Mio, Run Baby Run

Chapter 13 Declan

A warm glow filters through the large glass windows ahead, gently illuminating the room. I blink rapidly, clearing the dry, crusted sleep from my eyes. There's a weight on my chest, and as I come to, I realize we've fallen asleep on the sofa. She's curled up between my legs, her slender body perfectly moulded against mine. My legs stretch out across two large seats, and I take a moment to appreciate the feel of her without truly touching her. Her figure is taut and lean, hidden beneath that dowdy brown dress. Who the fuck wears boring brown. It baffles me why anyone with a body like hers would choose to smother it in drab clothing well beyond her years.

In sleep, her true beauty shines. Silky strands of mousy brown hair fall around her face, and without thinking, I sweep them back, studying her angelic features. I want to savour this moment, to commit her image to memory before she wakes and her sharp tongue ruins it all. Committing her image to memory, so the next chick I fuck, I can imagine it's her. Picture her face in my mind's eye, while some bitch sucks the life force from my cock.

Plump pale pink lips part slightly, intakes of breath regulate, exhaling on a low whistle. As I study her, my cock hardens against my jeans. I let my imagination run wild—her strapped to my bed, legs parted, pussy glistening like a diamond in the morning sunlight. In my mind, she's restrained, her eyes covered. I imagine, alternating between a feather, that I'd used to stroke her sweet cunt, so lightly, tender the tip of the feather barely touching her naked skin. And the riding crop I bring down in one hand, slapping her folds, the sting taking her by surprise. Her pussy weeps for me and fuck me if that doesn't make me want to come all over her. Jesus Christ Declan, logic and rational thoughts crash down like truth bombs, blowing up the fantasy, colouring my imagination. My cock is rock hard, and I need to get home, shower, and forget about this fucken girl. She's just a girl, and I know very well it takes a woman to truly satisfy my needs.

I extricate myself from her, careful not to wake her. Standing, the morning light at my back, I look down at her and contemplate searching her home for any intel. But what does it matter? If she's involved in something illegal, she's off-limits. No need for anyone to know I was here. Remembering she just buried her mother; I recognize the fragility in her. Memories of my father's death flood back. The immense sadness that feels like it will never end. The rolling rage and anger that has you feeling like you want to tear down the walls of the world. Destroy anything and everything, because if you can't be happy, then sure as fuck, no one else deserves to be happy. She has a long road ahead, and I admonish myself for even considering prying into her life. I have done my good deed here.

Even if she's a genuine, moral citizen, she's not the woman I need. She wouldn't be up for what I would demand from her. She's not a player. From her reserved fashion sense and neat freak nuances, she's guarded. Maybe she's a hotshot lawyer, explaining her caution and evasiveness. But she's too young. No, she's probably some lawyer's dirty secret. Lawyers—the profession I despise most. Not because of their money, but because they're parasites who thrive on fractured lives. That's likely how she can afford this place—it's not her paying for it. She's sweet vanilla, with a cherry on top, and I hate vanilla as much as I hate lawyers.

My sexual preferences are unconventional. I like what mainstream society would deem abusive, misogynistic, belittling and half a dozen other new age terms. Toys, BDSM, dom and sub—I like it hard. Rough. Blaming my career for my sexual tastes would be an empty excuse. Serving all these years, exposed to a smorgasbord of fetishes and depravity, has shaped me, but my desires run deeper than that.

Sighing, I glance at her one last time before walking away. This girl, with her contradictions and complexities, has gotten under my skin. But I need to let her go. She's not for me.