I moan—filled, helpless, overwhelmed. My mouth is open, gasping, my chest rising and falling like I’ve been sprinting, but all I can do is take it.Take him.
He shifts, adjusts his hand, and then he starts to move—fast. Hard. His fingers drive into me in quick, punishing thrusts, filling me so deep, so perfectly, I feel like I’m going to come instantly. Wet sounds fill the room, slick and filthy, every thrust pushing me higher, dragging me closer to that impossible edge.
My head thrashes against the pillows, wrists straining at the tie, thighs twitching wildly as the heat coils tighter and tighter inside me, unbearable and white-hot. I’m shaking, every muscle locked, my voice breaking with ragged little gasps.
“Damian—fuck—I’m gonna?—”
I don’t get to finish. Hestops. Just—pulls his fingers out like he was never there at all. The sudden absence is violent. My whole body jerks. My thighs try to snap shut, desperate for friction, for anything, but he’s already there—gripping them, spreading me wide again, holding me open like he owns me.
“No,” he growls, low and merciless. “You don’t come until I say. You don’t come until Imakeyou.”
“Damian,” I sob, hips rocking helplessly against air, slick and pulsing and so fucking empty I could cry.
He keeps my legs spread wide, his grip iron and unforgiving, and then he lowers his mouth to my skin like he owns every inch of it.
A kiss to my inner thigh. Then another. Higher. Slower.
He moves to my stomach, pressing a hot kiss just below my navel, and then…
He exhales.
A cool breath ghosts over my wet, aching pussy.
I gasp. Arch. My wrists pull tight against the bra wrapped around the headboard.
My body’s a live wire. I’m soaked, twitching, clenching around nothing.
He looks up at me, eyes burning.
“Now,” he murmurs, voice like smoke. “I’m going to fuck you with my tongue.”
He moves between my legs again, slow, deliberate, cruel in the most beautiful way.
“I’m going to take you right to the edge again,” he says, brushing the tip of his nose just above where I’m soaked. “And you’re going to take it. All of it.”
And then he does.
His tongue parts me and I scream—no buildup, no mercy. Just heat and wet and pressure,deepand consuming. He flattens his tongue and drags it from my entrance all the way to my clit, slow at first, then faster, sharper, flicking and circling until I’m writhing beneath him.
My body trembles violently. My legs try to close around his head, but he shoves them apart with his shoulders, keeping me helpless, spread, ruined.
“Damian—” I sob, broken, shaking. “Please, I can’t—please?—”
He groans into me like he’s getting drunk off how desperate I am. His tongue fucks into me, then pulls back to lap at my clit with maddening precision, over and over and over until I’mright there—every muscle locked, every nerve lit up, the orgasm clawing its way up my spine.
And then he pulls away again. I cry out—loud, ragged, raw. Fuck, I love when he takes control of me like this. My thighs try to chase him, but he holds them down, spreads them wider, forces me to endure the empty ache all over again.
“Not yet,” he growls, voice thick with hunger.
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. I nod, shaking, because I’ll take anything he gives me—every second of this slow beautiful torture—just for the promise of how it will feel when he finally, finally lets me break.
And then he stands.
My breath catches.
Because he undresses in silence—slowly, like he knows I can’t look away.
First the button of his jeans, then the zipper, and he pushes them down his hips with a practiced roll, revealing hard muscle, inked skin, the thick line of his cock already straining beneath his briefs.
