Rashae shifted, straddling his lap. Thank goodness for SUVs. They were made with room to spare for big girls like her. Declan pushed his hands up, under her shirt. She groaned at his touch, the rough feel of his thumbs over her nipples. Her bra had been the first thing to go. Now all she wore were panties and her thermal shirt.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” His accent was stronger, blurring the lines between one word and the next.
“Mm-hm.” She arched her back, gripping the arm rests, and ground against him.
“Come ‘ere.” He pulled her forward, hooking an arm under her bottom to lift her just the right amount. He pushed her shirt up and latched his lips around one nipple.
“Oh—oh my, oh my—Declan...”
She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. He bit down on the aroused flesh, not hard enough to hurt, just make her toes curl and her squirm with awareness. He palmed her other breast, rubbing his work roughened hands over her sensitized areola. She braced a hand on the top of the SUV and closed her eyes.
A man shouldn’t have so many talents.
He switched breasts, repeating the same ministrations until she was panting and calling his name.
Sex had always been a thing done in dark rooms, because she wanted a connection. With Declan, it was...different. There was a thrill, lust, excitement. A whole new world of desires her body wasn’t ready for. She was turning into an addict. Sex a day for three days straight? What would she do without him in her life?
No, she couldn’t go there.
Declan pulled her panties aside and pumped his fingers into her pussy. She grabbed the oh-shit-handle and lifted her hips, giving him better access. He tilted the seat back a bit with one hand, all the while stroking her inner walls with his other.
She could hear herself in a detached sort of way. Yes, that was her voice, but her mind was lost on a tidal wave of feeling. The cool air puckered her damp nipples. The SUV’s vibrations added to the intensity of his touch.
It wouldn’t take much for her to orgasm.
This was a new world. A whole new state of being. Before Declan, she’d never come with a man inside of her. Now, it was the only way she wanted to orgasm.
“Declan,” she panted his name.
“Right here, sexy.”
“No. Not yet.” She grasped his belt, clawing at the catch.
He pulled his hand out of her and pushed her hands aside. He yanked the belt free and had his jeans down before she could catch her breath. She gripped the arm rests, the hum of anticipation pounding through her veins.
Declan pulled a condom packet from his pocket and held it to her lips. She bit down in the very edge. He shoved his underwear and jeans down, working them to his knees.
She wrapped her hand around his cock. He made her feel pleasure like she’d never known with a man. She wanted...to give some back to him.
“Don’t play with me, Rashae.”
“This doesn’t feel good?” She twisted her hand around his erection.
“Not as good as your pussy.”
Her breath caught. He was right, but hearing him speak so frankly, his tone raw with need—this wasn’t just her. He felt it, too.
Rashae released him, but only to roll the condom on.
Headlights slashed across the windshield. She froze for a second.
They were in public.
She swallowed.
“The car’s sixty yards away. They just turned.” He pushed her curls off her face.
Right.
She glanced over her shoulder just to make sure. They were alone. They could still be caught at any second.
For a moment, her desire for Declan and her fear of getting caught hung perfectly balanced.
It was Christmas Eve...
People were rushing around, doing their own thing.
No one would pause to give them a second glance.
It was worth the risk. This one time.
Rashae exhaled and turned her gaze back to Declan. He watched her, hands digging into her hips, but otherwise waiting for...her permission? Her go ahead?
She leaned forward, sealing her lips over his and grasped his cock. He yanked her panties aside again.
Was that a rip she heard?
Who cared?
She rose up on her knees. He covered her hand with his, showing her where to put him. She felt the first glide of his flesh between her labia, so warm and hard. She sank onto him.
“Easy,” Declan hissed.
She didn’t want easy.
Rashae let gravity guide her and clutched his shoulders, her fingers curling into his thick sweater. She gasped for breath. The feel of him deep inside like this was different. Good.
Declan sat up, pressing their chests together. He slid his hand up under her shirt and caressed her nipples. His lips skated over her cheek to the corner of her mouth.
“It’s all you, Rashae. Fuck me.”
She kept one hand on his shoulders and grasped the door with the other. He leaned back, both hands playing her breasts, keeping her focus divided.
Rashae rose, her thighs shaking with the intensity of her desire. The first few strokes were slow, exploratory, while she figured out how to move in such a confined space. Declan lifted his hips, grinding their pelvises together.
She groaned, a new sense of urgency unfurling within her.
He hooked one arm around the back of her thighs and lifted his hips, bringing their bodies together harder. Deeper.
She dug her nails into his shoulders and groaned.
“Oh—yes. Like that. Again.”
Declan grinned.
Her muscles warmed, and though she was doing the moving, setting the pace, he guided her. He stared deep into her eyes, the hunger mirroring her own.
She planted a hand on the roof of the SUV and slid her other from his shoulder up into his hair. She tightened her grip, rather liking the way his eyes narrowed, daring her to do something.
Declan liked his control. She didn’t know a lot about him, but that was clear. And he’d given that to her. It meant something. Something she didn’t want to think about much because she was already too close to a line. Once she crossed that line, there’d be no going back.
