Declan's Demand

Crawling back on the bed, my perfectly wilted flower shudders. Not so brave and not so strong now without the armor of a pretty red corset, dressed up in wicked lace like rose thorns to manipulate my base desires.

“I owe you.” It’s not a question, and her voice trembles but the way her eyes rake over me I know she’s partly aroused by the idea. What woman isn’t secretly primed, at least biologically on some level, to crave a certain degree of submission? Sydney has the makings of a lovely sub. I suddenly find myself with the inclination to train her despite all my previous efforts to push her away.

I roll over top of her, pinning her to the bed. Our noses touch in the briefest of grazes and I lean into the bed, forcing her to burrow deeper into soft layers of pillow-top mattress. It’s the same sort that will comfort not only her backside but her bruised ego when I’m done with her.

And oh, how the mighty will fall.

“A debt, pretty girl.”

Her throat constricts in a swallow. “A debt, you say.”

I could go back and forth with her about this all day, all damn night if I need to.

“Yes. Since a rival gifted me a carpet-wrapped present, I now own you and your…familial obligations.”

“Y-you mean like my father’s gambling debts.” Her body shifts underneath mine with nervous energy, but not enough to buck me off of her unless I wish to move, which I don’t—at least not until my point is thoroughly made.

“Smart, too.” I watch her eyes flutter shut. She thinks I don’t know about the extensive debt—and by extensive, I know it’s in the ballpark of half a million dollars. I also know that Detective Errol Meadows seems to know a lot about missing evidence lockers and underground gambling activities from my father’s exploits. It’s a sticky situation and a fine line I have to navigate with my own interests on the line.

“How do I pay that back?”

I move her arms above her head, ready to nestle my lips against her neck in a furious kiss worthy of marking her skin.

“By…having dinner with me, for starters.”

Her expression changes to one of relief. She thought I might force her, and that rankles, but doesn’t surprise me either. Regardless of my heavy-handed tactics and bedroom preferences, I’m not about force. Coercion…reward-based encouragement? Well, I don’t put that in quite the same category. I’m not a saint.

“Dinner.” She looks as surprised as I feel.

Since when did suck my dick come out sounding like have dinner with me? Ah well, I guess I wasn’t going in for full asshole yet. There was still plenty of time to disabuse her notions of me having the slightest bit of gallantry for her feelings or problems. It is, after all, barely nine in the morning and we have a long day ahead of us.

I move off her quickly and adjust my suit and pants. “I have a meeting with my brother, but I’ll be back later to take you to dinner.”

She shuffles, sitting up in bed, the white T-shirt doing nothing to hide the color of her dark areolas pressing against the cotton.

“What am I going to do?”

“Do?” I ask, fixing my collar and cuffs in the mirror over the dresser and watching her in the reflection.

“Until then?” Her top teeth nip her bottom lip and she looks unsure.

Sauntering back to the bed, I lean on my arms over her. I breathe in her scent. It’s missing the floral tones I expect from her. In fact, I still smell LeHavre’s thick cologne mixed with mine from the bedsheets and it rolls my stomach.

“Take a bath.”

She’s mine. She’ll damn well smell like it.

Her chin drops. “A bath?”

“Mmm, yup.” I don’t explain further and she doesn’t press it, thankfully. I don’t want to have to explain how her natural scent is missing and I’m a broody fucker this morning after finding her rolled up on my doorstep last night.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace to be seen. I want to make sure LeHavre knows I have you.” I lean in to tweak her nose. “All of you.” Sue me, I’m proprietary too.

“Oh.” She puffs a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think you fully understand.”