Curve Struck (A Celebrity Stepbrother Romance) (24 page)

Her breathing became erratic and she started to squirm.

"Seems like we're at a bit of an impasse," Declan teased. "You want to come now, but you also want to suck my cock."

Her head nodded vigorously as her body jerked with need.

"And I want devour that sweet pussy."

She moaned at the dirty promise his voice held.

"Look at my cock, Mel."

She did. He was rock hard, swollen to capacity, a fresh pearl of pre-cum glowing like a gold bead in the candlelight.

"That's what seeing you does to me, baby. Seeing, tasting, hearing those choked little cries that tell me you're at the height of your climax. Everything about you makes my dick hard, Mel."

Her cheeks flushed with an embarrassed pleasure.

"Okay," she relented shyly, lifting up from his touch and getting into position atop him.

Declan curled his hands around the back of her full thighs, urging her lower. Propping her weight on her forearms, she brought her pussy down to his mouth then stretched her spine so that his cock bobbed against the underside of her chin. Tilting her head out of the way, Declan rewarded her by tensing his abdominals, the motion raising his cock from where it laid flat against his tight stomach.

Her mouth swooped left and sealed around the fat crown. Declan groaned against her pussy, the vibrations making her quiver in turn. Her mouth slid lower down his erection as his tongue and bottom lip teased the spine of her clit. Releasing one of her thighs, Declan worked his arm between her head and his leg. She lifted, switching her weight to one arm so that she could curl her fingers around his heavy balls.

When she cupped him, he groaned again and slid the tips of three thick fingers into her pussy. Melanie started to vibrate. Lips and pussy sucked him deeper in, the head of his cock pushing at the back of her mouth as her hips turned wild, her pussy squeezing at the invasion as her clit danced against his forceful tongue.

Tensing her thighs, she tried to push against her climax, desperate to delay it. She wanted to outlast him, wanted him filling her mouth as he came.

Declan chuckled.

"Not happening, love."

He maneuvered until he had both hands resting against her mound, his thumbs and index fingers pinching her labia open so that his tongue could freely lick up and down her clit. Her hips jerked and her eyes slammed shut, her throaty moan vibrating along half his shaft as the back of her mouth squeezed at the broad crown.

Everything Melanie did was involuntary, uncontrolled. Her moans, her sucking and licking, the jerking of her legs and arms. Beneath Melanie, Declan was practiced precision, only his moans under her control. He suckled the pearl of her clit, his tongue flicking inside his mouth. He followed with gently scraping his bottom teeth the length of that swollen spine, turning it incredibly sensitive before he took his next lick.

Melanie shook. Her arms shook, her legs shook, her breasts and stomach and back shook. Her pussy gulped at air, hungry for the big cock her mouth feasted on. Shaking, groaning, she fought not to climax. Tears leaked from her to lubricate the base of Declan's shaft and turn the salty flesh saltier.

Her mouth opened wider. She took shallow breaths through her nose, her throat expanded in one unceasing moan that began to swallow the full length of Declan's cock.

He gasped. The hot air leaving his mouth felt like a dragon breathing against her hypersensitive skin. Then his tongue laved her clit from top to bottom.

Please, she wanted to moan. Let me hold on.

She couldn't. His lips gnawed at her clit, sucked and throttled it. Her joints locked, her muscles trembled and then she bucked, her throat convulsing around the fat head topping Declan's shaft.

He gasped again, his hands abandoning her pussy to lock behind her back and his face pressed hard against her pussy. She waited for the jerk of his shaft, waited for him to spill the contents of his swollen balls down her throat, but he kept control even as she dissolved around him, disintegrating in hard jerks as he rolled them onto their sides.

Slowly he pulled out of her mouth and slid down onto the floor so that his head was even with hers. He kissed her, one long arm extended down her body so he could continue teasing the enflamed flesh between her thighs.