She closed her eyes and focused on the feel of him. How her muscles constricted around him, how their bodies fit, the way he played her body.
Rashae was on top of the world.
Declan pistoned into her, bringing her hips down hard.
She gasped, stars blossomed in her vision, and a cascade of pleasure sent her spiraling off into bliss. She dug her fingers into Declan’s shoulders, needing to hold onto him. He continued to pump into her while the orgasm wracked her body, going on and on. He said things she couldn’t hear. He pulled her down, kissing her mouth while his hips drove into her again and again until he froze, his whole body tensing. She shifted, rolling her hips, keeping them joined and kissing his face.
They twined their arms around each other. Rashae peppered his face with kisses. The warm, languid sensation was...greater than before.
She...cared for him. Not just as friends but...as more.
Could they do this? Fuck around and then walk away? What else was there for people like them?
Rasahe buried her face in the crook of his neck.
No, she couldn’t go there.
She’d...care for him while she had him, and when it was done, when this project was over, she’d worry about it then. For now, they’d have this.
“I think you broke my ear drum that time.” Declan chuckled and patted her bottom.
“Sorry?”
“Don’t be sorry, be proud.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, such a random act, and yet...when he’d had everything he could have wanted, he kissed her nose. It was important. Something inside of her shifted as though her internal parts were moving around, making room for something else.
She didn’t want to know what the something else might be.
15.
&n
bsp; D
eclan traced the lines carved in the wooden arm rests. When Rashae had said Christmas morning was a casual affair...he hadn’t expected pajamas. So far, he was the only one not wearing flannel pants and slippers. He wasn’t sure he owned anything that was technically called pajamas.
The ladies were laughing and bustling around the kitchen after a feast of a breakfast while the men were supposed to be setting up for the single present exchange. In truth, Timothy, Sebastian and Declan were watching Oliver, who’d settled on the sofa with a trash can close at hand. Just the smell of breakfast was enough to send the man into heaving fits again.
Poor guy.
Even Oliver’s plight couldn’t distract Declan from the impending present exchange. The last gifts he’d given had been stolen out of a bed of a pick-up. He’d found a hefty shovel, the kind Da needed for work, and snitched it. Not his proudest moment, but his father had beamed when he saw it. He’d been raised on the motto finder’s keepers, though it had never sat well with him.
The things under the tree were bought. With his hard-earned money. It was something he was proud of, silly though it were. A grown man. Proud of buying something. It was probably a result of the guilt he was doing a good job of ignoring. He was sneaking around with Mr. Grant’s daughter. Under his own roof. And lying to Rashae’s face. Any honorable man would have the decency to feel a tad bit guilty. And Declan did every now and then.
“Way to leave all the work to us.” Rashae smacked his shoulder and leaned against his chair.
“Here, sit.” Declan stood. What with Oliver taking up the sofa, there wasn’t a lot of space left to accommodate the ladies.
“Shae, hand out the presents?” Helen settled on the love seat with her oldest daughter.
“Help me, Declan.” She brushed her fingers with his.
This wasn’t his family. It wasn’t his place to usurp their traditions. He glanced at the others, looking for some sort of cue.
Samantha perched on the sofa next to her fiancé, stroking his brow. Lily was chatting with her mother, hardly paying attention. Which left Sebastian, tinkering on his phone, and Timothy watching expectantly.
“Here, you have to wear the hat.” Rashae stood on tip toe and tugged a red and white Santa hat onto his head.
She wore one similar to his with a sprig of holly on the band and a tiara sewn to the front.
“Okay, here, give this to Mom, please?” Rashae handed him a square package decked out in glitter with green on green stripes and a huge red bow.
“Really?” He held it away from his body and watched the shiny, sparkly grains rain off.
“What?” Rashae blinked at him, the innocent expression ruined by that fairy sparkle in her eye.
“Oh, I’ll remember this.” He crossed the room, glitter marking his path. “Here you are, Helen.”
Declan quickly saw a trend. The younger crowd all gave one present, while the parents gifted each of them something else. No one made a move to open their loot, though there was plenty of shaking and weighing packages.
“What’s this?” Timothy frowned at a heavier box Declan handed him.
“Dunno.” His hands were sweating. When they’d arrived, he’d made sure to stash his gifts at the back of the tree...which meant they were the last to come out.
“And this one’s for...mom?” Rashae frowned at the label.
“Yes.” Declan plucked it from her fingers and carried the small, light box across the room.
“Another one?” Helen’s eyes widened. She glanced at the tag. “Declan—you shouldn’t have.”
“Guess I didn’t know the rules.” He winked and she smiled.
He turned, and eyed the two presents in Rashae’s hands. She looked...like the cat who got the canary.
“These are for you.” She pushed the two packages into his hands.
“But—”
“Sit. Open them. Merry Christmas.” Her smile was a grin now.
Declan sat back in his chair, blinking at the two packages.
When was the last time someone had given him a Christmas present? Besides the monogrammed mugs of hot chocolate mix the house manager gave everyone.
His chest tightened.
