Page 60 of Downfall

“Yeah.”

He turns around, rubbing the flat of his palm over his forehead. “You’re on a nickname basis with the guy?” he asks, but it’s less of a question and more of a growl.

He crosses over to the yellow sink, bracing his hands on either side. It has a crack running all the way down to the drain, where there’s a build-up of something white and sticky that I hope to God is toothpaste. “Jesus, Skylar, you’re gonna kill me.”

“No, Declan. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to refuse to fuck me because of some misplaced sense of guilt and then act all jealous when I’m within ten feet of another man.”

He whips his head around, and I’m all too aware of him now. I take in the slight dark stubble across his jaw, the thorny stems peeking out from his white T-shirt, and the glisten of his lip ring under the fluorescent lighting. It’s at this moment that I notice he has no bruises. No cuts or scrapes. No split lip or blood across his brow. I don’t know where he was, but he wasn’t letting someone hurt him. My chest fills with pride, not that he listened to me, but at the possibility that he found a better way to cope. The win is short-lived, though, and I’m right back to fuming at his next words.

“Who gave you the locket, Skylar? You never fucking take it off, so it must be someone important.”

He leans back against the sink as he rubs a hand through his hair, which already looks like it’s been thoroughly finger-raked.

“You don’t get to care,” I say. “Not unless you’re going to do something about it.”

It’s silent for a beat, then he slowly pushes up from the sink, an entire battle brewing behind his dark, conflicted eyes. He walks over to me until we’re so close, I have to physically force air back into my lungs. When I look up, I see it. The snap. The decision.

“Get on your knees.”

“What?” I whisper.

“You want to know what it feels like to be owned by me? What all those girls in high school experienced?” He bends down, gripping my chin and turning my head until my eyes meet his. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.”

I know I shouldn’t. There’s absolutely nothing healthy about this. He’s not doing it because he wants to, but because he’s jealous. I’ve backed him into a corner and now he’s returning the favor. My brain knows all this, but my body doesn’t. Maintaining eye contact, I slowly lower myself down until my knees hit the ground, the cold tile biting my flesh through the thin material of my leggings and making me wince. Declan notices, because of course he does, and takes his leather jacket off, laying it on the dirty floor. He pushes at my shoulder to get me to move onto the jacket, but I shake my head.

“I don’t want special treatment,” I protest.

“Too bad. Kneel on the fucking jacket or this stops.”

I sigh, but do as I’m told, immediately feeling relief from the padding.

Declan crouches down for a moment so he’s eye-level with me. “Good girl.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, bringing his thumb up to my neck and massaging my pulse point. “You’re going to look so fucking pretty with my cock shoved down your throat while you’re gasping for air, Firefly. But if you need to stop, you tap my leg. Is that clear? If you don’t like anything, if you’re uncomfortable, even if there’s no reason at all, you let me know. You want to stop? We stop. No questions asked. Tell me you understand.”

I nod, and he clicks his tongue.

Right, words. “I understand.”

He rises to his full height, leaving me below him at his complete mercy. Nothing has ever given me such a rush, not even riding on the back of his motorcycle for the first time.

“Take me out,” he orders.

My hands shoot out, but I’m a bumbling, shaking mess as I try to unbuckle his belt, so he takes pity on me and does it himself, dropping his jeans to the ground. I can see the outline of his cock, thickening against his boxer briefs, so I try again, but he bats my hand away.

“Uh-uh. You had your chance. You want my fat cock in your mouth?”

“Yes,” I breathe out.

“Then earn it. Show me how bad you want it. Fucking beg me for it, Skylar.”

“Please, Declan. I can handle it.”

He laughs and it’s almost manic. “I don’t give a shit whether or not you can handle it, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Because he’s treating me like he would any other girl he’s using for sex. I’m not his Firefly anymore because he wouldn’t say those cruel words to me. He’s said crueler, but that was when he was trying to protect me, or so he says.

Before I get lost in my own thoughts, he shoves his boxer briefs halfway down his ass, freeing his cock, and damn, it’s way bigger than I remembered. Thick and veiny, already glistening with precum at the tip. I’m not even sure how he fit inside me all those years ago, especially since I was a virgin.

I feel something brush against my cheek and realize he’s rubbing his dick alongside it. He gently pulls it away before slapping the head against my skin.