Come Out Swinging (Reach for the Moon Book 2), Sam Hall [leveled readers .TXT] 📗

needed the crush of his when they collided with mine. I tilted my body back like a flower following the sun, and his hands cupped my breasts, one sliding up to collar my neck possessively as his tongue burned its way into my mouth. But not for long. He pushed me up against the mirror, hands on my hips as he ground his body against mine. I was caught between the cool of the glass and the heat of him before he pulled back, drawing my hips with him.

I was bent over now, turned around with my hands still on the smooth surface, able to catch the O of my mouth form in infinitum.

“Hold still. Don’t move. It’ll hurt more if you move.”

“Hurt?” My body twisted, my hands moving from the mirror as I tried to look at what Dec was doing, but he planted my hands back where they were, moving me into position with a hiss of frustration.

“Hurt,” he said definitely, hand on the back of my neck, the other plucking at the ties to my bikini. The top fell to the floor first, my breasts bouncing free, something a million Declans watched with a dark smile, then the bottoms were loosened. I didn’t feel the cool air on my skin for long, the fabric soon replaced by the broad width of his palm.

“Love always hurts. I hurt when we split. I hurt when you picked Mase. I hurt when you left without a word. I hurt with longing for you, snooping in on any cursory mention of you, and I hurt when I tried to stuff that down, pretend that wasn’t how it felt. This, what I’m gonna do to you, it’s just an externalisation of that.”

“You want to punish me for that?!”

I tried to jerk free, but this version of Declan was impossibly strong. He held me pinned, those hands biting hard into my flesh when I thrashed around before one came slamming down upon me.

Crack! I felt the vibrations all the way through my body first, but hot on their heels came an almighty throb. Of pain, of heat, of a sharp stab of pleasure deep inside me, my clit twitching wildly at the referred pleasure-pain.

“The point isn’t pain or punishment.”

The voice was calm, even, the fingers broad and probing, pushing between my thighs when I tried to clamp them shut, sliding in all too easily through my slick, and spearing into me. This was getting me off in its most basic, brutal way, my legs spreading of their own accord as he slammed them into me. But right as I was at my most vulnerable, panting, when he had me right where he wanted, he looked over my shoulder into my lust hazed eyes before easing his fingers out of me, only to slap his hand down.

This was getting confusing. Was I yelping in pain, or crying out in ecstasy? Was it Father Wolf that stood over me, merciless as the abyss, or was it my warm eyed Declan? Was he working me up to a goddamn incredible orgasm, or was he hurting me, punishing me for shit I had no business atoning for? I couldn’t tell you the answer to any of this, so firmly anchored to this tiny little space I was. I could only see Declan, echoed for kilometres within the shining glass surfaces. A terrible landscape of him, of me, of everything he wanted to do to me.

“Love hurts,” he said in a low growl, lifting my head up, his fingers still buried in my cunt, his other hand around my throat. He forced me to look at a naked, dripping, smeary eyed me. “I hurt. I’ll always hurt for you. You were a bomb I swallowed willingly, not realising what I was taking into myself, and then you went off. You left a Paige sized hole inside me, always aching for you.” He nuzzled into my neck, my mouth panting ‘yes’ when he took the skin between his teeth, but after giving it a tug, he let it go, leaving a gentle kiss instead. “I need to know that my pain matches yours.”

This wasn’t where I was supposed to be, was not how this was supposed to go. We were going to have a light-hearted day at the beach, we had been, and then we stumbled on…what? Declan cum Father Wolf, he didn’t let up his punishing pace, pushing his fingers in and out, over and over, not letting me calm or collect myself, and I knew why.

When I clawed at the glass, so close yet needing something else, something brutal, I knew what this was, what was happening.

We make so many dumb mistakes as teenagers that part of being in your twenties is laying a thick veneer over all of that, trying to smooth it into what we think adulthood is. I wasn’t gawky or insecure any more. I made sensible choices in my work, money, and partners. I was aiming for stability. I was reliable, safe.

But what lay beneath?

Declan, for whatever reason, was that first blueprint of a relationship. One where a boy cared for me, looked after me, discovered things with me, and then… My cunt clenched down as I felt it, something I never wanted to feel again. I grit my teeth against it, a pain I’d never felt the like of since. What happened with Mason was agony, but even then, I’d developed some boundaries, some defences. Not with Declan. My claws made horrible sounds as they scratched at the glass, as I lifted my head and met those whiskey-coloured eyes.

We’d walked away from each other because we couldn’t love each other anymore, only hurt. He’d been getting fractious as people kept talking to him about wanting to be the next alpha, while I’d been squirming at the thought of locking myself down to the one man I’d had any sort of a relationship with, and part of my heart already lay with Mason.