He can’t even finish the sentence when I slip my hand into his waistband and wrap my hand around his naked cock. He snarls and reaches down, pulling at his sweats so that he spills free.
I lean back and stare. He’s… gigantic. There’s no other word for him.
He’s glistening with precome, his big tip shiny with a dollop, his thickness rock-solid. My core aches as I think about him sliding into me and setting my tunnel on fire with ecstasy.
“What we do in the dark can’t hurt us,” he moans, slipping his hand up my thigh, moving closer to my sex. I’m so wet for him, even more than I was in the gym, absolutely soaked and throbbing.
I kiss his mouth, then his neck, and I know I’d kiss all the way down his body until I tasted his solid length if it wasn’t for an intrusive thought punching into my mind.
I suddenly see him standing over Rico, holding a knife in his hand, blood dripping from the end of the blade like red teardrops. In the vision, the knife is impossibly reflective, showing Rico’s mangled body, brutalized and broken.
He deserved it, but that doesn’t make thinking about it any easier.
What else has Damian done? How far has the Beast gone?
I stop, lean back, my chest suddenly tight. It’s like my two realities collide, the fake me and the real me smashing together until I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He stands quickly, like he doesn’t trust himself to stay in bed with me and not do anything about it. He’s tense all over as he wrenches his pants up. The first time he misses, causing his large dick to jostle up and down. On the second try, it gets caught in his waistband. He groans and reaches into his pants, readjusting, until his dick is pressing firmly against the fabric.
He stares at me, opens his mouth, then closes it.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
Stop saying that.
“Me too,” he grunts grumpily, turning away.
What is he sorry for, though? What he did to Rico, what he’s done to others? The secret darkness he keeps to himself? The sick things he’s done? Just how much of a beast is he?
He gives me an answer, his broad back turned, his voice low and rough. “I’m sorry we ever started this. But more than that, I’m fucking sorry I’m not buried in your wet pussy right now. I’m sorry, I’m not fucking you until you cream all over my dick. I’m sorry I’m not leaving a tattoo of my teeth on your body like I want to.”
He closes the door behind him, leaving me in the semidarkness, my body alight with desire and my mind burning with uncertainty.
His words echo in my head.
I bite my lip and press my legs together.
I’m so, so wet.
CHAPTER 15
CELINE
Sleep is a long way off. Ever since Damian stormed out, I’ve tossed and turned, reliving those moments when I was about to kiss down his body and take him in my mouth. Half of me wishes I’d gone all the way, and the other half is mad as hell for my performance after work, burying my head-in-the-sand.
I don’t know him, don’t know the extent of his darkness.
I yawn and look at the clock. It’s two AM. I haven’t got work tomorrow, so screw it. It’s time I stopped waiting for someone to handle this for me and made some moves myself.
Climbing to my feet quietly, I creep toward the door and onto the landing. Damian’s bedroom is at the end of the hall, I’m guessing, because it’s the only door that’s closed. I pad across the landing and poke my head into rooms.
Bedroom, bedroom… study.
If I’m going to find something, this looks promising. I try not to hold my breath as I walk around the neat room. The window isfilthy, just like all the windows in this place, but the rooms itself is clean and immaculate.
I turn on the computer, but obviously, it’s password protected. Opening the top drawer, I take out a small folder. Photos spill onto the desk, lit by the lamplight I’ve had to turn on… I won’t be able to see anything otherwise, but it’s a risk.