His tongue, coated with her taste, slid past Melanie's lips. She bucked again, her head jerking back so she wouldn't bite him.

"I'm going to claim that sweet pussy now," he warned before pressing his lips against her forehead, his hard words at odds with the softly delivered kiss.

She watched, eyes glazed with pleasure, as he got back on the bed. She tried to move, her bones rubbery and uncooperative. Declan didn't care. With Melanie on her side, he lifted her top leg and stretched it along the length of his torso, her heel hooking against the angular cut of his shoulder. With his weight centered on his widely spread knees, he continued to hold her leg up as he speared his cock into her slick hole.

Tight, swollen, still pulsing with her last climax, Melanie's body mouthed Declan deeper.

They moaned in unison and then he began to thrust.

Hard, pounding, he took her relentlessly. Flesh slapped against flesh. His free hand thumbed her clit until Melanie's eyes began to roll back in her head. Then his open palm came down hard on the engorged tissue.

She gasped, a million neurons exploding in pleasure inside her head.

Declan smacked her a second, sharper, time, his thrusting cock hitting harder and deeper inside her pussy. Neck arching in pleasure, she brought one hand up to her mouth, her fingers filling the wet cavern to keep from screaming out her pleasure.

Spreading her juices with his thumb, Declan returned to caressing her clit with soft strokes as her pussy choked and strangled on his cock.

"Again," she moaned around her fingers.

"You're not ready," he taunted, his touch against the swollen spine so light it almost seemed imagined.

The stroke of his cock inside her slowed, turned shallow, just the head that was threatening to tug its way out. Melanie started to squirm along the mattress, her hips showing her desperation for more of him.

SMACK

She jerked, cried out, her throat twisting around the memory of being filled by him.

Hard and swift, his cock slammed into her again, grinding, grinding, grinding.

Her mouth and throat stayed open, convulsing with the same squeezing contractions of her pussy.

SMACK

With a fast backstroke, Declan popped free then he slammed back in, filled her until he was hitting against the opening to her cervix, where he began to grind again. Round and round, breaking her down, fingers pinching her clit to the point she could no longer breathe.

She strained around him, against him, her body yearning for its own destruction and then it was upon her. She froze, only her feet moving, jerking left and right from the ankles down like those of a condemned woman at the end of a hangman's rope.

Declan splintered with her, his body seizing as his cock jerked inside her, spilling all of him into her before he collapsed on the bed.

Curling next to Melanie, he tugged the covers over them and draped his arm across her shoulder.

He caressed his nose against hers then pressed a short, soft kiss to her lips.

"Wow," she marveled, too much of her mind lost from the experience to put it into better words.

A sheepish smile shaped Declan's face, making him look boyish. "I guess I was still holding back a little before."

"Me, too," she confessed. Her head angled for another kiss. Her lips ghosted against his. "But now I'm ready for us to go wild together."

"Together," Declan agreed, pulling Melanie to him for another round of bliss that would stretch through until morning.

A gurgle of delight echoed off ancient stone walls in the English countryside.

"Shhh," a masculine voice cautioned. "You'll give us away."

From where she sat on the far side of Melanie's workbench, Camryn Goddard leaned back and glanced down the long hall.

"We can hear you," she laughed. "And now I can see you, too."

She stretched her arms out and made an excited "gimme" motion as Declan entered the room holding an infant swaddled in soft black linen threaded through with fine filaments of silver.

"Sorry," he said, sidestepping Cammie and zeroing in on where Melanie fussed with a vest draped over a male dress form. "The only reason she's not red faced and squalling is because I promised her a fresh nipple."

Melanie's cheeks flushed a dark crimson as Cammie descended into laughter.

"Give me a minute," she said, ignoring her husband's extended arms while she removed the pincushion strapped to her wrist and patted at her clothes to make sure she hadn't picked up any stray pins or needles while working.

"I wish I could watch Iola filming," Cammie said, her lips pushing out in a bright pink pout as she leaned over the worktable and caressed the top of the baby's head.

