He paused. “Sorry. I’m just so into you. I forget that you’re probably not as excited by all this.”
My eyes widened. “What? Of course I am.”
“Yeah?” He cupped my face. “You feel like you’re going to die every minute that you’re not kissing me?”
My breath caught. Did he really feel so strongly?
His mouth crashed onto mine, saving me from answering. I parted my lips, letting his tongue sweep in, and met his strokes with an urgency of my own. All the aggravation and anger that used to rage in me had transitioned to passion and need.
I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him as if it was my last chance. Damon shoved at my shirt, and we parted long enough to strip off our clothes as quickly as possible before falling into the bed together.
Damon flipped me onto my stomach, making me gasp. I loved how strong he was. He grabbed my hips and tugged them up, raising my ass.
He spread my cheeks and licked over my hole, wasting no time. I whimpered and pushed my ass back, wanting more.
“Yeah, this is what you need,” he murmured, breath hot on my skin. “My tongue in your ass. Right, Mav? Tell me.”
“Need you,” I managed, never one for lots of dirty talk.
Damon did enough for both of us. He made a growling sound, then renewed the pleasurable assault on my rim, licking and nibbling, driving me out of my mind, then driving his tongue into my hole.
I was vers, and this much attention to my ass was igniting a craving for more penetration. “Damon, please.” I squirmed. “I need more.”
He leaned over me to open his side table. “Tell me what you want.”
“Your fingers.”
“I can do that.”
“Then your cock.”
He hesitated. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”
My hole fluttered, my insides burning for that stretch and rub that only a good dicking down could give me. “If you’re up for it.”
“Hell yeah. Anything you want.”
He slicked his fingers and pressed two inside. They were thick enough to stretch me, and I groaned a little as he sank them in to the knuckle. Damon had done this enough to know I could take penetration.
“Stretch me good. Hurry.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, scissoring his fingers to stretch my rim, then giving me a few thrusts to loosen me up.
He hit my prostate and my body lit up.
“Fuck! That’s good. I’m ready.”
He withdrew his fingers, which stung, and I waited impatiently, aching for more, as he got a condom on and slicked himself.
“Tell me if I go too fast,” he said as he lined up.
“I can take it. Just rail me.”
“Fuck,” he said, voice strained.
He slammed into me, tearing a yell from me. My body was prepped, but damn, that sudden entry still burned like hell.
He froze. “Too much, right? I’m sorry. You said to rail you. I just thought—” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”
