“You gonna come for me? Right on top of your fucking desk so every time you sit at it you think of me.”
Shit, I never considered that, but right now it doesn’t matter. Nothing does, expect Damon and me and the God Almighty release that’s seconds away from happening.
“Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how good I make you feel, Liv.” He squeezes my ass cheek so hard as we fuck, I’m positive there’s going to be a bruise.
“It’s . . . oh, God . . . fuck . . .” My words are broken as my orgasm comes on fast and furiously. “Damon, don’t stop,” I plead helplessly, sinking my nails into the leather of his cut.
“Never.” Our hips slap together in a symphony of urgency as his cock fills and stretches me, hitting me square in the core. My nipples tighten and my clit aches as soon as the first wave of my release hits.
I cry out in the most beautiful agony. My whole body pulsating and quaking from the direct hit of desire. And it doesn’t stop. Just when I think the orgasm is about to taper off, another wave of ecstasy drags me under. Drowning me in pure, unadulterated euphoria.
Multiple times I come, multiple times I die ten-thousand tiny deaths, and multiple times I resurrect.
Every limb is shaking, my thighs quivering the hardest from the push and pull of lewd, lustful, X-rated energy flowing between us.
I collapse onto the desk from sheer exhaustion. From my life force being sucked straight out of me.
Damon thrives in my limp form. The smug fucking bastard is loving the state he put me in. He uses my comatose body for his own release. Sliding in and out of me so easily, his orgasm ticks down like a time bomb. When he finally explodes, I watch the show, fascinated, high on a hedonistic thrill. In the midst of his climax, Damon is all man. All virile, masculine, powerful, and beautiful. A female fantasy come to life.
He drops down on top of me once his orgasm passes, equally as tired and spent. Tiny aftershocks of rapture ripple between us as we lie there recovering. Damon is still snug inside me, holding me so close and tight it almost feels possessive.
As I stare at the ceiling, pondering exactly how we got to this place, Damon peppers my cheek and neck with the sweetest, feather-soft kisses. Rocking his hips leisurely. I drift serenely in his gentle rhythm and worshipful lips. Sensations that feel just as satisfying as our rough, hot tryst.
I find myself hugging him a little too tightly. Too much attached.
I know Damon and I could never be anything. He isn’t capable of that. Of a committed relationship.
But Lord, is he addictive. He is a fucking drug adorned with a million-dollar smile and silver tongue.
Damon drops a lingering kiss on my forehead right before he pushes himself off me. As soon as we separate, my body instantly calls out to his. This budding dependence is bad. It’s a one-way ticket to rehab.
Helping me to sit up, Damon straightens my dress, covering up all my most private parts.
“Shame.” He shakes his head as he buttons his pants.
“What’s that?” I finger-comb my hair, trying to make it look like it didn’t get tousled from a mid-morning quickie.
“That I have to cover up that gorgeous body. If it were up to me, I’d have you naked all damn day and all damn night.” He traps my face in his hands and drops a soulful kiss right on my lips.
“If things could be different.” He touches his forehead to mine.
I feel like I’m fucking living in La La Land. What does he mean, if things could be different? I’m not equipped to comprehend or decode anything right now, especially Damon’s ambiguity.
“Bye, Liv,” he whispers heavily, and something deep inside me shifts.
“Damon—”
“Don’t,” he stops me. “Just let me have this. This one, untainted thing.”
I frown as I look up at him. I want to know what’s going on. But I also know he won’t tell me. It’s his secret. His problem. And he’s going to keep it close. He’s also going to keep me out of it.
With one last look, and a thumb swipe across my cheek, he turns and leaves. I want to say something. Anything. But I know it won’t make a difference. Men like Damon can act like wild bears sometimes. Roaming alone. Self-reliant. Survivors.
My dad used to lick many wounds on his own. And he and Damon are so very much the same.
And whatever Damon has going on in his life, he’s determined to take care of it himself.
Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe this is what needed to happen. We each go our separate ways, no strings attached.
