“He’s asked me to befriend Chelsea so he can get into a room with her dad. Mergers go so much smoother when you’re family.”
I struggle with the unexpected revelation. Then, “Family? He’s asking you tomarryher?”
His hand moves along my side, thumb dragging along my ribcage, skin against skin. “Not yet, but who knows?”
I open my mouth.
“No.” He pushes his fingers into my mouth, clamping my tongue. “No more questions.”
Saltiness from his rough skin makes my mouth water. Instead of retracting them, he gently pumps in and out, hitting farther back each time until saliva spills from the corners of my mouth.
“Fuck you look pretty like that, swallowing my fingers.”
A ragged note roughens his voice like his control is fraying, and a tug of arousal shivers through me. He grabs my waist, holding me tighter while his hips press upwards, the length of his cock hardening against my centre until I’m fighting back a moan.
“I want to fuck you against the rear wall of the community hall while Philip’s inside, sympathising with how hard everyone’s life is.” His lips pour words directly into my ear, reducing the world to his gruff desires. “Unless you can come up with a better idea in the next thirty seconds, that’s what I’ll do.”
He pulls his fingers free.
“How can you do that?” I push his hand away from where it’s cupping my breast, and he immediately shifts it back, squeezing harder. “How can you just switch from telling me how your father tortured you to joking about—”
“I’m not joking.” He sucks at my throat and groans, the sound twisting in my gut like longing. “I need you.” His hands are everywhere. His mouth is everywhere. “I need to be in you.”
Damien’s lips find mine, and his kiss is punishing, a clack of teeth, tongue forcing its way inside, desperate, devouring. His fingers twine in my hair, caging me in place as he bites along my neck, grazing my collarbone. Sucking, pulling, marking my skin in a hundred places.
“Need you,” he gasps and the hunger in his voice, the ravenous kiss, the word itself sparks a matching craving inside me.
Need. When I’ve only ever been a burden.
Desire ripples through my body, unbidden. My greedy fingers tug at his hair, then I shove my hands underneath his shirt, exploring the ridges and valleys of his hard muscles.
The gorgeous heat of his body is a coal-stoked fire, igniting every inch of me.
And when he lifts me, his need is the reason my legs wrap around his waist, clinging as he stumbles to the rear of the hall.
My back scrapes on the rough stucco and I don’t care, any more than I care that my panties tear as he drags them aside. Freeing himself with one hand and guiding his hard, pulsing cock inside me.
Instead of fighting, I clutch hold. Heels digging into his muscular arse, helping drive him deeper. My lips swell from his kisses, my fingernails rake across his back, claw at his hips, and I can’t stop, panting for more.
Lost in ecstasy, I suck his tongue, punching his shoulder because it’s good, so good. Every muscle tightens, clasping, moving with his rhythm. Friction builds, hotter with every pump of his hips, every heartbeat. Wave after wave after wave until my eyes roll back, toes curling, and my centre tightens, tightens, and explodes.
For long minutes, I’m lost, ecstasy claiming me so deeply my consciousness drifts, senses unplugged, nothing around me but Damien’s protective warmth and a cloudy haze.
Then my hearing comes back online, his harsh panting in my ear, dissolving into a low chuckle.
“Comfortable?” he… teases? … asks? Then his hips roll forward, cock hardening again inside me.
I can’t… my nerves are over-sensitive, but my mouth doesn’t form the words, and he keeps going until the over-stimulation crosses back into pleasure.
The world is the pounding rhythm of my pulse in my ears and his hard cock in my cunt. Intoxicated on his sweat and cologne. The salty tang of his skin where I suck on his shoulder. Twisting his thick, dark curls between my fingers, giving him a taste of the same exquisite pain he gives me.
The buildup is slower, sweeter this second time around, my release bathing me in a warm glow, arm muscles liquefied by the aftershock. Unable to hold him tight enough. Lost in the joy of surrender.
I don’t know how much time passes before Damien sets me back on the ground, supporting me with his muscular arms until my knees strengthen enough to hold my own weight.
When I’m stable, he replaces my glasses and steps back. A cool breeze sweeps between us, snapping me out of the residual haze, and emotions rush into the gap, shame chief among them.
I cover my face, cheeks burning against my palms.
