“Done,” he promised, finality in that one word. “And just so you know, there was never any question that’s what this would be. I’ve thought about this for so long, wanted you as much as I’ve ever wanted anything. I have no intention of screwing up one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”
He rubbed his rough, calloused thumb across my cheek. Dropping his eyes, he cradled my face in his hands and watched his fingers stroke along the apples of my cheeks. Finally, his eyes landed back on mine. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I shook my head because I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
“You ruin me.” He dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “Just completely destroy me,” he added, taking the kiss deeper.
“Let me show you Sophie,” he whispered, his gaze locked on mine. “I promise it’ll be good. I’ll be so good to you.”
I nodded and he licked the seam of my lips. Opening to him, felt the tangle of his tongue against my own, the taste of him imprinted forever on my memory.
“Yes,” I whispered and kissed him back, hungrily, as he scooped me into his arms and carried me to bed.
Declan
For years I’d imagined this moment, what it would be like. But now that I was here, I experienced a moment of panic, worried that my fantasy wouldn’t live up to reality.
“What?” she asked on a breathless whisper. “You’re staring.”
“I can’t help myself.”
I needed to stop though, and soon because her eyes threatened to undo me.
You can do this, I told myself. This is Sophie. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.
But even as I tried to convince myself, my panic escalated. This level of intimacy terrified me. And even though I wanted it with this amazing, beautiful woman, I didn’t know if I could bring myself to cross that line.
The truth was, I liked my sex rough and expedient, with zero emotional ties. I shied away from fucking anyone I cared about, or could imagine myself coming to care for in the future. I didn’t just avoid intimacy, I rejected it entirely. I wasn’t soft. I didn’t linger afterwards or cuddle. I’d never whispered words of endearment or stared longingly into a woman’s eyes as I claimed her. The reality was, I didn’t look them in the eye at all. Ever.
I never led those women on about what I wanted from them. Everyone knew the score: wham, bam, thank you ma’am. I wasn’t a complete asshole though; I made sure they came. I just couldn’t give them any more than that.
But what I felt for Sophie wasn’t how it was with the others. It went deeper than anything I’d ever felt. I cared about her happiness and I wanted to take the time to cherish and adore her. For the first time in the history of ever, I needed this to mean something. The problem was, I didn’t know if I had it in me to deliver. I didn’t make gentle, sentimental love and as much as I wanted to give her everything she’d ever wanted, I didn’t think I could give her that.
And that’s what had me freaking out.
Pushing those concerns to the back of my mind, I focused on the lovely, soft woman laying beneath me. I nuzzled my face into her neck, the sandpaper of my five o’clock shadow abrading her silky, jasmine-scented skin. I grazed her skin with my teeth, and running my hand up her shirt, palmed her breast through the lace of her bra. I nipped her flesh between my teeth, the sharp sting of my bite and the soft caress of my tongue delivering both pleasure and pain.
Sophie let out a tiny whimper that morphed into a moan of ecstasy and fisted her hand in my hair. She pressed me closer, her silent plea spurring me on. I bit down again and then sucked her marked flesh into my mouth to sooth the ache. Grinding the hardness of my erection against her, I angled my face away to take in my handiwork. My teeth marks were rimmed in red, the creamy whiteness of her skin showing my brand. I smiled in satisfaction and rolled my hips against her, relishing the friction.
“What was …” she whispered on a breathy sigh. My eyes drifted to hers and she swallowed.
“You’re mine.”
“Did you just mark me?” she asked wonderingly, raising her hand to her neck.
“Yes,” I answered, my groin tightening at the idea of marking her all over. Branding her. Claiming her. Making her mine.
But then guilt consumed me. Sophie wasn’t some tart who’d show off my marks while she bragged to her friends about fucking me up against a wall outside a club. Sophie deserved to be treated like a queen … and one did not maul a queen.
I can do this, I thought. Be the gentleman she deserves; hide the beast I truly am.
Sophie peered up at me, the wheels of her mind turning as she continued stroking her collar bone with the pads of her fingers.
“And this … biting … is that a thing you typically do?”
Reluctantly, I scooted away and watched as she tentatively pulled her cardigan around herself and readjusted her position on the sofa.
“Yes, it is,” I answered, running my hand through tousled, tangled locks that were in desperate need of a cut.
I sighed. Neither of us was going to like what came next. “We probably need to talk about that.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Sophie
Anytime a guy stopped himself during a pretty fantastic make-out session and said you needed to talk, bad things inevitably followed. Statements like, “it’s not you, it’s me,” “I don’t think we’re compatible,” or “I’m just not attracted to you in that way.”
(The last time I heard that one, it turned out the guy was gay but was trying to convince himself he wasn’t. Apparently, I’d been his third and final attempt at going straight and when he’d kissed me and only felt revulsion, had decided it was just no use. His epiphany really put a damper on New Year’s Eve 2012.)
But unlike that guy, there’d been no mistaking just how much Declan liked kissing me; I’d felt the hard steel of his erection straining against his jeans. And then there was the whole caveman thing when he’d bit me. It had stung for a quick second but once he’d soothed me with his talented tongue and sweet, tender kisses, I’d been surprised by how much I’d liked it.
