Page 27 of Pin My Alpha
This is my show. I’m running it. I try to find a rhythm again, slow and deliberate, my hand twisting at the base of his cock while my mouth works the rest. The wet, filthy sounds are loud in the quiet bar. My knees ache. His thumb strokes my temple once more, and something inside me gives way.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “Just like that. Fuck, look at you taking all of me.”
The rhythm dissolves.
My mouth slips, and I have to catch myself with a hand on his thigh, panting. Spit shines on the head of his cock, dripping onto my fist.
Declan just watches me, his breathing ragged.
He doesn’t laugh. He just crouches in front of me, his body blocking the dim light from the bar. His jeans are still pushed down, cock aimed right at my face. He cups my jaw.
“You okay?”
His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and I have to fight the urge to lean into the touch. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.” I shove at his chest, but it’s like pushing against a wall. “Stop turning this into a thing. I’m trying to get you off.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Right. My mistake.”
He looks at me for another long second, his thumb tracing the seam of my lips. Then he pulls a stool over and sits, his legs falling open, giving me room. The choice is mine again.
It’s the most infuriatingly considerate thing he could do.
I grab his cock and take him back in my mouth before I can second-guess it.
This time, there’s no strategy. I just want him. I take him deeper, greedier, letting him fill my throat until my eyes water. His hand finds my hair again, fingers threading through my curls, and I press into his palm. The thought that this feels safe is a betrayal I don’t have time to process.
The bar fills with our scents, warm and tangled, and I know I’m going to regret it.
“Fuck, Shay,” Declan breathes, his voice tight.
I hum around him, and his hips give a sharp, involuntary jerk.
“Don’t do that.”
I pull off just enough to talk. “Thought I was in charge.”
“You are.”
“Then don’t give me orders.”
His hand tightens, just a fraction. Not a threat, just a reminder. My own cock jumps hard in my jeans.
“You’re on your knees,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You sure you want to argue about this right now?”
My whole body lights up. I should say something sharp, something that cuts him down.
Instead, I just open my mouth for him.
Declan’s eyes go dark. “That’s my good boy.”
And there it is. The crack that runs right through me.
A low, helpless moan escapes me, vibrating against his skin. He swears, a rough sound torn from his throat. One hand braces on the bar top, the other fists in my hair, holding me steady as I work him faster.
My thighs press together, a useless defense. Slick soaks through my jeans, hot and humiliating. I shift on my knees, trying to get some friction, any friction at all.
