Her back bows, her hands fist in the sheets, and she comes so fucking hard she almost pushes me out. I plant my hand on the small of her back and push against her, letting her milk my cock with her strong muscles, and I’m completely lost to her.
I come hard, shivering, sweating, my mouth pressed to her shoulder. As I breathe through the orgasm and come back to my senses, I wrap my arms around her and lay us on our sides, tangled up in each other.
Mine.
Chapter Seven
~Callie~
Mine.
He said it last night, whispered it actually, as he wrapped himself around me and settled us both in to catch our breath. I’m not sure if he intended to say it out loud.
Not that it matters.
Except, I’m not sure how I feel about it. And frankly, after a night of some of the best sex I’ve had in… ever, I guess it means I’m okay with it.
Because I definitely feel pretty possessive when it comes to him too.
But now it’s the morning after, and historically speaking, we’re not good at this part. Is it going to be awkward? Is he not going to call for a week again, and then act affronted when I’m mad?
Ugh, this part sucks.
He’s not wrapped around me anymore. Thankfully, he’s the same as me in that the snuggles are nice for about three minutes, and then it’s time to roll away and sleep in a position that isn’t as hot as the devil’s house. But the sweet thing is, even in sleep, he keeps tabs on me. His hand on my arm, his foot on my calf. He’s always touching me in some way.
And I like it. It makes me feel safe. I don’t remember the last time someone else made me feel safe. Even my own father loved me, but I didn’t ever dare let my guard down with him.
With Declan, I sleep like a baby. Of course, that could simply be exhaustion.
The man knows his way around the bedroom. And the bathroom and the stairs, if memory serves correctly.
I grin and stretch¸ look over my shoulder at the man himself, then slip from the bed and hunt up my clothes, scattered about the room. The sun is up, but just barely, bathing Declan’s bedroom in that early morning glow.
I pull my bra on, and am just slipping my shirt over my head when I hear, “Where are you going?”
“Home.” I grin at him as push my hands through my hair, shaking it out. “Sorry I woke you.”
“I’m not,” he replies and sits up. His hazel eyes, heavy with sleep, narrow on me as I wince. “What’s wrong?”
I’m sore from you fucking the living hell out of me all night long. Not that I can tell him that. “Just stepped wrong,” I reply, hearing the lameness with my own ears.
“Thanks for—”
“Maybe you should—”
We both speak at the same time, then smile. “You go,” I say.
“Stay,” he simply says and slowly crawls out of bed, gloriously naked, and walks to me. I can’t stop my eyes from roaming up and down his lean, tall body. His tanned skin is smooth over lean muscles, his arms tattooed.
“I can go home,” I murmur, but Declan reaches for me and pulls me against him. His hand slides from my neck to my ass, where he grips onto me firmly.
“I’ve never asked anyone to stay before¸” he whispers, then kisses my forehead. “I’m asking you, Calliope, to spend the day with me.”
“I really should—”
“Let me put it this way,” he interrupts and kisses, then bites my lower lip. A moan escapes my lips, damn him. “I’m telling you to stay.”
“You’re bossy,” I whisper.
He simply grins and waits for me to reply, pulling my shirt over my head.
“Since you’re undressing me again, I guess I’ll stay.”
“Good.” He kisses me hard and deep, and I’m suddenly naked again and being led to the bathroom. “You have a shower, I’ll bring up breakfast.”
“Breakfast in bed?” I ask with a laugh.
“The best way to eat breakfast,” he confirms, kisses my nose and then he’s gone and I’m left standing, naked as the day I was born, in the middle of his old bathroom. I turn a circle, taking in the vintage—another word for old—fixtures and tile. This space was probably last renovated in the fifties. I can picture it in my head, the way it should be, with updated double sinks and countertops, subway tile in the shower.
Let’s face it, I’m itching to get my hands on Declan’s house. And it has nothing to do with the man himself, and everything to do with the magnificence of this space.
Okay, it has a little to do with Declan.
My shower is quick. I don’t have to wash my hair, thank God, because that’s a project. I examine my skin, and grin when I see fingerprint bruises on my thighs, where he held my legs up so he could feast on me for what felt like an hour.
The man has mad oral skills.
Then again, so do I, and he hasn’t given me much of an opportunity to show those off yet. That’s going on today’s agenda.
I smile as I finish drying off, hang the towel, and walk out of the bathroom to find Declan sitting on the bed, a tray before him, and the remote to the television in his hand.
“You look all soft and pink and… happy,” he says, tilting his head to the side as he takes me in.
“I’m all of those things,” I reply and climb on the bed to sit next to him, my back against the headboard. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Cereal,” he says proudly, gesturing to the Fruity Pebbles and a carafe of milk on the tray. “And coffee.”