Maybe I was vanilla, or had only known vanilla people, but biting—especially with such … gusto, I guess you could say—wasn’t something I’d ever encountered. Something I didn’t really know people did outside of those who liked things a little darker and kinkier. Was Declan once of those people?
Keeping my voice light, I asked, “Is this the part where you tell me you’re into some freaky shit?”
I’d thought he would chuckle and tell me I had an overactive imagination, but he growled and pushed himself off the bed. Wearing a tread in the carpet from pacing, I realized I’d said something wrong.
Stopping abruptly, he turned to face me, his hands linked on top of his head. “Yes,” he bit out. “I am into some freaky shit.” He winced and it was clear he was pained by the admission.
While part of me was filled with dread, another was titillated and just a tiny bit curious.
What sort of kinky stuff? I wondered.
“The truth is …”
Except he didn’t tell me what the truth was. Instead, he looked away and resumed his pacing.
I stayed silent, but inwardly I was beginning to panic. I’d been flippant with my comment, but now I wondered if things weren’t about to get a whole lot darker than I was prepared for.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stand-still in front of the suite’s bank of windows, the sunlight streaming through the mullioned panes and silhouetting his body in shadow.
He dropped his hands and angled his head to watch me watching him. Dropping into a nearby chair, he rested his forearms on his thick, muscular thighs.
“I’ve never really talked about this before,” he began. “It’s something everyone just knows about me.” He looked down and fidgeted with his thumb nail.
I didn’t know what to make of this version of Declan—anxious and unsure of himself. The Declan I knew was confidence personified. His nerve
s ratcheted up my own.
“You can tell me anything,” I coaxed, not able to stand the anticipation another moment.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” And then, because I thought it was important for him to know, I added, “I won’t judge you. Whatever it is.”
“You say that now,” he muttered as he looked away.
For a few moments I watched him marshal his resolve. Finally, he stood and walked back over to me. His face etched with concern, he confessed, “I like rough sex.”
I let his words sink in and wondered what he meant by “rough.” A number of scenarios flashed through my mind, everything from his obvious enjoyment of biting to what I knew of bondage, and then to some of the kinkier stuff I’d read about and heard some of my friends talk about.
Meanwhile, he watched me like a hawk as I mulled his words over in my mind.
“Are you going to say anything?”
“Rough has kind of a broad definition, doesn’t it? It’s clear you like biting.” I indicated the spot on my collarbone.
“Among other things.” He eyes roamed my body.
“Such as?”
In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. Because even though my heart was beating a mile a minute in my chest, I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation. And that shocked me. I don’t know if I’d have reacted this way to anyone else admitting their deepest, darkest fantasies to me, but with Declan it seemed right.
“Hard. Fast. Aggressive.”
Wait. Did he think wanting it like that wasn’t normal? Or that I wouldn’t welcome a fast, hard fuck? Or was there something more? Something worse?
Ah, shit, I thought, he’s into BDSM.
Which was pretty much where I drew the line on exploring my sexuality. I’d visited a sex club and interviewed a female dom for a story I’d co-written for a U.K. magazine two years ago and I absolutely, positively knew that stuff wasn’t for me.
Intellectually I understood why people were into the lifestyle—craved the release it gave them—but I wasn’t personally turned on by it. Theoretically, I had nothing against having my hands tied up (even though I’d never had anyone ask to do that to me, hence the theoretically), but there was no way in hell some guy was slapping a ball gag on me and flogging me with a cat o’nine tails … or worse.
“How hard?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, worried he’d reveal that’s exactly what he wanted to do to me.
His steely gaze never faltering, he placed his palms flat on the mattress, caging me in. Eyeing me speculatively, he said, “I want you to ache for me when I’m gone.”
My stomach fluttered and I grew even wetter. It wasn’t like me to be turned on by such crudeness, so the spike of lust I felt over his filthy words was surprising.
He licked his lips, drawing my eyes to them, and I imagined all the wicked ways he could use that mouth on me.
The nervous, fidgeting Declan was gone. Back was the sexy, confidence I loved. This was a man who categorically knew what he wanted and made no apology for it.
“You don’t …” I started but then faltered. As sexy as I found him right this minute, I still needed to clear one thing up. “You won’t hit me, will you?”
I might be down with some light spanking, but no way was I letting him smack me around. Recalling some of what I’d seen at the sex dungeon, I inwardly shuddered.
“No, I don’t hit women Sophie. That’s not … no.” Disgust flashed in his eyes and he took a deep breath and stood. “No, I won’t hurt you like that.”
“Help me understand what I’m signing up for then. You say you like it rough but you won’t hurt me. How do you want it then?”
His eyes locked with mine.
“Me pounding into you, pulling your hair tight in my fist, your neck taught and bared to my teeth. You screaming my name and pulling my hair as you come around me. My cock thrusting mercilessly into your wet cunt until we both shatter with our release.”
I pictured everything he said and felt heat rise in my cheeks and the quickening of my pulse.
