Watching Declan fight was like a powerful aphrodisiac. It was so animalistic, so raw.
And those shorts.
Holy fucking shit. If I weren’t already pregnant, then the sight of him in those little black, skintight shorts would make me spontaneously ovulate.
I wonder if I can get him to wear those at home. . .
He says something to Marcus before sidestepping him, then ducks between the ropes and hops down from the ring. He jogs over to me, the people around me shouting out congratulations. I smile, about to tell him how proud I am, when he puts his hands on my waist and pulls me in for a kiss so hot it steals my breath.
Whoops sound out around us as he claims my mouth, practically fucking it. I taste the salt of his sweat and the blood from the cut on his lip, but it only makes me kiss him harder. He tastes like pure, unadulterated man.
By the time his lips leave mine, I feel drunk. Dizzy. Warm. Like rich, melted chocolate.
“I need to be inside you,” he murmurs beside my ear.
“Right now?” I ask, breathless and giddy at the thought.
He nods and continues kissing a path down my neck. “I need to fuck you,” he says against my skin. “Hard. Fast. Rough.” His teeth nip my neck to illustrate his point, and damn it if my breath doesn’t hitch in anticipation.
Pulling back, he looks down at me, his green eyes searching mine. “You gonna be okay with that?”
I nod, still dazed and shocked. I’m more than fucking okay with that.
But what changed? I wonder, touching my fingers to my lips. They feel electric, still humming with the energy from that kiss.
Blake clears his throat, reminding us that we’re still in public.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on her.” Declan brings his brother in for one of those one-armed man-hugs, where they really just pat each other on the back.
“No problem,” Blake says.
Without another word, Declan puts his hand on my lower back and starts to guide me around the ring and through the crowd, toward the back offices and locker room.
I wonder if he’s taking me to the janitor’s closet. . .
His words from the night of my fight come to mind, making me excited.
People cheer him on as we navigate the arena, some clapping his back. We pass two security guards at the mouth of the main corridor leading to the back, and then it’s just us.
I look up at him as we walk. Aside from his busted lip, his face looks okay. There’s a bit of red under his eye that might bruise tomorrow, but he looks infinitely better than the last time Kerrigan got ahold of him.
Anger swells in me at the reminder, just like it does every time I think about what that prick did to Declan. But before I can get too upset, I realize we’ve passed the janitor’s closet. Disappointment floods me, putting out the ire that was burning only seconds ago.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I want him to fuck me in a dirty, cramped janitor’s closet so badly?
Before I can come up with a reasonable answer—because there’s not one, other than the fact that I’m a total slut for Declan Whitmore—we stop at the exam room we’d been in before the fight. Being a “headliner” affords him some perks. Like not having to share the locker room with a bunch of other dudes. Declan opens the door and ushers me in, then kicks it shut behind us.
His mouth is on me before it even closes all the way, his hands fisting my dress at the waist. “I wish I was patient enough to shower first, but I’m not. Sorry.”
His kisses along my jaw are so intoxicating, I struggle to remember even simple things—like breathing. “It’s okay. I like you all sweaty.” All my mind can focus on is getting us naked and connected.
Insert Tab A into Slot B.
Hard, fast, and repeatedly.
Declan pulls away, his breathing just as erratic as mine. “I’ve got to wash my hands, though. I’ve still got his blood on me, and I don’t want it anywhere near you.” He gives me a quick peck and says, “Get naked, and make sure your pussy’s nice and wet for me.”
Done and done.
I set my purse on the exam table as I kick off my shoes. My dress joins my purse and then I make quick work of my panties and bra.
After locking the door, Declan washes his hands and dries them, then turns around to face me. His eyes rake over my naked body like a starving man at a buffet.
It’s a heady feeling, and one that I desperately need.
Pregnancy, while beautiful, doesn’t really make you feel beautiful. I’ve felt fat, bloated, sore, sweaty, and nauseous. And I’m only three months in. So this—this silent praise and worshipful gaze—does more for my self-confidence than any words ever could.
Declan stalks toward me while reaching into his shorts to pull out his cup, and tosses it aside. He puts his hands on my stomach, running over the gentle curve beginning to grow. “I love this. I love seeing your belly start to stick out. Knowing that I’m the one who put this baby here. . . I don’t know why, but it’s so fucking hot.”
God, I love this man.
My teeth bite my lip as the corner of my mouth starts to curl. “It is?”
He leans in, murmuring, “Abso-fucking-lutely,” before his lips capture mine in a scorching kiss. He hoists me up onto the edge of the exam table, my legs parting for him automatically. His fingers tangle in my hair as he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. The hard bulge in his shorts presses into my clit, and when he starts to rock against me, it forces a little moan to pass my lips.
