“Mm, so do you,” I purr as I sink down inch by inch. When he fills me up, I take my time, but his fingers dig into my hips to control my ride. It’s as if he can’t just let me—he has to touch me, has to take control.
Suddenly, he rolls us over so he’s on top. He hooks his arms beneath my shoulders so his hands cup me there, then drives me into the mattress like a man on a mission. I’m pinned by him. Every stroke hits my G-spot, and I’m gone. He pounds deep and pauses, then whispers in my ear, “You’re gonna come for me.”
“Yes,” I whine.
“I feel it. Feel you throbbing on me. How helpless you are right now, your body begging for me to let you come.” He drives into me again, and I’m on the brink. But then he buries himself deep and stops again. “Tell me you want?—”
“Please! Fuck, Damian, now!”
But he only grins. It’s devious, this rogue grin of his. “That’s what I like to hear. That edge in your voice, when you’re dying for it.” He slowly slides out and in and almost out again. “What’ll you let me do if I let you come?” He starts up again, slow this time. Waiting me out.
“Anything,” I pant, voice breaking. He’s keeping me on that edge, and I want to kill him and kiss him at the same time.
He leans down, his stubble brushing my cheek. “Will you let me have your ass?”
“Yes! Just make me come!”
He takes my hands and weaves his fingers with mine, then hammers me until pleasure bursts and floods and takes over completely. I’m soaring in my skin, pulsing in my bones. One becomes two. Two grow into three. He kisses me and keeps going until I’m utterly spent, and I’ve lost count of my orgasms.
Then he flips me over. I’m too weak to get on my knees, so he spreads my legs apart. And then I remember what he asked for. Not my favorite thing on the menu.
I take a breath to say something, but then he thrusts into my pussy instead. He rolls us onto our sides and this time, there’s no rush. Not even when I feel him swell inside of me. He murmurs my name and kisses my shoulder as he wraps an arm around me.
Somehow, with him behind me, this is more intimate. He half rolls me just enough that he can kiss my mouth while staying inside from behind, and the moment our lips meet, he groans as his hips jerk. He comes half in and half out of me, and while he does, he rolls me onto my back again to keep kissing me. He makes a mess of my sheets, and I don’t even care.
When he’s finished, he stays on top of me, staring into my eyes as he strokes my cheek. “You’re amazing.”
“So are you.” I bite his thumb and grin with it in my teeth.
It makes him laugh and kiss me again. “I don’t ever want to leave this bed.”
I’m pretty sure he means metaphorically, but at the moment, I don’t care if he’s being literal. “Then stay the night.”
Holy shit. Have I ever said that to anyone?
He half nods, half smiles, then kisses me again. I feel him harden against my hip, and I know I’m not getting any sleep tonight.
14
DAMIAN
For a moment,I don’t know where I am. The ceiling is unfamiliar. The air smells faintly of lavender and something warmer beneath it—her. The sheets are softer than mine. The mattress narrower.
Then memory returns in steady, unpanicked waves. Perry. Her laughter. Her mouth in the kitchen. Her hands at my collar. Her breath at my ear.
My thoughts are as scattered as the scant dust motes drifting in the early morning light.
This is not a mistake.That’s the first clear thought.
The second is less comfortable.She is too young for me.
The age difference didn’t feel pronounced in conversation. Or in the dark. It doesn’t even feel pronounced now, watching her sleep. But it exists. In the world outside this room, we will be judged.
Plenty of men date younger women here, though. There’s another detail that will be noted by my social circle, however.She is my son’s ex-girlfriend. That detail has weight. Snow Valley will enjoy that tidbit immensely.
I can live with that. But she’s also a new mother. That factor lingers longer than the others.
The apartment is quiet because Perry’s friend, Olivia, took the twins for the evening. Evidence of them is everywhere—folded blankets in the living room, a bottle drying rack by the sink, the faint hum of a baby monitor plugged into the wall even though there’s nothing to transmit.
