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“Well, ya still can’t look.”
Hiking my wedding dress up to my knees, I kept my eyes closed as Damien guided me along a narrow ridge through freezing cold ankle-deep water.
Once the ceiling opened up and the familiar crunch of pebbles under our bare feet echoed off the stone walls, Damien wrapped his arm around me and said, “Okay, look.”
When I opened my eyes, my body hummed with a sensation I hadn’t felt in over a year, one of the most basic human pleasures that I’d nearly forgotten, but that Damien had returned to me tenfold. The feeling of coming home.
Stone walls that my hands knew by touch alone, massive boulders that had been my make-believe furniture, a pebbled beach that, for a few moments every morning, reflected the rising sun like a disco ball … and at the far end, facing the sea and surrounded by candles and rose petals, a gorgeous wooden writing desk … and a matching four-poster bed.
“Damien …” My eyes filled with fresh tears as I glanced up at his sweet smile. “What is all this?”
He shrugged innocently, but there was a wicked gleam in his gray eyes. “My plan was to make you a writing cave, but … when I thought about bringing you here”—he turned to face me, placing his hands on my waist—“and I remembered waking up over there”—he pointed at a spot on the beach behind him—“with you on my chest”—Damien pulled my body toward his until the white lace of my wedding dress was pressed against the black tie of his suit—“and I thought about that kiss, up against the wall, over there”—Damien dipped his head and paused, his lips a breath away from mine—“I decided your writing cave needed to double as a sex dungeon.”
A laugh burst out of me but was quickly silenced by Damien’s talented mouth. His lips molded to mine, and as his tongue slipped inside, swirling and caressing and dizzying me with need, I was instantly transported back to that night. When I’d finally given in to the undeniable connection I felt. When I’d first tasted forever and recognized its sweetness. When I’d been so crippled with fear that I ruined the moment and spent the night curled up in a ball in his arms.
But I wasn’t afraid anymore. For the first time since our souls had collided all those years ago, we were finally safe. Truly free. And ready for a fucking do-over.
Pearls and buttons scattered across the pebbled beach as Damien and I tore the wedding clothes from one another’s body, giving in to the insatiable desire we’d tried so hard to deny the last time we were there.
My teeth scraped over Damien’s chiseled jaw as I jerked open his belt buckle and unzipped his trousers.
His rough hands palmed my breasts and rubbed my nipples as I stepped out of my wedding gown and kicked it to the side of the cave.
Damien’s wolfish smile made my knickers dampen as he gazed down the length of my body. Then, his eyes darkened as his finger hooked into the garter around my left thigh. A phantom memory of a faded dream flashed in my mind—an open tourniquet, gushing blood—but then it was gone, replaced with the ecstasy of Damien’s fingertips sliding along the damp satin between my legs.
Clutching his jaw, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him impatiently while he slid his boxers down one-handed. Then, I smiled around his tongue as his warm, rigid length pressed against my belly.
Gliding my hand down his chest, I let my fingertips swirl over the star-shaped scar where his bullet wound had been. Then, I dipped my head and traced it with my tongue. If Damien hadn’t been shot, I wouldn’t have needed to take care of him, and we might never have reconnected. Some of the most painful experiences of our lives had led to the happiest, and I hoped, as I took him in my hands and traced the length of him with my tongue, that all of the pain was finally behind us now.
That we could stop trying to keep each other alive.
And start trying to make each other come.
The thought made me giggle, and Damien slid a finger under my chin, encouraging me to look up at him.
“Fuck, angel. The sight of you smilin’ with my cock in your mouth is the best wedding gift you could ever give me.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as I dropped my eyes.
“Don’t do that. Look at me, darlin’. I wanna see you.”
Emboldened by his words, I held Damien’s stormy stare as I gripped the thick base of his cock and took him as deep in my throat as I possibly could. He cursed and gripped my hair as I sucked my way back up, licking a bead of pre-cum from his swollen crown, but he never once took his eyes off mine.
I had Damien’s full attention. Always. And the warmth I felt from even his steeliest stares made me bloom like the rays of the sun. Grow. Evolve. I could do anything when he looked at me like that. But mostly, I just wanted to make him smile.
“Fuck.” Pulling me up by my hair, Damien slammed his mouth against mine a second before slamming my back against the closest cave wall. He lifted my garter-adorned thigh over his hip and ground his wet cock against my slippery flesh.
“I need you,” he panted, breaking our kiss to watch our scarred bodies slide against one another.
Clutching his jaw, I lifted his face to mine. “Then, take me.” I smirked.
And he did.
Dragging his length over my throbbing clit, Damien slipped his tongue into my mouth at the same moment that he thrust the head of his cock into my equally needy body.
And I instantly tensed around him.
“Shh …” he whispered, retreating and thrusting again, a few centimeters at a time. “Relax, darlin’. Let me in.”
