlier than anyone else who was staying at Volare for the baby shower party thing. Apparently everyone else had had a late night rather than an early morning, but that was just fine with Declan—he’d rather spend time alone with Molly anyway. The guys in the band were all off doing their thing in the few days they had off before the big Madison Square Garden show, Club Volare was sleeping it off, and he had her all to herself.
And she’d insisted on seeing Uncle Jim, once she found out Declan was planning on visiting anyway. She had about a million reasons that all made sense, and she said it was in the book contract, which he hadn’t read in ages. What was he going to do, say no?
Well, come to think of it, he could. But Declan had some perverse curiosity about what would happen when Molly met Uncle Jim, like worlds colliding. Part of him thought it might change something when Molly finally saw him fully stripped of fame, since Jim did not tolerate any of that bullshit and always liked to let that be known.
And it did change something. It made everything more real.
And now Molly was laughing with Jim, like she was part of it. Part of this home, this life, this history. It was blowing his freaking mind.
“Molly, you here on business or pleasure? What’s the deal, you going to grill my ass?” Jim said, getting another set of beers from the fridge.
“You would love that, huh?” Molly laughed.
“Then maybe now that we’ve met, you’ll let me call you when Declan’s not here?” she asked. Declan marveled at the expression on her face. Sweet, but lethal.
Jim looked back at Declan. “You know you’re screwed, don’t you?”
“I’ve been told,” Declan said, finally pulling back a chair. “How do you know about all this stuff with Molly and the book?”
“C’mon, how do you think?” Jim scoffed. “Brian.”
“That fucking gossip.”
“And don’t ever let him change. Besides, I think I could take you, young lady. No offense.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said casually. And smiled.
But Molly was toying with the label on her beer bottle, tearing it off piece by piece and collecting the casualties in a neat little pile. And she kept looking sideways at Jim. For some reason, Declan went on high alert. She was planning something…
“Hey Jim,” she asked, sipping on that beer. “Who has the second toothbrush?”
Uncle Jim actually sputtered. Declan did a double take, but was the first to recover.
“Jim, are you getting laid? Are you fucking serious?”
Jim coughed some more beer, and Molly narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know Jim well enough to appreciate what a freaking happy miracle this was—there weren’t many gay men this far out on the island, and even fewer in Jim’s age range, though maybe at some point, that didn’t matter anymore.
“Yeah, I’m getting laid,” Jim said, glaring at Molly. “Truce?”
“Truce,” she agreed.
“Jim, come on. Fucking spill.”
“It’s not serious,” Jim said, getting up to clear the empties. Declan got a weird vibe—was his uncle avoiding his gaze? That would be a first. “He’s a state trooper. Lives kind of a long ways away, so, you know.”
“Toothbrush,” Declan said.
Jim just grunted.
Something wasn’t right there. Declan looked at Molly—she seemed to get it, too. Which was weird all over again. Had he really only met her a few weeks ago? This woman who was the best he’d ever had, sitting at his uncle’s table, drinking beer like she knew she belonged.
“Hey,” Jim said, waving a hand across Declan’s field of vision. “I asked you a question.”
“What?”
“How’s Bethany?”
Declan was still looking at Molly, which was maybe the only reason he saw her flinch. It was how he felt, too: like a crinkle had just come into an otherwise perfect day. Why would Jim bring Bethany up now? When he knew—or should have known—that Declan couldn’t give him a full answer?
“She’s fine, Jim,” Declan said. “Doing fine.”
“Good,” Jim said, and gave Declan a look. A steely look, the kind Declan used to get when there was something important that he had forgotten. “Didn’t I tell you it’d be fine?”
He had.
Over and over again.
It didn’t change anything. Declan was still going to watch his phone. He was still going to make those calls.
Declan stood up, ready to be back on his own with Molly, ready to be somewhere else—feeling like that for the first time in his uncle’s house.
“We gotta get back,” Declan said. “Baby shower.”
“Yeah, ok,” Jim said, drawing Molly into a big hug. “But you’re not getting out of fishing with me. Can you come the day after your last show at the Garden?”
Molly looked at Declan. “Can we?”
What was he going to do, say no?
~ * ~ * ~
They settled into silence in the car on the way back. Molly told herself it was just as well; she had a lot to think about. She should be thinking about the book, about what she was going to ask Jim, the man who knew more about Declan and Soren than anyone, about whether Jim had been telling the truth about his trooper boyfriend—there was a spare bedroom that didn’t look so spare anymore, which wasn’t really a boyfriend thing—about how she was going to deal with the party tonight at Club Volare.
But all she could think about was Jim asking Declan about Bethany. And how she’d felt that morning, when Declan was inside her.
The two things were not a great combination.
And they hadn’t talked about it yet. Not that she wanted to—God, did she not want to—but Molly kind of figured that Declan might be all over it. And instead he was pensive.
About Bethany?
