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“Hurry,” she whispers, and I am happy to oblige.
I capture her hand with mine and kiss it before pushing off the bed. I cross the room and turn on the surround sound, filling the room with music. The idea being to occupy her mind with anything but that dark room, her prison of hours before. By the time I’m beside the bed, I’ve pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, and Alana is sitting up, her beautiful breasts on display, and she doesn’t seem to notice anything but me. I’m struck again by her willingness to be vulnerable with me after what happened today, or maybe it’s more about her simply feeling safe enough with me that she isn’t vulnerable.
That is the kind of trust that is rare and that my father would ravish with destruction, but I will never betray or use Alana.
Instead of her own nudity, she’s focused on me, watching me with rapt attention, her eyelids heavy, her hair a wild, sexy mess, but then everything about her is sexy to me and always has been. There were so many fucking women I tried to bury myself in, to forget her, to protect her, but none of them were her, and there lied the problem.
I pull off the boots I’d inherited from Adam, then my own socks, and my pants go next, boxers and all, my cock springing forward. I toss it all aside, and the way Alana is staring at me, drives urgency in me, I do not want to feel. The heat in her stare, the way she’s looking at my erection, the scrape of her teeth on her lips, is a brutal taunting. So easily, I could bury myself inside her, but in the process, I’d fuck her, not make love to her.
And that’s not what either of us needs tonight.
I draw deep on my willpower, but damn it, she runs her tongue over her lips, and all I can think about is her mouth on me, sucking me. I groan low in my throat and occupy myself with the next best thing to her mouth on me, which is my mouth on her. My knees hit the mattress, filling one of my hands with her breast, and thumbing her nipple, even as I settle her against the mattress. I don’t allow myself to settle all the way down, for fear it’s all over if I feel that sweet heat between her thighs.
The music shifts to a song I downloaded because it reminded me of Alana. Hozier. Too Sweet. The words, You keep telling me to live right, fill the air, and I say, “You are the definition of living right.”
“I think I get you in trouble.”
“Only good trouble, baby. Only good trouble,” and I swear my mouth closes down over hers about the time the song skips to the lyric, You’re too sweet for me, and there it is. The truth. The sweetness of her tongue against my tongue. The sweetness of her heart compared to the blackhole that has become mine—until she came back to me. Until she started to show me another way. She’s always thought I was too good for her, and I’ve always known it’s the other way around.
I lift my head and nip her bottom lip, caressing away the pinch before she ever has the chance to feel it fully. “Where should I lick next?”
She seems to know I’m not in the mood to demand she answer me or be denied. The corners of her mouth curve. “Surprise me. I like it that way.”
There is a unique mix of playfulness and intensity between us that would never exist between me and any other woman. Ever. I begin to kiss my way down her neck, easing lower, until I’m cupping her breasts, and kissing her perky pink nipples. Her fingers slice into my hair, a telltale sign of her pleasure is the tugs and pulls. I fucking love it.
I kiss a path to her belly, and she arches her back in anticipation of where my mouth might go next. My lips press just above her belly button, and her stomach quakes beneath my lips. I smile against her skin, my hand reaching to her thigh, my thumb caressing, and goosebumps pelting beneath my touch. I caress a path upward until my thumb swipes an intentional mark across her delicate, swollen clit. She gasps, and in the throes of her response, I layer on the attack on her senses, sliding two fingers along the slick seam of her body. My cock pulses with the slick heat there, the demand of my own body pounding at me, even as I press inside her, her muscles clenching around them. She pants and reaches for me, her fingers twining roughly in my hair, and my mouth lingers just about her nub, the heat of my breath teasing her.
“Damion,” she pleads, and tonight is not the night I torment her. She’s given me exactly what I want, which is all of her with no room for anything else.
I lick her clit and then suck, my fingers stroking her, pumping her. She writhes beneath me, a desperation to her that is as addictive and wild as anything I have ever seen from her. I am ravenous for her, and when she shatters on my tongue, it’s confirmation of the truth. She is the sweetest pleasure I have never, and will never, deserve.
But she’s still mine.
And I’m not letting her go.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Damion
I lick her until she’s gasping, laughing, her cheeks pink with the aftermath of her orgasm. “That was—”
I kiss her, letting her taste the sweet saltiness of herself on my lips, settling thick and hard between her legs where my cock nestles into the slick, sweet spot between her thighs. “It was what?” I ask, rolling her to her side, and tangling our bodies, my hand pressed to her spine, fingers splayed, molding her close.
“Everything,” she whispers.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as surely as desire courses through my body. I caress down the length of her spine and scoop her sweet little backside into my palm. “Not everything yet.”
“No,” she whispers, and I can feel the urgency building in her again as she adds, “Not yet.”
I shift our bodies and reach between us, teasing us both as I rub against her—almost, almost there—dipping my head in only to pull back. “Oh my God, Damion. You’re destroying me. How—please—”
I drive into her, pulling her against me, and shifting in the warm heat. I groan with the relief of finally feeling her snug around me. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” I stroke her hair from her face and tilt her gaze to mine. “I could die here and be a happy man.”
She laughs. “Please don’t. That would be—”
I kiss her, and it’s a collision of heat and fear and want that explodes from me and feeds her response. I can taste all of the same in her, and it stirs wildness in us, desperation in the way our bodies sway and grind, and how we try to get closer, how I try to get deeper.
But it’s never enough.
