Declan's Demand

She shifts on her knees and I crank her head back. “Open those pretty goddamn lips, angel, and suck me.”

She licks them and parts them wide as instructed. I guide my rigid cock, pumping it a few times before fitting it between her hot, panting lips. She closes her eyes and molds her pretty pink cupid’s bow around my shaft, stretching her mouth. My hips lean in and my head rolls back, despite the lack of space, as I let myself go. I pump back and forth and use my hands to hold her where I want her, regardless of any resistance she might give me. My fingers tangle in caramel-and-blond hair like a knotted rope while her mouth sucks me like a sticky summer treat, her tongue stroking me like a salted Popsicle for her pleasure. My other hand keeps her on her knees by the wrapped rosary beads. Begging for forgiveness will never be the same for my sweet Sydney.

I arch back to look at her. Tears stream down her hollowed-out cheeks as her eyes gaze at me with that guileless expression. She’ll be disappointed I don’t help her father after this. Her eyes seek an explanation so I give her the only one I can—pure, blunt honesty in a cruel and twisted world.

“This was never about a trade, my darling Sydney. This is about teaching you a lesson about good girls who risk ruin in the devil’s playground.”

I wonder if she’ll bite, scratch, and hiss when this is over. Her expression blanks out, revealing nothing.

“Do you understand?” I thrust my dick between her stretched lips.

Her head bobs and I curl her loose locks behind the shell of her delicate and oh-so-bitable ears.

“I’m going to come in your mouth, and that gorgeous throat is going to swallow every last drop.”

Her eyes finally narrow and I imagine her asking me or what? so I answer her anyway.

“If you don’t, I’m going to spank you for every bead on this rosary.”

Her eyes clear and she sucks deeper, though with less enthusiasm. She’s gotten the message and my work here is done. My come jets into her mouth and I hold her steady. She takes what I give her and then licks my dick from root to tip when I’m done jerking. It’s hands down the best blow job I’ve ever gotten, but I don’t tell her that. Instead I pull up my pants and shift my wet cock back inside. I help her up and pull her against me.

Her harsh breaths heat my chest, but the ice around my heart doesn’t melt for even a second. I wonder if she’ll cry. She tears so prettily. I don’t know what comes over me, but I kiss her neck and whisper harshly, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” I bite her lobe enough to make it sting, earning a gasp.

Sydney follows with the next line softly against my chest, barely audible next to our heartbeats, and I let her rock into me.

“I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

My hand squeezes her neck and I kiss the skin, licking it, tasting her sweet submission one last time. My voice comes out more gravelly than I mean it to. “If I should die before I wake.”

She shudders. “I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

I push her back to look at me as far as she can go inside the confessional. Today she’s learned a vital life lesson.

“Wrong. Your soul already belongs to me.” Opening the door, I send her on her way with a spank on her ass, shutting the door behind us loud enough that she scrambles on her legs, fearful someone may have heard us. I wait a moment, letting her flee the hallway and adjusting my tie, refusing to look back at her and regret a single moment of what we did inside the confessional.

Neil surprises me, rounding the corner shaking his head and muttering. I’m pretty sure my beloved brother just called me an asshole.

I smirk with a jaunt in my step good enough to skip down the church steps and wave a hand at Father O’Hennessy. My sins are already an ocean deep; I’m not about to let a girl anchor me anywhere.

Chapter Six

Sydney

I scurry from the vestibule, tears blinding me as I smooth them from my cheeks, and run into someone on my way out. The body is definitely male, hard, and the only thing holding me up and together. Flushing with embarrassment, “I’m so sorry.”

I wonder if they know. Can they tell? I wonder if the blush of my cheeks shows my guilt and shame. I doubt anyone ever died from giving a blow job in church. I can’t believe I had my mouth on Declan’s—well, never mind that. That is never happening again. The muscles in my face ache and my lips feel…used. I feel used. Luckily I don’t know anyone here—th

ank goodness—considering this isn’t my regular church.

The male voice brings me back to reality, shocking me.

“Easy, Sydney. You running or sinning?” Declan’s brother clamps his hands on my shoulders, steadying me as I find my footing.

Great. Now I owe Neil for saving me from face-planting on the marble tiles while I’ve got salty dick breath from his brother. His hands squeeze my shoulders gently as if to reassure me. The only thing I feel is a cramping in my stomach, with the contents of Declan’s passion curdling in my belly. One hand clutches my abdomen while the other covers my mouth. I need to find my father before a scarlet letter starts showing up on my clothing.

We’re supposed to meet with a man who can get us a meeting with LeHavre. That’s the whole reason for coming to this church. I don’t see the man anywhere. He was supposed to meet me back near the confessional and tell us where to meet LeHavre. Dad is waiting for me. I didn’t approach LeHavre at first because of what I knew about him—heavy in the mob and barely respected. The money has to be paid back. He scared me more than Declan, but now I have no choices left to me; Declan just made that crystal clear.

“I have to go.” I shake and push him away, seeing my dad already moving outside, clasping hands with two other cops he knows from a neighboring precinct, deep in conversation. I look back and see Neil with Declan, but they don’t look my way.