Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,72

my body fully against his, letting a lightshow of mind-blowing sensations bombard a million sensitive nerves.

“Yes,” I cried again and again, each time I rammed downwards. My hands gripped the leather seat behind him so hard, there was a good chance my fingernails were permanently branding the upholstery.

“I’m about to come,” he warned, his eyes closed as if the mere sight of me bouncing on top of him had the potential to finish him.

I was helpless to my own body as it went wild against him, trying to suck out every bit of pleasure he could offer me. My voice was a plea, “Not yet.”

“Bloody fuck, you’re going to kill me,” it was nothing more than a moan. His body had ceased movement altogether, trying to hold off the inevitable.

But I was far past the point of needing his participation. My hips rolled with frenzied strokes, striving for the perfect bliss that built in my belly like a coming freight train.

“Adley,” he gasped, eyes popping open wide as his fingers dug into my hips using force to try and hold me in place.

But I couldn’t stop. It felt so, so good, and I was close enough to taste it. Just a little more…

I knew I’d lost him the moment he released his hold, letting my body buck freely as his shuddered and groaned. Finally satiated, he held me still against him, his face nuzzled in the little bit of cleavage my tank top allowed.

“I blame you,” he accused, his lips rubbing against the sensitive skin of my breasts as he spoke. “That should be illegal. You should be illegal.”

I pouted. I was still burning up inside, while he got to be all relaxed and happy.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, little sheila, I’ll make it up to you.”

And then he lay me backwards on the unused bench seat, stretching my body until only my legs hung off facing him. He lowered his head between my legs, and did just as he promised.

“No, that should be illegal,” I corrected afterwards, gulping down the musky air circulating around us. The stars in my vision began to clear.

He nudged me back to our seat, and when I resisted his pull to cuddle up beside him, he rolled his eyes and reversed our positions so his head rested in my lap. I had every intention of shoving him off, but when my fingers made contact with his unruly hair, I couldn’t help but to admire the smooth texture. His dark eyelashes settled on his cheeks with a content sigh.

Free to stare at him all I wanted, my eyes carefully traced his face.

It was funny. As handsome as he was, the perfection wasn’t what really attracted me to him at all. My favorite feature had become the one blemish – the single imperfection – that marred his skin. In my eyes, that small birthmark was who he really was. He wore his faults and shortcomings where everyone could see, not as something to proud of, but as something we had no choice but to accept as the imperfect creature he was – that we all are.

“Declan?” I whispered. Anything louder would’ve felt inappropriate.

Gray eyes peeked up at me.

“Why do you always pester me about my past? Do you just like to rile me? Are my buttons really that fun to press?”

He cocked an eyebrow at the suggestive double entendre of ‘pressing my buttons’. Thankfully, it was a little too obvious to earn a remark, even from Declan.

“Riling you up is just a perk. It’s mind-blowingly sexy.”

“You’re twisted,” I interjected.

He reached up to twirl a golden lock of my hair around his finger, focusing on it instead of me as he spoke, “I’ve never been one for mysteries. Riddles do nothing for me. I’m not one of those blokes with an inherent need to figure things out…But you’ve been an enigma ever since the moment you opened that marvelously foul little mouth of yours. You fight your past like you’re slaying a dragon, and at first, I thought I needed to understand you. But your truths always turned out to be even more perplexing than the idea of you I started with –,”

I stopped him, feeling a mixture of disgust and outrage.

“I’m not some task for you to accomplish, Declan. There aren’t a certain number of clues, and then you win the game. I’m not a character. I’m a person.”

He was nonplussed.

“Exactly, you’re a person, and you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met. I thought, at first, that