God, yes. Friction. More friction.
Breathless, I pull away. “I don’t understand. What changed?”
His eyes waver before flicking away. “I fought for you—for us—from the beginning. But somewhere along the way, I stopped fighting as hard. I got complacent and lost sight of what was important. The day I stop fighting for you is the day I lose you, and I will never let that happen, okay? You are important. This, right here”—he gestures between us—“this is important. My bullshit hang-ups aren’t, and I’m so fucking sorry I let them get in the way.”
Cupping the sides of his face, I kiss him, pouring every ounce of love I have for him into it. Tears spill down my cheeks as Declan pushes down his shorts and slides into me.
His fingers dig into the outside of my thighs as he pulls out and glides back in. Slowly. Precisely. Until he’s buried balls deep and I’m filled to the brim again.
He does this over and over, his pace agonizingly slow and teasing, each thrust easing that too-full, uncomfortable feeling and replacing it with burning need.
I need more. And I need it faster, harder.
Declan rests his head on my shoulder, peering down at where he’s sinking into me. “Shit, Kitten,” he breathes against me. Lifting his head, he nuzzles my neck, pressing a soft kiss to my fluttering pulse point. “Have I told you how much I fucking love your pussy?”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, threading my fingers through his sweaty hair. “She loves you too. So, so much.”
His cock feels fucking perfect inside me. It hits every nerve ending, and each stroke sends a shockwave of pleasure rippling through me, making my walls tighten around him.
I won’t last long.
If he’d only hurry up. . .
Getting impatient, I try to rock my hips against him, greedy for more friction, more pressure.
More, more, more.
Declan stills, buried deep inside me, and chuckles against my throat. “Impatient, are we?”
I nod, my breathing fast, my clit throbbing with the need to come. “What happened to ‘hard, fast, and rough?’ I thought you were gonna fuck me, not tease me.”
Something close to a growl washes across my skin as his fingers tighten on my thighs to an almost painful degree. His cock twitches inside me, but he remains infuriatingly still.
Gripping my hair at the base of my skull, he pulls my head back, pain and pleasure dancing down my spine as he forces me to look up at him. My pussy clenches at the dark glint in his eyes.
This is the Declan I want. The bossy, domineering caveman who fucks hard and takes what he wants.
He pulls out and slams into me, his skin a harsh slap against mine.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
His fingers tighten in my hair, his mouth hovering over mine as he murmurs, “Is this what you want?” His thrusts are still measured, still precise.
I want him to lose control. I want him to own me.
And since I can’t nod, I simply say, “Yes,” then flick my tongue out, teasing his lip with little licks.
How many licks does it take to get to the center of Declan’s resolve?
Three. Three licks and his mouth crashes into mine as he pumps into me, his hips thrusting wildly, roughly.
He pulls back and bites out, “Lie down.”
I lean back, the paper covering the exam table crinkling underneath me as I lie down. Declan pulls my legs up and throws them over his shoulders. He leans forward, resting his hands on the table as he starts to fuck me.
The change in angle is epic.
Sweat dots my body as he fucks me mercilessly. His cock hits my G-spot with every stroke, and the sound of his body slapping against mine only spurs me on. I can hear how wet I am with every thrust, and I moan, feeling myself get closer.
Declan’s eyes squeeze shut. “Goddamn it, I love fucking you.”
I nod frantically, the paper crinkling under my head as he reaches up to play with my nipple. His finger circles the tight bud, grazing it gently, before rolling it between his fingers.
It almost drives me over the edge. I’m panting, damn near gasping for breath as I say, “Yes, Declan, yes. Fuck me. Oh, God, please don’t stop fucking me.”
He groans. “You have no idea how much I love it when you beg for my cock.”
His lips brush my shin, kissing me. “I can’t go back to wearing condoms after the baby comes. Not after this. Not after months of being able to fill you up with my cum every—single—day,” he says, accentuating his words with his thrusts.
I moan, tightening around him, and he grins.
“You like that, huh? Does thinking about me coming inside you get you hot?”
It does. It so fucking does.
My muscles lock into place. I feel like a rocket about to take off as I tell him, “Yes, come in me. I want to feel it dripping out of me.”
I clamp around him, calling out as ecstasy shatters me into a million pieces. Declan curses, low and harsh, his fingers gripping my hips as he slams into me once more. Warmth floods me, igniting aftershocks that leave me spasming. Sated. Boneless.
He manages a few more strokes before he sets my legs down and collapses on top of me, slipping out. His heart is hammering against my stomach, his hair sweaty and wet against my chest.
Declan kisses my torso. “We need one of these tables at home.”