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“Why?” A smoky cloud releases between our faces, covering his striking features.
“I prefer control.”
“Well, Damon, I prefer losing it.” I inhale more weed before using my thumb to coax the side of his mouth to open. As soon as it does, I exhale inside his mouth. “Stay tonight, please.”
“I don’t have my stuff—”
“You can grab it tomorrow morning,” I plead with him, hoping he bites.
I watch as a flicker of want and fear crosses his eyes, watching me like his days start and end with me. Then,surprisingly, he pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text to someone.
“Okay, Gemma. What do you want to do?”
I shrug, sitting on the bed, feeling a soft echo of calmness pass over me. I’m at peace. The sadness from this morning is dissipating with every hit. “Watch Harry Potter?”
He snickers, and shoves a hand on his hip. “What’s in it for me, little rebel?”
I eye the bulge overwhelmingly present at the front of his pants. When my eyes finally meet his, shivers trample down my spine at his brooding stare.
“My mouth.” I bite my lip, lying down on the bed.
I love that he’s game for anything tonight. I love him even more when he takes the joint between my fingers for a hit.
Damon’s the devil incarnate. The devil every mother warns you about and every father loads their gun for. There’s nothing but lust and sin reflecting through his eyes.
And something else there—something else I never seem to catch.
He can wear suits and expensive watches. It doesn’t matter. It can’t hide the sinful interior, the one that has girls squirming in their beds at night.
“What about your mouth?” He dips his thumb over my throat, taking one last toke of the joint.
I swallow. “You can ... fuck my mouth.” My heart hammers against my chest.
“Hmm, is that so?”
I smoke some more, letting the sensation overtake me.
This is life.
Being here with Damon, high, with no other cares in the world.
It’s life.
“There’s more . . .”
“More?” He looks up, as if he likes the way it tastes on his lips. “Do tell.” His hand roams down my waist, tightening its hold around my thigh.
I suck in a breath, bracing for impact. “You have your belt tied around my neck.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Gemma.” His stare intensifies as he searches back and forth between my eyes, seeking the validity of my comment. “Give a man a warning.”
“Do you want the rest?” I ask him, taking a few more puffs. When he says no, I reach my night table and crush the joint against a magazine.
He’ll sleep in my bed tonight—with me. It’s as if I’m traveling around the sun. I’m freed and happy and stupidly in love with a man who might never want me that way.
I get up from the bed and remove all my clothes, fire surrounding me. When his eyes scrutinize my body, I feel the heat following his every movement.
I put on my long red T-shirt with nothing underneath.
