“Fuck,” he groaned as he shifted even closer. “You're gonna ruin me, Bri.”
Without another word, he stood, shifting over to the coffee table. He pulled it right in front of me then sat down, appraising my pussy like it was a priceless work of art. “Spread yourself more,” he said, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it. “Want to see every inch of you.”
I did as he commanded, propping my feet up on each side of him to open myself up more. My fingers danced along my clit in concentric circles, applying a little more pressure with each rotation. My breath caught in my throat, soaking up every filthy image as it passed through my mind. With Damien’s eyes glued to my hands, a newfound confidence etched itself inside my skin, letting his desire fuel my own.
When my lips parted and a moan slipped out, he clenched his hands and almost reached out for me. Instead, he palmed his impressive cock. God, I wanted it. Wanted it in my mouth. Wanted him inside me. The last time we’d found ourselves in this position, he promised me I’d feel him for days. And he was right. With every step, in the back ofmy throat—every move I made reminded me how this man had destroyed all my notions about sex in one night.
“Fuck your fingers, Bri,” Damien muttered, still watching each of my movements. As I slid my middle and index fingers inside myself, he growled. “Yes, just like that. Feel that fucking perfect pussy? I can still remember it wrapped around me, making me lose my mind. Use your thumb too; play with that clit while you keeping fucking yourself.” I didn’t even hesitate, following his lead no matter where it might take me. Now, all I could think about was the pleasure igniting my veins, the kind I was giving myself with Damien’s guidance.
“Add another finger, Bri.” I shook my head, and Damien just chuckled. “Don’t think you can? Come on, angel. You took this cock like it was made for you. You can take one more.”
I did as he asked, thrusting my fingers inside me. Normally, when I tried this, it was too hard to get out of my head, but with Damien’s words and the gruff timbre of his voice, I was already starting to tumble over the edge.
“Fuck, Bri. You’re too fucking gorgeous like that. You’re doing so good, angel. Such a good fucking girl, fucking your fingers like I asked.”
At his words, my walls crushed against my fingers, and my orgasm ripped through me, more intense than anything I’d ever experienced from my own hands. But even as my mind faded into the hums of pleasure, there was no mistaking the real cause—Damien.
As my throbbing core stilled, I pulled my fingers away, grimacing as I tried to stand to go to the kitchen. But before my shame took over, Damien grabbedmy wrist, bringing my damp fingers to his lips. He hummed as he sucked them into his mouth like it was his favorite flavor. Blush colored my cheeks as I stared at him, no longer as confident as I’d been only moments earlier.
Shame rushed through me, reminding me of sermons and lectures about the dangers of giving in to temptation. Sin. As much as I wanted to push those thoughts out of my mind, they were embedded deep in my subconscious.
When he released my hand, Damien intertwined our fingers, staring up at me as if he could read my insecurities. “Don’t run from this, Bri.”
“What we just did?—”
“Was fucking perfect,” he answered for me. “Don’t let anyone shame you for owning your pleasure. Not with me. You’re too fucking beautiful when you come to ever believe there’s anything wrong with it.”
My eyes lifted and met his, searching for any hint of a lie. I knew better than to trust pretty promises whispered after dark, but it was different with Damien—an unbridled truth, begging me to let him in.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
Damien crushed his lips to my forehead. For a moment, I dared to imagine his lips on my mouth, to taste my flavor on his tongue. He held me against his chest, his body chasing away any doubts about his words. His racing pulse, his cock, thick and strained between us—everything screamed how much he wanted me. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my arms,” he answered as he pulled back. “I want to take a picture of you when you come and hang it over my bed.”
I chuckled, trying to hide the prickle of unease washing over me. “Might be a little awkward for anyone else climbinginto it.”
Damien’s jaw tensed, the usual humor missing from his expression. “I don’t want to think about that, not tonight.” His hands reached down, cupping my thighs to lift me up. My legs tightened around him, brushing his cock against my core. As my mouth opened on a moan, Damien groaned with desperation. “Need you, Bri. Let me have you?”
I smirked up at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
FIFTEEN
Early the next morning, my eyes reluctantly opened, taking in the unfamiliar view. Shit. I fell asleep at Damien’s. That didn’t exactly fall within the scope of our agreement, but in this moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Forcing my limbs to move, I stretched out on Damien’s king-sized bed, letting the sun warm my face. The city skyline was a world away from the brick wall my room faced.
A girl could get used to this view.
Speaking of views, when I twisted back around, Damien’s sleeping face greeted me. His expression was so relaxed, so much different from the subtle signs of stress he usually carried with him. To the rest of the world, he might look like the confident leader of the Hawks, but in these quiet moments, it became easy to see how much the pressure weighed on him.
Glancing down, I took in his bare chest, unabashedly ogling the man. His body was a work of art, made up of tight, powerful muscles. His arm jutted out anddragged me back against him. With my head nestled in the crook of his neck, I sighed, relishing how right it felt being nestled in his arms.
Where the hell had that come from?
My stomach rioted at the traitorous thought. Less than ten hours ago, we’d agreed on only one more night. Damien might have teased me about wanting more, but there was no way he actually meant it. Distance. I needed some distance. No thinking about waking up next to Damien, no wondering what it would be like to spend more nights cuddled in his embrace.
That was the old me talking, the one who fool-heartedly believed in fairy tales.
As if a cold shock filled my veins, I twisted away from him. But just as I pushed the sheet off my body, Damien’s grip around my middle tightened. My back collided with his firm chest, and as much as I told myself not to, I relaxed into his grip.
“Are you sneaking out on me?” Damien grumbled, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