"I wish I could watch her filming," Melanie repeated. "But she's temperamental unless there's a closed set. She expects everyone to take their turn holding her. It's worse if my mom and Roger are on set. We can forget filming until she's had all the cuddles and a long nap."

Grabbing a shawl from the valet stand, Melanie flung half of the material over her shoulders and down her back then took her daughter in her arms. She headed toward a wide chaise lounge, Declan beating her to the spot and draping his long frame over the tufted velvet. He spread his legs, opening a pocket for her to sit in.

She clicked her tongue at him, her brain still in wardrobe mode. "You'll pick up lint."

He winked and pursed his lips in a kiss. "You can roll me later, beautiful."

Her cheeks flushed again. Almost two years married and he could still make her blush with the slightest suggestive twinkle in his eye.

Letting go of the argument with a happy sigh, she eased onto the chaise then into Declan's arms. Adjusting Iola and then her blouse, she offered the baby a nipple. As Iola latched on, Melanie brought the scarf's lightweight fabric to lay gently over the baby's head.

Cammie got up, her back to the scene for a few minutes as she looked at the elaborate headdress Declan would wear in the next scene. It was exactly as Melanie had sketched it almost three years ago in the screening room at the house in Los Angeles. Silver beads framed silver gossamer wings, partnered with real bird feathers of peacock and raven with tightly budded, blood black roses that had never bloomed.

Eyes misting, Melanie twisted her neck until she could look at Declan.

I love you, she mouthed.

He pressed his lips to her temple, his fingers stroking at her neck to relax away the threat of happy tears.

"Oh!" Cammie said, her body jerking once in an excited bounce. "I finally remembered to get it out of storage!"

Melanie's expression wrinkled as Cammie disappeared down the hallway.

"Did that make sense to you?" Declan asked, his lips against Melanie's ear.

"Not in the least," she answered.

The warm breath against her skin and Declan's gentle tone made her want to drift off to sleep. She'd been up before sunrise, Declan, too. She had the whole of wardrobe to run and Iola to get ready. He had his added role of director, which put him on the set at the same time the cameras and prop were getting set up, which was always too damn early.

It was the last week of filming and, physically, they were both hanging on by a thread at the end of each day.

"Is mommy getting sleepy?" he cooed as he left off toying with a thick strand of Melanie's hair to slide his hand beneath the scarf and stroke the back of his finger against Iola's cheek.

"I'm not the only one," Melanie said as the baby sleepily sucked at her lunch.

Cammie returned, trying and failing to tiptoe on the castle's stone flooring in her high heels.

"Is she awake?" she whispered, drawing near with her hand behind her back.

"Yes, but barely," Melanie confirmed. She angled her head, trying to see what Cammie was hiding. "That's not another gift, I hope. You can't have had any room in your suitcase for clothes as it is."

"Nope, just something I was supposed to return almost three years ago."

Bringing her hand forward, she held out a black baseball cap with a stylized red B at its front.

"Sorry," she blushed. "Things have a tendency to get misplaced when you move twice in two years. I could have sworn I'd gone through every box and bin in storage."

"No worries," Declan said, taking the cap. "There should be a black Sharpie in that vase on the worktable. Can you get it for me?"

Mouth puckering in confusion, Cammie complied with his request. Taking the pen, Declan wiggled behind Melanie and then she felt the brim of the cap against her back, his wrist moving against her shoulder blade.

Capping the pen, he handed it and the baseball hat to Cammie.

The blonde read what Declan had written, her mouth stretching in a broad smile as her eyes misted. Shoving the hat in Melanie's direction, she wiped a careful line beneath each eye to stop her mascara from smudging.

"Here, love," Declan said, taking the hat and holding it so that Melanie could see what he had just written.

Keep the cap,

I got the girl.

Declan Bain

##########THE END##########

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Copyright © 2016 by Christa Wick

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