“For years,” he murmured into my ear, “I’ve stroked myself and made myself come by just imagining being with you like this.”
My breathing became erratic.
“You have?”
“Hell yeah,” he growled. “I remembered what it was like to touch you, taste you, to feel you wrapped around me so tight. I came hard every single time.”
The thought of watching him touching himself sent another wave of heat through me.
“Is it true?” I suddenly asked. “What you said last week, about not touchin’ or kissin’ anyone since you last touched and kissed me?”
I haven’t touched another woman since I touched you. I haven’t kissed another woman since I kissed you.
“Every word,” Damien answered, his tongue flicking against my earlobe. “You’ve ruined me for any other woman. You’re the only one I ever want to touch again. I told you … you’re my freckles.”
I cried out when his finger finally rubbed my clit.
“Yes!” I screeched. “Yes!”
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
Lips brushed against my cheek, then not a second later, they covered my own, and just like that, I was lost in Damien’s touch and taste. I loved kissing him. I once pretended that I never enjoyed the kisses I had once shared with him, just so I would never think about them, but kissing him now, I realised what an idiot I was to try to fool myself into thinking they weren’t enjoyable.
They were toe curling.
“Can I taste you?” he asked against my lips. “Please, say yes.”
“You already are.”
“No.” He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “Not your mouth, your pussy.”
He slipped his finger inside my pussy just as I clenched over his words, and he growled.
“You want me to,” he mused. “You want my tongue on you.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, please.”
He moved then, and before I could move, the blanket was pushed to the end of the bed, and my trousers and underwear were pulled down my body and flung God only knows where in the room. Hands pressed against my knees and parted my thighs wide. I jolted with surprised when lips pressed against the inside of my thighs and slowly worked their way upwards. My eyelids fluttered shut when Damien’s hands slid over my body, squeezing my flesh here and there. I moaned softly when he trailed kisses inside my thighs, his teeth nipping my skin every few seconds, making me clench with excitement.
My body bucked of its own accord when I suddenly felt his warm, wet tongue slide over my sensitive folds. I sucked in a sharp breath because I hadn’t felt that sensation since Damien last put his mouth on me all those years ago. When I had sex with Dante, it was just sex—no oral, no kissing. Those acts were too intimate, too special to me, and I realised then that I only wanted to share that kind of connection with Damien.
No one else, just him.
He hummed against me, then licked up and down. He didn’t directly touch my throbbing clit that ached so much I ground my teeth together. I fisted my hands at my side and focused on my breathing. My eyes crossed when he tongued around the hood of my clit, teasing me, drawing long moans from my lips. He moved his attention and skilled tongue to my labia and sucked on my lips before dipping his tongue inside me.
“Damien!”
He sucked on my pussy lips and even scraped his teeth over them, sending a shiver up my spine. He moved his tongue upwards, and finally, I felt hot air on my clit, followed by his talented tongue lapping at it like a man starved.
“Fu…ck … God!”
Damien hooked his arms around my thighs and flattened his hands on my stomach, applying pressure to keep my arse on the mattress. He inhaled a deep breath, then curled his tongue around my clit slowly. It felt so good that it almost hurt, but that didn’t deter me from begging him not to stop. I pulsed with need, and the urge to reach down and fist my hands into Damien’s thick hair became difficult to ignore. My fingers flexed against my bed sheets.
Breathe, I told myself. Just keep breathing.
My body twitched and jerked like a live wire with every swipe and flick of Damien’s tongue. My flesh was flushed with desire, and my skin burned with need. The passion I felt was as intense as it was intoxicating. This brief escape from reality was just what I needed, and Damien was just the man I wanted—no, the man I needed to give it to me.
“Damien,” I pleaded. “Don’t st-stop.”
His hands flexed against my stomach in response.
Jolts of pleasure became more constant then, and with an abundance of attention focused on my clit, my orgasm built at a rapid pace. My breathing suddenly became irregular, and I couldn’t focus on anything except how good I felt. I began to lose myself to Damien’s touch, and I didn’t resist; I threw myself over the edge.
My thighs began to quiver like jelly, so much so that Damien used his hands to grip the insides of my thighs to keep them from knocking against his head as he tongued me. With his hands’ new position, he pushed my legs farther apart, and it pushed my pussy harder against Damien’s mouth. At that moment, I lost my fight against the urge to bury my hands in his hair, and the second I did that, he sucked my clit into his mouth, and my body began to convulse.
I screamed God’s name before I drew in a sharp breath and held it.
For a moment, I felt a split second of numbness before an inexplicable wave of bliss started at my clit and, with each pulse, pushed the sensation outward. My eyes rolled back, my spine arched, and my lips parted in a silent scream. My lungs burned for air, so I exhaled the breath I had been holding before greedily gulping more down. My body continued to jerk uncontrollably, and Damien still sucked and lapped at my now oversensitive clit as if he was trying to pull another orgasm from me.
When I began to whimper, I think he knew that I couldn’t handle any more because he released my clit, placed a chaste kiss on it, then moved up my body. I felt his hands all over me; I felt his lips kissing my thighs, my hips, my stomach, and any other section of skin his lips could reach. By the time he reached my lips, I was halfway asleep, my body completely depleted of energy.
“Good night, freckles.” Damien chuckled, brushing his lips against mine. “Sweet dreams.”
The last thing I was aware of wasn’t Damien beside me or how satisfied I was, it was how content I felt. It seeped deep into my bones and wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time, and I prayed there was no end in sight for it.
When I awoke, it wasn’t because my body decided it was ready to, it was because something was digging into my behind that made me uncomfortable. When I opened my eyes, I intended to feel for the object I’d accidentally left on my bed, but the second a soft snore echoed in my ear and someone’s hot breath blew over my neck, I knew it wasn’t an object that dug into me. It was a body part.
The night before came rushing back to me in seconds.
I smiled ridiculously wide as I shifted ever so slightly, and the arm hooked around me tightened. I bit down on my lower lip when a hand flexed around my left breast. I looked down and saw that Damien had put his hand up my pyjama top and grabbed himself a handful of my breast. I resisted the urge to laugh because it felt like such a male thing for him to do, even in his sleep.
He continued to snore, and I was so pleased to find that it wasn’t loud or distracting, but oddly relaxing to hear. I slowly turned to face him, his hand fell away from my breast, but remained around my waist. I swallowed when I realised I was naked from the waist down, and the reason made my stomach tighten. I recalled what Damien did to me the night before, and heat ran through me.