Chapter 61

Declan pulled away gently, brushing a soft kiss to my forehead before standing up. “Alright,” he said with a sudden change in energy. “Enough of this. Show me your RA proposal.”

I blinked up at him from the couch. “Now?”

He gave me a look. “It’s due in two days, Willow.”

“Yes, but…”

He raised an eyebrow.

I groaned, dragging myself up from the couch. “Fine. You really know how to ruin a romantic night.”

He chuckled. "We're just multitasking."

I fetched my laptop and settled at his dining table while he poured us each another glass of wine, though I suspected his was more ceremonial now, his mind already shifting into professor mode.

I opened the file and slid the laptop toward him. “Here. Be kind.”

He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes scanned the document with focused precision, his mouth drawn into a firm line. I watched as his brows furrowed in places as he read, his fingers occasionally tapping the edge of the table. I waited in anticipation.

“This is… a solid start,” he said finally. “But your framing is too general. You’re glossing over your unique experience with your fieldwork. That’s your strongest asset, and it’s barely mentioned.”

I folded my arms. “I was trying not to make it too anecdotal.”

“You can be rigorous and personal. That’s what makes your perspective valuable. Especially for this position.” His voice was gentle but firm, slipping into the academic tone I’d heard him use in class.

It was turning me on.

I nodded, scribbling notes on my iPad as he pointed out gaps in methodology and phrasing. He didn’t sugarcoat anything, if anything, he was more exacting than usual. And it irritated me. But it also weirdly reassured me.

He looked at me, patting his lap. I raised my eyebrows, but did as told, getting up from my seat and perching on his lap. He waited till I was comfortable. Then, I felt his hand wrap around my throat from behind. “Your conclusion is weak,” he spoke. “You’ve got to tie it back to department goals. You’ve made a case for your research, not for why you should be their RA.”

I gulped. The light pressure of his hand around my neck, the tone of his words, it was all so hot to me. “Brutal.”

“I’m being honest. Would you rather I let you submit something half baked?”

A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

“Correction, dove. You’re lucky I’m in love with you. Otherwise, I’d have already redlined this whole document.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re mean.”

But he was right. I found myself looking at the proposal through a completely different lens now. It needed work. A lot of it.

“You have something important to say, Willow. You just need to say it like you mean it.”

“I will,” I whispered.

His hand left my neck, then slid down my back, twisting along my waist, down the front of my pants. I felt his cold hand on my panties, which were so wet, now.

“Good. Now rewrite the whole thing.”

I groaned. “Right now?”

“Right now, baby.”

I began to type. I felt a finger enter me. I closed my eyes, and he bit my neck. I gasped, slightly. “Don’t get distracted,” he chided, “I expect excellent work, Willow.”

“Okay.” The word came out like a whisper.

He squeezed my thigh. “Is that what you say to me?”

“I mean, yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

As I wrote, he continued his leisurely movements - his finger moving inside me, soft and slow. First, in circles, and then pumping in and out. All the while, he made sure I was working. He would stop every time I stopped. When I was finished with one section, he added another finger. But he stopped the movement. He had two fingers buried inside me to the hilt, not moving his hand. I turned a little to look at his face. “Please don’t stop.”

He smirked. “Move.”

Oh, Lord.

I felt my hips move to his instruction. Obscenely, on his lap, my eyes clenching shut, the work forgotten as I tried to get my pleasure from his fingers. A loud moan left me as I found the rhythm, sinking onto his fingers over and over as I tried to find my orgasm.

“Stop,” he ordered softly. Despite myself, despite how much I didn’t want to stop, I did.

“Stand up, and take off your clothes.”

He watched me, as I shimmied off my pants, and pulled my top over my head. When I took off my bra, he shut down my laptop, and when I took off my panties, he was already standing up, grabbing me by the wrist, bending me over the couch.

I gasped as Declan's hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. I could feel the heat of his body pressing against my back, his breath hot on my neck as he leaned in, his lips finding mine in a heated kiss. His tongue explored my mouth, and I moaned softly, my body arching against him.

“I want you so much,” I spoke against his mouth. “I know, baby.”

His hands roamed over my, tracing the curve of my back, the swell of my hips, and I shivered under his touch. My body responded to him like it belonged to him.

I could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against me, and I pushed back against him, a silent invitation that he eagerly accepted. I needed him so much.

He entered me with a swift, hard thrust, and I cried out, my hands gripping the couch. I think I even broke a nail.

He moved with a fierce intensity, his body slamming into mine, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through me. "You feel so good," he growled, his voice ragged with desire. "You belong to me." His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I could feel the tension building inside me.

He pressed on my clit with a finger. “Who does this pussy belong to you?”

“You.” I gasped, feeling him thrust into me deeper, harder. I matched his rhythm, my body moving in sync with his, our bodies joined in a familiar dance.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I love you, my little dove."

His words sent me over the edge, and I cried out as waves of pleasure washed over me. He followed soon after, his body shuddering, as he found his release inside me, filling me up.

I loved him so much, too.