Hot Summer Night

19 - Seraphine

The relieved, in-heaven expression on Declan's face when I agreed to give him a second chance, melted my heart, tickled my belly, and brought extreme heat to the area between the thighs, warming me all over that I wanted to go over to him, sit on his lap, and reunite our lips, but remembering how our mouths connected in Switzerland and with how he kissed me, I remained in my chair. I was hungry, the food was to die for, and I wasn't ready to lose my clothes and hop on what I'd been thinking and dreaming about since our night in Europe. Not just yet.

Since using him in Switzerland, knowing he'd give me what my pussy needed and had been lacking, I didn't want him to think I only agreed to be his girl to use him for my needs again. I know he knew what I did that night, even though he kept it to himself. I saw it on his face, eyes, and actions the following day—looking regretful that he allowed me to play with his heart. An act I felt terrible for doing, which is not something I'd usually do.

Besides spending time with Declan at the gym and gun range, I've distanced myself from him since returning from Europe, not wanting him to think I'd take advantage of him again. It was wrong of me to do, and I've felt guilty for doing so. At the time, even though I had plans to show my appreciation for everything he'd done for me, my other mind felt he owed me that night with him, and I took what I wanted without thinking how it would affect his heart.

Declan came to my rescue earlier when it wasn't asked or needed. He lovingly touched and affectionately held me to assure me I was safe and to show that he still cared about me.

The way his pleading eyes are on me, begging me to give him another chance, I owe him a night he deserves—just not at the dining room table where his daughter eats. After taking my last bite, I said as I eyed the empty container, "Thank you for reminding me how good Cantonese is. This was very good."

I looked up, and his smile warmed me again, building heat between my thighs. "You're welcome, Mon chéri."

Declan's term of endearment instantly sent butterflies to swarm my tummy. Even though I didn't want to do this here and wanted to wait until later, I rose to my feet and approached him. I couldn't hold back any longer. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to kiss me. I missed his lips on mine and how he put so much love and energy into every kiss we used to share. I needed to feel his mouth massaging mine and his loving arms to hold me. I straddled his lap, pressed my hands to his face, and when his curious eyes looked into mine, wondering what I was up to, I crashed my lips to his.

With this kiss, I wanted him to know how sorry I was for using him and also to let him know I missed him as much as he missed me, that I needed him, and that I wanted him just as badly as he wanted me. How he's looked at me every day since I arrived in his care, I knew just how much he'd been hoping I'd take him back.

Now he has me—I'm his—and I couldn't be more excited to have him back in my life finally.

My pussy pulsed, there was growing excitement in my belly, and my heart thumped harder against my chest when his hands formed to my head, and he moaned while pulling me tightly to his mouth, deepening the kiss, while his anxious tongue sought to play with mine.

I was so into the kiss I didn't realize I was grinding his lap until his hands lowered to my hips and created friction when he pressed me firmer onto his cock, encouraging my pussy to grind harder on it, adding more heat to my pussy. So much that I broke from his mouth, shuddered, tilted my head back, and moaned.

I quivered again when his tongue ran along my neck. "Fuck, Seraphine," he rasped, "I've missed your moans so much. They were always my favorite sounds whenever we fooled around."

Declan always had me moaning whenever we kissed, did foreplay, or when we devoured one another. The most sound he ever got out of me was the night I had finally given him all of me and our last night in Switzerland.