Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

M iranda

Aoife tells me that Declan has reservations for us at eight, so I should be ready by seven-thirty. My only answer is hmm, which she takes for acceptance. What I don't do is tell her to tell him to fuck off—I wouldn't do that to her. She's just the messenger.

There's no way in hell I'm going out in public with him. To sit there with an empty smile and heavy heart. Fuck him. The bastard reads me too well.

After Aoife left at five, I ran into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. Then, I locked myself in my room with the chair that usually sits in the corner in front of the door going into the shared bathroom. The chest of drawers, usually in the walk-in closet, is in front of the door to the hall.

Even though a part of me is looking forward to fighting with Declan over me going out to dinner—wondering if he would really care—I fell asleep .

A small, dim sound pulls me out of my dream. I open my eyes to find Declan in the chair. It's back in its place in the corner, and the chest is gone from in front of the door.

"How the hell did you get in here?" I demand.

That evil eyebrow is up, and those dimples flash at me. "You have ten seconds to decide. Get up and get dressed." Blue runs over the tight leggings I'm wearing. "Or we stay right here, and I will show you all those orgasms all night long and into tomorrow."

I sit up, take a deep breath, and shake my head. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm here for the audit, and that's all. Why can't you?—"

He stands, looming over me. His hand cups my face, his thumb playing over my lips makes my toes curl, andeverything in me hums in need.

A thrill shoots through me at the way his eyes glow to the deepest sapphire, and his jaw tightens. Opening my mouth, I taste his thumb before sucking it deep into my mouth. The same way I did when he touched me in my bedroom, I imagine it's his cock.

Blue disappears as his eyes squeeze closed. "You're a witch casting a spell on me."

I feel the words rumbling out of his chest all the way to his finger in my mouth. I suck deeper on his thumb. I wouldn't do it for Michael, but I want to do it for Declan. I want to know the taste of every inch of his skin—including his cock.

I'm swallowed in an ocean storm, the waves threatening to pull me under. Using his other hand, he catches the top of my leggings, and yanks them down to my knees. Closing my eyes, I allow my legs to open .

He groans. "Your cunny is so wet your panties cling to you, turning those white panties clear for me."

His hand is rough as he tugs off my panties. I help him, desperate for him there. Before I understand what he's doing, he's down on the bed, his mouth between my spread legs.

Oh god. There are no preliminaries. Two fingers open my lower lips for his mouth. His tongue is there, sliding deep from the bottom to the top of me—ending with a swirl of his tongue over my hard, hot clitoris.

"Jesus, you taste better than I dreamed." Declan groans into me. "Sweeter than candy, juicy like a watermelon. You're going to flood my face, love, and I'll gladly drown in you."

Embarrassment stings as the sound of him licking me echoes around us in the room. Only for it to die as his moans of pleasure become louder.

His tongue is driving me out of my mind. At times, tasting, others teasing. Hot, so hot and wet. Again and again, he traces every inch of me, at times stopping to suck deep on my tender flesh before soothing it with his velvet tongue.

Please, please . I'm begging, but I don't know for what.

When he sucks deep on my inner lips at the same time he fucks me deep with his tongue, I lose control. "Declan, please. Oh, my fucking god."

The bastard chuckles. "That I am. I'm your god now, my love. Pray to me, and I'll grant every desire you have."

Stop, I can't take it anymore. Okay, don't stop. More, just a little more. It's close, so close I can feel it. Deeper, his tongue dives. Too soon, he stops. I want to scream .

"You are so fucking gorgeous. I love watching you come undone for me. Did he do this for you? Taste your sweet cunny?" He growls.

"No, never. Please don't stop. Please, Declan."

"Say it again, darlin'. Say my name. Tell me who is taking you to the moon and stars where you belong." Is a demand.

I can deny him nothing. I'm so close. "Declan. Oh, Declan." It becomes a chant.

My reward is him teasing my clitoris, not hard enough, harder. Suck it, please, please suck.

No! He stops and sucks my outer lips deep into his hot mouth as his cruel tongue slides up and down.

I'm begging him. Desperate for the orgasm that was so close.

"Ah, love, I'm going to let you come, but not until you're begging me like your life depended on it. Remember all the different orgasms I was going to show you? This is only the first one."

He's fucking me now with his tongue, tearing away thin strips of my skin until my entire body is one pulsing nerve throbbing with the need to explode.

