“I’m fine,” I said, the burn already ebbing away. “I asked you to do it. Keep doing it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.Not my first time bottoming. Take what you need. I can handle you.”
“I know you can,” he murmured, a smile in his voice. “You can handle anything.”
That was the last thing he said to me.
Damon drew back and thrust in hard, making me gasp at the impact. He held my hips in a bruising grip, keeping me where he wanted me, while he pounded into my ass, nothing but grunts and groans and the smack of skin on skin echoing through the room.
I braced one hand against the headboard so I wouldn’t end up with a concussion. Damon fucked me so hard the whole bed shook.
Then he shifted, his cock hitting my prostate, and I wailed with pleasure.
“Oh, fuck yeah, let me hear you,” Damon uttered.
“Right there. Don’t stop,” I begged.
“Never.” He swiveled his hips to grind against the spot driving me out of my mind, then withdrew and thrust in so hard I think I left my body.
I slammed back into awareness as he dragged his cock out of my ass andflipped me onto my back.
“What—” He lifted my legs and drove back inside me. “Fuck!”
“Need to see your face when you come.”
He got a hand around my cock, squeezing, and suddenly I was right there. My body went tight, every muscle contracting, and then I was shooting into his hand while my ass throbbed around his dick.
His eyes rolled back and his thrusts grew sharp and erratic. He pushed in as far as he could, shuddering hard as he came inside me.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. I didn’t know what we were doing—where this was going—but I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else right now.
Maybe not ever.
And that was scary as hell.
CHAPTER 23
Damon
“He’s goingto burn the burgers,” Dad groused from his Adirondack chair in the shade.
“He’s not going to burn anything,” Mom said, her tone infinitely patient.
The woman was a saint. I’d have lost my shit and told Dad to shut his pie hole by now. He’d done nothing but complain ever since I arrived to cook out with the family.
“I’m not helpless,” Dad continued. “I’ve been doing rehab all week. I can stand by a grill.”
“Just relax, Dad,” I called as I slid burgers onto the grill. “I promise not to give anyone food poisoning. I grill at home all the time.”
“That thing you do is not grilling,” he grumbled.
I rolled my eyes. It was true I used a gas grill, not charcoal and fire, as my father did. He was a bit of a grilling purist. But I’d endured enough of his grill-master lectures to handle it.
The sliding door opened and Wendy and Neil emerged,beers in hand. Wendy went straight to my father and handed him a beer. “Congrats on getting off the drugs, Daddy.”
He grinned up at her. “Thanks, honey. I’m starting to feel like myself again. Except my hip actually works.” He chuckled. “Rehab is a bitch though.”