He could visualize the present, the paper wrinkled as though it’d been used before, a tiny rip on one corner. The hands of memory pulled back the wrapping. His sisters had gotten together to buy him a new bit and headstall for his racing pony. The little shit had a tender mouth and nasty temper, but one hell of a spirit for the races.
Declan had meant to take him to the yearly Traveler gathering. Enter the races. Win some money. Maybe start saving for his own caravan someday. He’d been fifteen with the world opening up before him. All the opportunity of the world at his feet. How fast it’d dried up and blown away, like so much ash on a breeze.
“Hey.” Rashae wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing a bit.
“Sorry, had a moment there.”
“It’s okay.” She tilted her head toward Lily, who was currently opening a present, and Sebastian who had already unwrapped his two.
Declan gave her hand a squeeze. Memory was a powerful thing.
“Rashae, Declan—your turn.” Timothy grinned at them.
“You go first,” Declan said, not quite ready for the unwrapping.
“Someone didn’t play by the rules.” She glared up at him, three presents in front of her.
“I’m not a rules lawyer.” He shrugged.
“Don’t anyone yell at me because I got more presents than they did. I told him—one present. How many did you bring, anyway?”
“Uh, dunno.” He shrugged and shifted in his seat.
“Mom and Dad both got ones from Declan,” Sam offered. She was as much of an imp as her sister, but better disguised.
“I can tell you he doesn’t play fair.” Timothy wagged his finger at Declan. “I still think you cheated.”
Timothy grinned, just like Rashae. The man liked to rile up his daughters in a game and then sneak past them to make a grab for the win. Declan had sat back and watched Timothy do it, too, by insisting Declan cheated. Mr. Grant might have an old, fatherly disposition, but he also had a very sharp mind.
Rashae opened the smallest present first. She lifted out a silver chain bedecked with...were those frosted animal cookies?
“Oh—my—God. Sam!” Rashae gaped at her younger sister.
“What is it?” Helen squinted.
“It’s a necklace! I’ve been drooling over this woman’s stuff on Instagram. Sam—you shouldn’t have.”
“You wanted it, and you wouldn’t buy it for yourself.” Sam grinned.
“Thank you, boo.” Rashae pushed up off the coffee table and crossed the space to hug her sister.
“Declan open one up,” Timothy urged.
Declan froze, his hands latched around the bottom present. This was—he shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong with these kind, normal people. Didn’t they know what he was? He knew that was his conscience talking. It was becoming harder to silence it.
“Open the bottom one.” Rashae pulled the present on top off and put it next to hers.
All eyes were on him.
He swallowed.
There was nothing else to be done. He couldn’t run out of here. He had to press on.
Declan sucked down a deep breath and turned the rectangular package over. It was oddly shaped, not like a box, but...something with weight. What the hell was it?
He carefully slid his finger between the tape and paper.
“You’re supposed to rip into it.” Sam made ripping motions.
“Stop telling people how to open their presents, bratface.” Rashae wagged her finger at her sister.
Sam stuck her tongue out.
Declan folded the paper aside one side at a time.
It was...the back of an old picture frame.
“What is it?” Rashae leaned forward.
“I wonder.” He stared at her for a second.
Thi
s was her present to him.
Declan turned the frame over and froze.
He’d seen those lines when they’d been rough, barely formed figures. The colors were...more vibrant. The weight of the letters heavier.
“What is it?” Timothy asked.
Declan opened and closed his mouth.
He couldn’t speak.
“I took liberties with some of the open space.” Rashae leaned forward, speaking softly. “This—that’s the design you drew for the cyberpunk crests, only I gave them more flourishes. And here—that’s your little hatchet sketch.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, but it was still hard to breathe.
“Show us.” The girl’s father was probably the worst of them.
Declan turned the frame around to face the others.
“What is that?” Lily scrunched up her face.
“It’s a picture?” Sam glanced from him to Rashae.
“Declan is designing a game.” She twisted to face the rest of her family. “I saw some sketches of what he wanted the box to look like so I made a mock-up and had it printed when we got here.”
“That’s what you wanted that old frame for!” Helen’s brows rose.
“Yeah, just make it look nicer.” Rashae twisted back to face him. “You can hate it—”
“It’s amazin’.” He laid it back in his lap and ran his fingers over the gold frame.
Timothy prompted Rashae to open her next present, but Declan couldn’t tear his eyes from the picture. It was so...detailed. He wouldn’t call this a mock-up—it was a finished work of art. Once again, she’d turned his rough ideas into a thing of beauty. If he’d ever doubted her ability to churn out a spot-on game design, he was holding proof she could do it in his hands.
He watched her, not quite connected to the moment, and more than a bit dazed. He admired her for more than just her art. She was generous with herself. And maybe that was only because he’d been admitted to her inner circle, but still. He was a poor man with nothing to offer her, and she’d given him a piece of herself on paper. She’d shared moments with him. More than sex. She’d let him see her. He didn’t deserve this. Her. Any of it. When they got back to DC, when this was over, he was going to tell her. All of it. And if she walked away from him, so be it. He’d made this bed.
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 13