At last, that wicked tongue sweeps over my clit sending me off the bed to meet him. Catching me by the hips in a punishing grip, he sucks deep on my clit. I fall from the stars down, down, hitting the waves with a bone-shattering crash.

I'm pulled under the way I feared. Only to be yanked back above the waves. The waves are no longer hard. They're soft, sweet, and warm as they move beneath my cheek. Wait, what ?

I open my eyes to find I'm on Declan's chest. His hand is running through my hair with long, slow strokes, almost like he's petting me. Like the cat he sent away to protect me.

One heavy arm is around my middle, not tight but not loose, either. I'm shy, unable to look him in the eye. This isn't how I thought this would go. He's still dressed.

"Stop, love. No more thinking." The words rumble out of him.

Rolling my eyes, I push up to look down at him. "How can you say not to think? That's absurd."

"No, it's not. It'svery easy. You go by feel. By touch. The same way we got here."

"I'm not built the way you are. All I did was watch people operate by feeling, and it blew up in their faces. My parents, Peter."

That damn eyebrow is up again. "Your parents might not have ended the way they wanted to. Yes, they left you behind, but they lived a life they loved while they were here. When you married your ex-husband, you were all in your head. And how well did that turn out?"

It feels like a slap. I try to roll off him. His arm tightens around me. "All I'msaying is in this: trust in the fact I will never hurt you. We take it day by day. As it comes and when you want to leave, I'll let you go."

He meant it as an assurance. All it feels like is an insult—he would let me go. I would be one more woman in the long line of ones he's had before moving on to the next.

His phone rings. Thank god. He lets me go, and the instant he does, I'm off him.

"What, Ryan? I said no calls tonight. "

I slam the door to the bathroom closed. I don't bother locking it. Why waste the time?

I'm looking at a person I don't recognize. She's almost pretty. Her eyes are soft green. There's no tension in her jaw or shoulders. She's standing straight with her long hair flowing around her like some sort of exclusive shampoo and conditioner ad.

Squeezing my eyes shut until I see stars. I sigh and open them again. She's still there.

Just go by feeling. He's never felt this way before. The words spin in my head, and she's back. The only thing missing is a tight bun without a single hair out of place.

No. I don't want her back. All the fears of men, of not having enough, of failing…of life.

All I have to do is trust in Declan. Declan Kelly is a man outside the law who beats and kills people. A man who kidnapped me without blinking an eye. He refused to let me go. But he will. He can't keep me. I don't fit in his world.

I don't understand why it causes an ache so fierce in my chest I can't breathe deeply through it.

My head goes down against the door, and I realize I don't hear him on the other side of the door. Quietly, I open the door. He's not in the room. I run in, grab my leggings, and hurry to get into them.

Why did he stop? He could have taken me. I wanted him to. I was ready. Yet all he did was give me a mind-blowing orgasm, then hold me? Did I do something? Was it gross? Michael never went down on me. He said it was disgusting—while at the same time complaining because I refused to give him a blow job .

Was it some weird game he was playing? When I finally gave in on one thing, it was enough and he was done with me? I don't understand anything, and my head is beginning to hurt. Fuck this. This has to stop. All of it. He said he would let me go. Fine. I'm finishing the audit and getting the hell out of here.

I decide I'm going to put my words into action and go into the office to finish working on the ledger. I could finish the first one tonight.

Downstairs, Colm is waiting by the front door. "Ma'am, Declan is busy in his office. He'll be out in a few minutes."

The door to Declan's office opens, and suddenly, Declan is inches away. I back away fast.

"You said you'd let me go. I want to go."

A stormy ocean runs over me making me so wet I hate him and myself. "Once you're done with the audit. For now, you need to go upstairs and get dressed for dinner. Or we stay here, and I fuck you until you can't move."

Declan

Her beautiful green eyes flick sparks at me as they widen. She looks from me to Colm, who looks like he wishes he hadn't heard it either. The brat has five seconds before I make the decision for her. Stomping her foot in temper. "I hate you. I want you to know that."

"I can still taste how much you hate me on my tongue. You wish. Your decision, Miranda. Or I assume you want me?— "

She nearly runs up the stairs. Brat. That sweet round ass of hers is due for a spanking. The door to her room slams, yanking me out of the fantasy of her over my knee. Damn.

