AllFreeNovel
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I take a piece. And we eat like that, back and forth, until we’ve finished two slices. Then he pulls me off the countertop.
And I wonder why he’s doing all of this if he doesn’t date, doesn’t love, doesn’tdorelationships.
I sit next to him on the couch, with the fireplace on, our beers on the table.
“I like you in my clothes.” He eyes his shirt.
I look away. Sometimes, his stare is too intense for me to handle. “It smells like you, smells good. Damon... I had a good time today.”
He caresses my cheeks, saying nothing, staring at my lips. I lean in until our mouths touch, and it’s like both our worlds collide together as one. I feel something in the air since yesterday.
Something is different.
Maybe it’s him; maybe it’s me.
He nibbles on my bottom lip, then lightly and horizontally rubs his mouth over mine. When I try to reach in for another kiss, he pulls away, teasing me until I grasp onto his neck, moaning close to his mouth when he refuses to kiss me still.
I’m ready, ready for the next step with this man. I want him.
“Damon, I’m ready for more . . .”
A cold front zings through his eyes, and he takes my hand and leads me to the massive leather chair facing the fireplace.
He’s standing right in front of me, the fire blazing in the background, his stance even more powerful and intimidating than it was before.
At his command, I take off my jeans, leaving me in nothing but his T-shirt and Calvin Klein cotton undergarments.
He eyes my underwear with such curiosity, I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh.
“Never thought I’d find cotton sexy, but here you go again, defying all my rules.” He speaks low, his voice husky. The attention he gives to my body makes me blush all over.
“I like to sleep in my Calvins,” I tell him.
He walks behind me and palms my ass, then squeezes—hard. “You make Calvin look good, Gemma.”
I can’t see him, but I can feel him all over, removing my underwear, like a jolt of energy that buzzes over my whole being when he’s around.
As if our souls are connected, our bodies thirsty for each other.
My heart is beating so, so fast. He’s lifting my shirt, his fingers skirting my lower back, and then my spine.
My back arches.
He pushes the shirt up, higher and higher, expertly unclasping my bra. I remove it all—my bra, his shirt. I don’t wait for him to tell me.
I want in his bed. I want to be cherished by him tonight. I want him to make love to me or fuck me tonight, whichever he chooses.
“Any more tattoos?”
I shake my head. Only the rose on my finger.
“Do you have any?” I ask, looking behind me.
“I do,” he says without elaborating—too busy cherishing my inner thighs, touching them.
It feels amazing.
When he finally comes before me again, I take off his shirt. I’m so eager to touch him, to see all of him. I finger his throat, then his chest.