“I want to fuck you so hard right now when I’m done you won’t know your own name. But you’ll never forget mine.”
When he eased onto the bed on all fours and slinked toward me, a panther stalking its prey, my heart thumped furiously in my chest. But I wasn’t frightened. I wanted him to fuck me so hard I’d forget my name.
“I want you to fuck me like that too. I want you to leave your mark on me. I want to feel you everywhere, all over my body, and I don’t ever want to stop.”
His mouth a breath away from mine, he whispered against my mouth, “Do you want me to fuck you like that? Do you want it so bad you ache with it?”
My lips parted on a delirious pant and I gave him the truth. “Yes. Just like that.”
Declan
It took an epic amount of self-control not to claim her right then, but ’d fantasized about this moment for practically my whole life. This was new to her, but it was the culmination of something profound for me. I wanted to be good enough for her, for her to believe there was more to me than what others whispered behind my back.
I breathed her in, taking my time kissing her skin, savoring her. If anyone could save me from myself, it’d be this woman. If anyone could make me a better man, Sophie would be it. If I couldn’t give her romance and passion, then I was truly a lost cause.
Taking her earlobe between my teeth, I nibbled and her sweet sigh had my cock twitching in my jeans, reminding me how desperately I wanted to slide into her warm, wet heat. I rested my rough, calloused palm against the creamy softness of her skin and when I trailed my mouth from her neck to claim her lips in a hungry kiss, she arched into me.
“More,” she demanded.
I sat back on my heels, pulling her up with me, and forced myself to take a moment to appreciate her beauty. Now that I had her right where I wanted, I needed to linger a little while longer.
“You’re beautiful,” I said reverently, trailing my hand up her middle and over her collarbone where my teeth marks were still visible. “I’ve thought of you like this longer than you’ll ever know.”
She laughed, a throaty sound that did wonderful things to me.
“Only like this?” she asked, her voice thick with desire, as she unclasped her bra and slowly, deliberately pushed the lacy straps off her shoulders and down each arm.
I followed the fabric’s movement with my eyes, wanting to prolong my anticipation. Never again would it be the first time I’d see Sophie’s luscious, glorious tits bared to me.
“You’re going to kill me,” I groaned once her bra was gone.
My mouth watered as I cupped her glorious tits in my hands and rubbing my thumbs over her nipples, she shivered and sighed. I eased her back onto the mattress and took one of those straining peaks into my mouth, teased it with my lips, tongue and teeth. I felt like a god when Sophie pushed her hands roughly into my hair and pulled me closer.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said, her hands dragging against the fabric of my shirt.
When I sat back and pulled my henley over my head, Sophie’s breath hitched. Resting her small, warm palm flat against the corded muscles of my abdomen, her fingers traced the outlines of my six pack. Her brows furrowed when she took in the purple and green bruises that mottled my skin courtesy of my last match.
“Does it hurt?” She ghosted her fingers over one of the more violent ones.
“Not too bad.”
The truth was they had been hurting but I hadn’t thought about the bruises or my pain since I’d kissed her in the park.
“How do you stand it?” she asked while she continued exploring my naked torso.
“That’s the life of a rugby player. Our bodies take a beating every time we step out on the pitch. If you walk away with clean clothes and no marks you haven’t done your job.”
“I don’t think I could do it.”
“It’s all I’ve ever known.” I shrugged. “Since I w
as a boy, rugby was what I wanted to do with my life. The aches and pains are part of that.”
“You’re magnificent, even all bruised and broken” she whispered, trailing the soft pads of her fingertips over my nipple. I shivered from the light caress, a sensation I felt deep in my balls.
“You like that?” she asked as she scratched her fingernails down the other one.
My shudder told her exactly how much I liked it.
It had been a long time—too long, I realized—since I’d let a woman explore my body at her leisure. If you’d have asked me yesterday what I thought of foreplay, I’d have told you it was a waste of time, but god, I loved this. Sophie exploring my body, discovering how it responded to her touch, was everything to me.
“What else you do like?”
Oh god, the things I could do to her.
“Why don’t you find out?”
She dragged her nails down the center of my stomach and I clenched my muscles against the tingling trail left in their wake. I waited with bated breath as her hands hovered over the button of my jeans, teasing me, before she palmed the hard length of my thick, pulsing cock. Biting back a curse, I sucked in a lungful of air and let it out slowly as she ran her hand up and down my aching shaft.
“I want your cock in my mouth,” she said, wicked delight lacing her words.
I groaned and thrust against her wandering palm.
“Yes,” I said, with another pump of my hips. “Please wrap those beautiful pink lips around my cock and suck me dry. Please, please, please.”
I didn’t even care that I was begging.
Sophie
I pressed Declan down onto the mattress and straddled him. The drag of his zipper echoed like a ricochet in the room just before he lifted his pelvis, making it easier for me to yank his pants down those powerful, muscular thighs. I stopped a moment to take him in. No man I’d ever seen could hold a candle to the magnificence on display before me. I sighed with satisfaction knowing he was all mine.
Trying Sophie: A Dublin Rugby Romance Page 20