He slips one hand around so he can massage my ass while he lavishes my clit with attention, sucking it and pushing his tongue against it, an isolated form of heat like a miniature explosion between my legs.
His finger teases my entrance, then slips inside, never moving his mouth and relentless tongue away from my clit. My head swims, and my hips gyrate without me needing to make a conscious decision to do it.
Surrounded by paper snowflakes, I chase the pleasure, twitching my hips urgently, the sensation rising unstoppably inside of me.
Nothing else matters – nothing else exists.
“Oh,fuck,” he snarls when he feels me tightening around his finger.
He can read my body like a book. He knows me better than I know myself.
I pull on the banister so hard the wood creaks. He makes savage sounds as he feasts on me, his tongue stroking faster, harder, with more and more pressure each second.
Soon, my vision is growing blurry. Surrounded by snowflakes, I give myself to the orgasm – to my brother’s best friend.
He snarls when the release gushes out of me. His tongue is so heated, so fast, so persistent. I can’t think, don’t want to think.
I just grind against him, my hips twitching uncontrollably. A moan splinters out of me at the same time as the orgasm reaches its peak. I fall back after struggling to catch my breath.
He stands firm all over, his solid manhood pushing against his pants, the outline of his hugeness clear.
“Now’s the fucking time,” he snarls. “Here and now, Celine. Beg me to stop. Fuckingbegme.”
The way he says it makes it clear.
He wants me to beg, sure, but not to stop, never to stop.
“I’m begging you,” I whimper. “To fuck me, Damian. Please, please fuck me?—”
He picks me up, cradling me, one hand bracing my back, and the other buried against my ass as he runs up the stairs.
He hasn’t seen the scar on my back, not yet. I’m not actively hiding it, but I hope our passion doesn’t take us there, doesn’t let him see the imperfection spread across my back.
Does that make me a hypocrite? I don’t care abouthisscar.
My brother’s best friend’s hands are all over me. Being a hypocrite is the least of my worries.
CHAPTER 18
DAMIAN
Ikick open my bedroom door and drop gently onto the bed. She has no idea how perfect her body is. How beautiful the passion on her face is. Her tangled hair and the flush in her cheeks…
Every inch of her adds to the urgency in my cock. Precome soaks my briefs. She lies on the sheets, her legs open, her pink and pleasure-swollen pussy looking ready for more. Her thighs glisten with her wetness.
She sits up, reaching for my crotch. “What are you doing?” I snarl.
She flinches, a moan escaping her. Squeezes her legs together like the animal gruffness in my voice is turning her on even more. “What does it look like?”
I shake my head. “I need you now. I’ll explode in your perfect mouth otherwise. I’m on the fucking edge. But first.”
She squeals in delight when I lean down and grab her tank top, pulling it over her head. The front of her bra is no match for my teeth. I yank it loose… and her breasts spill free.
Big, beautiful, bouncy.
I kneel at the edge of the bed so that I’m eye-level with her beauty. Push her tits together and savor her moan. It’s pure release. Pure hunger. No guilt tangled up in there, even if there should be.
I greedily feast on her peaks, sucking and swirling my tongue around them. She glides her hand through my hair, gasping as I suck one nipple then the other. She’s addictive.