I'm up the stairs at a much slower pace, my cock pissed at once again not having what its howling for. She has to be listening at her door because the moment my foot hits the landing, she calls out. "Where are we going? How nice should I dress?"

"The green and blue maxi dress." I dare to tell her what I've been looking forward to seeing her in.

"Fine." She mumbles before slamming her door closed.

After a quick change myself, I'm back downstairs on the phone with Liam, going over what Tommy is up to when Miranda appears. Fucking hell. I really wish she fought me a little more.

I end the call without any idea of what I said. Her eyes run over me. The brat's eyes are fixed on my chest as her tongue slides out to wet her lips.

"Why did you change too? Is this nice enough?" She's worried.

"You're gorgeous. Even in those awful clothes you wore. Now, you're downright stunning." I love the blush that sweeps across her cheeks. "I changed my shirt because I'm a messy eater. The scent of your juice on me was beginning to make me turn black from?—"

Her eyes go big. "Shut up, you're disgusting."

She's too damn close, her eyes too big, and shooting green sparks at me. Catching her around the back of her neck, I bring her up against my aching cock. "There is nothing disgusting about what I want to do to you. It's dirty, sweaty, and some things are downright filthy but disgusting, no m'fhiorghra . "

Jesus, she's panting for it. Those sweet lips parted to accept my kiss allow our breath to meet and mingle. I breathe her in deep. I'm a bastard. I love seeing how desperate she is while she fights me. Wanting to punish her for the pain she's putting us both through, I let her go without giving her what she wants.

"We're going to be late." I don't miss the way she rocks on her feet or the hurt in her eyes when I let her go.

Turning away from her isn't easy. But suffering alone isn't either. This damn week has felt like a month. After talking with Aoife about my plans, as I needed her help feeding Miranda the pills and a prenatal vitamin, I decided to take her advice. Give Miranda the room she thought she wanted. Once a person feels the sun on their face after not feeling it for years, they miss it something awful when it's gone.

Aoife hadn't liked the idea of the pills—at first. She demanded I tell her why Miranda hadn't yet come around. She couldn't understand why I hadn't been able to talk Miranda into my bed yet and wondered if maybe it wasn't right for Miranda after all. Until I explained Miranda's hesitation.

Thank god, she'd rolled her eyes. She wanted to go talk to Miranda about the fear. When I told her that wouldn't be enough, Miranda had to live with me day in and out to see she had nothing to fear. Finally, she agreed.

I thought I could go through leaving Miranda alone this whole week, but I didn't have the strength to do so. Instead, I sat across from her and talked to her about everything I would need to know later—squirreling the information away for later. It was better than nothing but not nearly enough.

In the car, she refuses to look my way. Although she makes a face when I turn on the music and leave on the Amy Winehouse mix playing.

"Not a fan?" I'm curious.

She shrugs. "I don't dislike her music. I just think it's sad and a waste. Her talent was enormous. Because of a piece of shit man, she got hooked on drugs—basically killing herself for someone who didn't give a genuine fuck about her."

"I don't disagree."

"What? No, while she was alive, she loved her life. Like my mother." She narrows her eyes at me.

I sigh. "Your mother died from breast cancer, right?"

"Yes, breast cancer she didn't discover until it was too late. She admitted she found the lump months before. But she didn't make a doctor's appointment because they didn't have the money. It was only a year after my dad opened his own garage.They were finding their footing on things being more expensive than planned, and for a while, there wasn't enough money. By the time the cancer was diagnosed, all the money the shop was finally making went to pay bills because now they made too much to qualify for charity programs." Her words are bitter.

I can't say I blame her either. A man should be able to provide everything his woman needs, whether it's a home to make hers, clothes to wear, or access to healthcare to keep her healthy. One by one, all the men in Miranda's life let her down. She's understandably fearful I'm one more man who will do the same.

A pang of guilt hits me as I remember Brenna and the phone call I need to return to her father. I barely recognize the feeling. Guilt isn't something I allow myself .

Sliding the car in front of the valet, Miranda's eyes go wide. "Here? I love this place. But I haven't been in years."

"Let me guess, since your divorce?"

The smile falls as she shrugs. "It feels like a waste of money. I can cook at home."

One more thing to consider. She thinks she isn't worth it. Was it the ex, her childhood, or a mix of the two?

The valet is at her door before me, smiling down at her. I give him the keys with a glare.