Molly cringed and mentally tried to slap herself. She had absolutely no right, no right whatsoever, to be jealous. To feel…she didn’t even know what she felt. Hurt? She had no right to that, except of course that she did. Because whatever was going on between her and Declan didn’t feel like it followed the rules. Not his rules, not her rules, not the rules of logic.
Two people supremely in control of their lives, and they’d ended up like this. Who would have guessed?
“Hey,” Declan said. Molly had lost herself in looking out the window as they raced down the Long Island Expressway in the muscle car that Declan had rented. He was right—it was fun to drive, and be driven in. And it was beautiful out there. A clear summer day, sun glinting off the water, sailboats dotting the bay.
“Molly,” Declan said, a note of warning in his voice.
“Yeah, sorry,” she said. “Just thinking.”
“I bet,” he said, downshifting. There was no traffic, though, no one else out there in the middle of a weekday, so there was no reason to slow down. Declan continued, “So you gonna tell me about the crying this morning?”
“Oh, damn,” Molly said. She’d totally jinxed it.
“Come on, you knew you were going to have to tell me about crying during sex,” Declan smiled. “Don’t even try it.”
“Can I not, though? Really, just this once,” she pleaded.
Declan laughed, then switched to Dom voice, which got a laugh out of her even as it really did pull at her. He said, “No. Tell me. Now.”
She sighed. Fine. No fighting it.
“I don’t totally know,” she said, pulling at some of the stray threads on bottom of her skirt. “It’s just…you make me feel.”
“Feel what?”
“Just…feel. Really feel. And every time, it’s overwhelming, and I don’t know what’s going on, and then…I cry. It feels amazing. And it’s kind of terrifying.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. Just worked the muscle in his jaw, his neck. Molly was still looking at him when she realized they’d pulled off the highway, down a short road, and into a little parking area overlooking an old, eroded beach. Theirs was the only car.
Declan pulled up right to the edge of the lot, looking over the ruined remnants of sand dunes, reedy grass, markers telling people not to walk on the dunes. Farther out there were long-legged birds hunting for fish in the shallows, seagulls diving, all of this nature going about its business totally oblivious to the human beings nearby.
It was still, and peaceful, and frightening, because it meant there were no distractions. There was just what Molly had just told him. And whatever Declan was about to say.
He put his seat back and turned to face her, his expression so serious she wanted to laugh because it made her nervous.
But his eyes were kind. Caring.
Worried.
“You enjoy it,” he said carefully.
“I don’t just enjoy it,” Molly said, utterly unable to keep anything from him when he looked at her like that. “It’s…God. I don’t even know what to call it. It’s revelatory.”
Declan didn’t gloat, didn’t preen or anything. He knew what it was already. He just sat across from her, looking like a freaking god, being attentive and understanding.
What was a woman supposed to do to defend against that?
“Then what terrifies you?” he asked.
Oh shit. She was tearing up again. Again!
“Seriously?”
she said, wiping her eyes. “I don’t cry for years, and now I’m like…Jesus.”
Declan reached across her to get to the glove compartment, his arm brushing her breasts, and she gasped a little bit. How she could have both reactions to him, emotional and physical, at the same time—it wasn’t fair. Her brain couldn’t process it. Or maybe it was her heart.
“Here,” he said, and offered her a tissue.
She stared at him.
“You brought tissues?” she asked, incredulous.
Now he smiled. “Of course I brought tissues.”
“You would,” she said, laughing while she wiped away tears.
“Molly,” he said, touching her chin with one finger, guiding her toward him. “Why didn’t you cry for years?”
“Oh boy,” she said. This would take a minute. “I don’t…I guess the short version is that it was all too much. I told you about the…the miscarriage.”
There. She could say it without melting into a puddle of tears. Progress.
“Well, the guy I was with, Robbie, was a real dick. Told everyone I cheated because I was some sex-crazed kinkster, got a new girlfriend, turned his entire crew at the park against me. They…they were pretty hard on me, and then I lost the baby. They still all think I’m a quote unquote cheating slut, still hate me, still treat me like shit. They even started in on Lydia before she left, which is why I don’t…well, it doesn’t matter. I’m getting out of there, thanks to you.”
“Thanks to yourself. You got this job, I didn’t give it you,” Declan interrupted, his voice stern. Then he softened. “Keep going.”
“Well, Robbie made sure I was totally ostracized. I lost the baby, and then…my mom died. All in the same year. Just all this stuff. It was so much loss, all at once, and I just…I don’t know. Shut off. Went hard. Turned to stone.” She shrugged. “It helped. It meant I could work through school and get good grades. And now all I have is this job, and Lydia.”
“When was the last time you heard from her?” he asked.
This surprised Molly, but it shouldn’t have. Of course he’d been paying attention when she’d wandered off with her phone.
Well, there was no prettying it up. Little sisters were little sisters. It wasn’t like Molly was a part of Lydia’s daily life anymore, not with their dad watching over her.