“Harper,” he breathes against my mouth, “I shouldn’t want this.”
“Then stop,” I pant.
Neither of us do anything to stop our wandering hands or our mouths.
“I need to taste you,” he mutters roughly before his hands slide inside my underwear. My hips jump, his slender fingers rubbing against the moist flesh. I find his lips, whimpering into them as I tug at his belt, unzipping his fly in a heartbeat.
My body hasn’t forgotten this familiar, sinful dance it seems.
His middle finger slides in with ease, and I moan into his mouth. My hands feel his hard member, bigger than I remember it being.
My mouth waters as he pumps his fingers in me, pulling them out to taste them on his tongue with an appreciative noise. I raise my ass in the air, bending over his erection to take the mushroom head in my mouth.
He throws his head back, cursing under his breath as my tongue tastes the bead of precum at the tip. His hand bunches my hair in a fist as I hungrily swallow around his cock, my pussy clenching for more.
“Fuck, just like that,” he grunts, pushing my head down. I come up with a gasp, disoriented as he manhandles me onto his lap. A loud tearing noise tells me my underwear has taken the brunt of our activity, but I could not care less.
I grab his pulsing cock, positioning it at my center as he holds me up. It impales me slowly, the delicious stretch making me gasp and writhe.
“Fuck, fuck,fuck!” I gasp, my toes curling as he slowly sheathes to the hilt inside me.
He looks as undone as me, his chest heaving, mouth wet. Before I can move, he uses brute strength to move me off his cock, sliding back in with his girthy cock, a stretch that should be illegal because of how good it feels.
“Fuck me harder, come on,” I taunt him shakily. “This isn’t you.”
That’s all he needs to hear. His fingers dig into the fat of my ass as he fucks inside deeply, my walls closing around him. His other hand sneaks between my legs to play with my clit, making my whole body jolt with pleasure.
My orgasm isn’t far—I’ve been on the edge ever since he ordered me to climb in the backseat. With each deep stroke, I feel him hit something deep inside, something so pleasurable my eyes nearly roll to the back of my head.
I gasp against him, and he pulls me into another kiss, angling me closer, swallowing the sound like it’s fuel.
His hand threads into my hair, tilting my head. A wanton sound escapes me, and he answers with a low growl that vibrates through every part of me.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his hips pistoning into mine, “give it to me.”
My toes curl inside my shoes, my lower belly pulsing, pulsing, pulsing until—
A loud scream leaves me as my body pulls taut, back arching with the force of my climax ripping through me. He thrusts inside me once, twice, before his member throbs inside me.
He groans, his breath moist against mine. He kisses me again, the hunger now mellowed out.
We breathe together. He’s the one to retreat first as he pulls me off him, zipping up his fly and buttoning his pants.
As I lie there, the question slips out raw, fragile, humiliating in its hope before I can stop them.
“Will you call me?”
His expression freezes. I watch as the warmth drains from his face, tenderness vanishing, leaving only the man the world fears.
“You should know better,” Damian says flatly, “than to expect flowers from a man like me.”
The words slice through me like a sharp blade.
He collects his jacket without looking at me and opens the door. Air rushes in, winter-cold. As he reverses towards the curb outside my apartment, I sit in the backseat, gathering my bearings.
He doesn’t even glance at me when I gather my coat or offer a parting line. He doesn’t even bother asking if I’m alright.
I step out and the car pulls away like I was never inside it.
