Declan chuckles and embarrassment lights my cheeks again. “A safe word,” he repeats with a deadly grin. One that’s both charming but condescending. “You’d like a safe word?”
I can only nod.
“What word?” he questions and I already know what word I’d use.
“Red.”
His gaze searches mine and I have no idea what he’s looking for. “I’ll allow it. Another rule.” His tone turns businesslike, although his arms remain cradling me. “You won’t call me Declan in front of anyone ever again.” His hand moves up to my knee, slides up to my thigh, and then he places it between my legs. As he cups my heat, I moan from the pressure he places on my clit. With my eyes closed he whispers at my neck, “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. He rocks his palm, telling me what a good little pet I am for him. I’m already wet for him again. It’s like he never stopped playing with me. “Here, it’s fine. When it’s us. But you will refer to me as Sir.”
I nod, but then swallow nervously wondering if I should dare to voice my next condition. “I don’t want to be called a toy or a pet to anyone else,” I manage to say, though it makes me nervous to do it.
He pauses his movements and I peer up into his dark gaze. “Just between us?” he says. “You do like it, don’t you?”
“I like it.” My face reddens. It’s true. I really do like it.
“Then what should I tell others you are, little pet of mine?”
“I don’t know,” I say on a breath.
“I could call you mine.” My heart beats faster than it ever has, and harder. “You think you’d like that?”
“I think … I think I could manage to like it.”
He makes a low noise and lifts me from his lap, spreading the blanket out on the desk and me along with it. One heel falls off and he doesn’t give me a moment to retrieve it. I’m spread bare across his desk, wearing only my left heel. Declan’s hands move fast at his belt and between my legs, and within moments he’s pushing into me. Filling me and forcing a cry of pleasure from me. Fuck. “My little pet,” he says as he thrusts into me with deep, long strokes. “Mine.”
Braelynn
Days go by in an exhausted haze.
I’ve never been this deliciously sore in my life. I’m sore from Declan.
It’s a nine-to-five, so to speak; technically my workday starts at 6:00 at night and goes to nearly 3:00 in the morning. I do a lot of work with bookkeeping and records, but every moment I’m on edge and waiting. Being his personal pet, his toy, it’s invigorating.
One moment I’m filing papers like he told me to, the next his hand wraps around the back of my neck and hours pass getting lost in his touch. Being used and fucked and then kissed like he needs to kiss me just to keep breathing.
Readjusting on the sofa, I’m hot and bothered all over again. Even though I’m alone, I can’t get the memories of the last few days out of my head, and I’m not sure I want to. His fingers between my legs. Nate’s presence on the other side of the desk, watching. It’s far dirtier than anything I imagined when Scarlet explained what the rooms on the lower floor were used for.
A smirk pulls up my lips and I hide it behind the throw blanket in my hand, pulling my knees up which elicits a slight pain from how sore I am.
I’m certain I know what’s most addicting. It’s like he can’t get enough of me.
I’ll think he’s sated but then his eyes darken and I’m spread out on his desk again. Or bent over it. I take a sip of my chamomile tea and get comfortable with the blanket up over me. Rubbing my tired eyes, I note the day has come and gone and I spent most of it sleeping, unpacking here and there, but catching up on rest. With the dull drone of the TV serving as background noise, something’s on the screen, but I couldn’t tell you what.
It’s not a real priority when Declan’s on my mind. Nothing is a priority when I’m thinking about him.
I’ve never been fucked the way he fucks me. He’s hard and possessive about it, and insatiable. I don’t feel fragile with him. His intensity is like nothing I’ve ever encountered, and some parts of it do scare me, but at the same time …
I think I’m falling for him a bit. For Declan Cross.
Nervous butterflies create a storm in the pit of my stomach and I combat it with a sip of tea. The man he grew up to be is nothing like that hollow-eyed boy in gym class. He has more secrets now, and he and his brothers have power. People fear them, and they should, because the Cross brothers aren’t to be fucked with.