Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
I’m vulnerable all over again.
He’s good at doing that to me.
There’s a shift in the air, and I know he’s moved away, the sound of clothing rustling about, and I know now that he is naked, too.
Chapter Twelve
I know he’s behind me before he ever touches me. That’s the thing about me with Damion. I feel him on some level that defies any reality I know with any other human being. I can’t even explain what that means, but if he’s close, I know. It’s like a tingling sensation, an awareness that reaches beyond the conscious being.
And right now, he’s so close I can feel the heat of his body, a moment later, the press of his cock to my hip. I swallow hard and hold my breath, waiting for what comes next. His hands settle on my waist, and his touch torments my nerve endings in the best of ways.
He leans in and draws in a breath as if he’s inhaling my scent, “Turn around.” There is this raw, achy need in the depths of his voice that radiates through me and has me twisting around to face him.
The minute I do, he’s right in front of me, his sculpted, naked body intimately framing mine. His fingers tangle into my hair, his grip rough, erotic. “I’m not going to spank you,” he says, “but, God, woman, I want to do every naughty thing you’ll let me do to you.”
I’m caught up in the moment, in the absolute intimacy between us right here and now, finally touching. “Do it,” I whisper.
“You have no idea how much I could take from you if you let me, so don’t let me. Not yet.” He pauses, his lashes lowering, as he murmurs, “Damn it.” And when he looks at me again, he says, “It’s going to kill me when I lose you,” before his mouth closes down over mine and he kisses me—no, he consumes me. This is not just a kiss at all. It’s tenderness, demand, passion, torment, and love, and the mood of push and pull is gone.
I don’t even try to tell him he doesn’t have to lose me, it doesn’t have to be that way. He’s not in the right headspace right now, and maybe, I’m not either. Besides, I’m touching him now, as I’ve wanted to touch him for what feels like a lifetime. Touching him everywhere, anywhere I can, and I am not shy about it. I wrap one hand around his thick erection. He groans with the impact, and the power I’ve wielded over him is a high I can’t explain. His hand grips mine over his erection as pumps into my grip, but grows quickly impatient.
He palms my backside and lifts me, my breasts molded to his chest, my legs wrapping his waist, and he walks to a large chair in the corner and sits down with me on top of him. I straddle him, his erection is between us, pressed to my belly, and the hunger we have for one another is dark and edgy. I can feel it cloaking us like a heavy blanket, pulling us together.
My hands land on his shoulders, and he catches a strand of my hair and twines it around his fingers, tugging lightly. “Come here.”
That’s the definition of power. To command me with a single strand of my own hair around his finger. It’s so very hot. I’m hot. I’m melting right here, on top of him. I ease forward, closer to the man who destroys me with a word and touch, sensations swirling in my belly, my nipples tight. “You’ve always been bossy.”
“And you’ve always loved to play with my toys.”
I laugh, and I love that I can be naked and aroused and still laugh with Damion. “Nothing has changed, I guess—”
I barely get the words out and he’s drinking me in again, kissing me with long, sensual strokes of his tongue before he murmurs, “I’ve needed to be inside you again for a lifetime it seems.”
I wet my lips and say, “Yes. Please.”
“Hmmm. I like that word—please. I’m going to make you say it again and often.”
He catches my waist and anchors me, while I reach for his cock and guide his erection where we both need him to be, pushing him against me, past the slick heat of my sex. He is big and hard, and he presses into me, deep, then deeper, the look on his face pure male satisfaction. I pant and take all of him, sliding down the hard length of him, taking every inch of him, and it feels oh, so good.
He feels so good.
My hands are back on his impressive shoulders, and our gazes collide, and I can only describe what we share as raw hunger and emotion. And for a moment or ten, I have no idea, we just stare at each other, but all of our past is there with us, all that has been and might be in the future. It’s complicated, and right as it is wrong. Because this little time out we’re sharing has nothing to do with sex, and yet everything to do with why we want each other to the point of addiction.