Part 1
All it took was a swift intake of breath.
They were a powder keg, and that breath was the spark that ignited them.
In a single fluid motion, Damien’s hand gripped her at the waist, pinning her against the wall she had been leaning against, imprints of their bodies pressed into the mirror face. His mouth was on hers, consuming her in a kiss so fervent, deliberate, deep and desperate that neither one of them hardly had any time or space to breathe.
Damien was esculent. If a dream had a flavor, it would be his. He tasted smooth and sweet, like cream swirling in vanilla coffee, with a hint of salt, toasted oak, and ripe blackberries. He carried the essence of the wine from all those floors below, and she was already drunk on him.
He held her there against the wall, and Anne was perfectly content to be in that space. He added his other hand, his hands holding a section of her hip and ass, pulling her closer to him. That was where she wanted to be, and the feel of his erection against her waist only sent the excitement swelling.
Damien pulled back, glancing over his shoulder at the elevator doors, once again closed. Anne was breathless, buzzing with energy.
“You didn’t walk away.” His lips skimmed over hers, a teasing, anticipatory, but satisfied edge to his tone.
“I guess I didn’t,” she replied in uneven breaths, looking up at him.
Damien stepped back, hitting the button to open the doors again, but he did it without taking his eyes off of Anne for more than a split second. The doors opened, and they stepped out into the hallway, but his hand quickly found its way to her waist again, high up and almost on her breast, a friendlier touch, reminiscent of a certain photo in San Francisco, guiding her to the door to his room. He put his mouth to hers again, focusing his attention only on the kiss as he fumbled blindly for the room key. The door chirped.
“Are you inviting me in… officially?” she asked as Damien pushed the door open. She took his bottom lip between her teeth in a playful bite, and that sent a spark of pleasure down his body, emitting a sound that indicated a “yes.” He did the same to her, and she moaned into his mouth. He swept his tongue into hers. She received it eagerly, completely giving in to the rapidly intensifying desire filling her to the brim.
They stumbled inside, him trying to shimmy his suit jacket off as they moved. He dropped the jacket, letting it crumple into a heap on the floor, and only for a split second did he finally remember it was Tom Ford he had been wearing, and in that same moment, he realized he didn’t care. There was one thing he cared about: pleasing her, and then her pleasing him.
The room was dark, lit only from the glimmer of adjacent Miami skyscrapers, casting stripes of blue and gold light between the open blinds. With the jacket discarded, and a swift pull of the already-loosened tie sending it to the floor, his fingers frantically worked on the buttons of his waistcoat. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he breathed into her, “why did I wear this?”
Anne giggled, biting his bottom lip again. “Because you look delicious in it.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Delicious you say?” a wolfish grin crossing his features, nipping her bottom lip again.
She raked her fingers through his hair, sending the remainder of his carefully-combed hair into a frenzied mess of hair that now fell over his forehead. The last button was freed, allowing the vest to fall at their feet. “Now only six buttons to go,” she smiled into his kiss, dragging a hand down the soft cotton where the buttons met, unbuttoning them one by one, counting as she went with sensual taps of her fingers until she reached the part of his abdomen sitting right above the fastener of his slacks. She took the shirt in a handful, pulling it untucked with one swift movement, and then the palm of her hand was over his cock, stroking him softly with it.
His body was pleading for more. He was astronomically hard, and it was painful in the best way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this caliber of stiff. It had been too long since he’d felt a woman’s touch, by design, but he was so happy it was her touch to break his dry spell. He let the shirt fall away too, before taking her breasts in his hands over her shirt, savoring the way they filled his palms just right. Damien moved his mouth to her neck, kissing slowly down until he met the crook of it. He nuzzled her there gently, before biting. He shifted his hands to grip her ass, wanting to not leave a part of her undiscovered by his hands.
Her breath hitched at the sharp feeling of his teeth and stubble against her skin. God it felt good. One palm still rubbing him eagerly over his pants, the other one went to his torso, allowing her fingers to feel his chest hair between them. “Touch me,” she sighed, only one thing on her mind, her lips on his shoulder.
“Take your clothes off, and I will,” he said sternly in her ear, sliding his hands up underneath her blouse so he could unhitch her bra with a few clumsy moves. She pulled the shirt over her head, taking the bra with it, and allowing him full access to her breasts. Damien stepped back for a moment to admire her, wearing a dark and ravenous look as his eyes crawled up and down every curve and contour of her figure, eager to taste her.
She felt self conscious suddenly, never before having stood before a man like Damien—a man so gorgeous, so powerful, and so catastrophic to her. Her cheeks flushed shyly and she felt tempted to cover herself with her hands.
But licking his lips, Damien's eyes devoured her, the rest of him starving and parched for all of the delightful things she could bring him. He adored the beautiful way the moonlight and city outside painted a silhouette around her—a ring light highlighting every nook and cranny of the sensual curves of her body.
“God, you're beautiful,” he exhaled. It was a privilege to get to experience her this way. Then he greedily accepted her body as a gift, unwrapping her first by placing her breasts in his hands again, rubbing his thumbs gently over her nipples. Then he moved his lips to her breasts, suckling first one then the other, her nipples peaking under the attention of his tongue.
She moaned at the feeling of his hot mouth against her skin as it warred with the cool air of the room. Her flesh dimpled as his fingers held her breasts gently, and each wet line he drew with his tongue on them tingled as that same cold air teased her.
Her body burned for him, and his burned for her. His skin radiated heat, and she felt hers firmly spreading; fractals branching out from between her legs. The pressure was mounting and the need was heavy and molten, like a bag of pennies.
“Now your pants,” he ordered, standing up straight and staring down at her. A rakish grin spread across his face. “But leave the panties. I haven’t stopped dreaming about tearing them off of you myself.” His mouth covered hers again, devouring her in a kiss, biting and forceful, holding her head in his two hands as she unbuttoned her jeans, pushing them down her thighs. She would gladly wear her kiss-bruised lips tomorrow. Any bite or mark he made tonight would be a temporary tattoo of the way their bodies were about to fade together.
His hands left her face, both of them returning to her breasts, then, falling to his knees, let his mouth replace his hands, whorling his tongue over her skin. Then he put it to her sternum, kissing and licking his way down the soft flesh of her stomach until he reached her pantyline, where he stopped, moving his mouth along the hem before taking it between his teeth. He was close enough to her pussy now that he could feel the comfort of the humid salty heat, like a Caribbean morning. He could smell and almost taste her musky arousal for him—he was salivating. His desire was all-consuming; it was maddening. But he wanted to delay her gratification, to torture her just a little longer, the way he'd been made to wait for months to truly experience the pleasure of her company.
He inhaled deeply; a lung full of her. The breath was almost a growl—hungry and vicious.
Keep going, her mind screamed at him, fingers massaging his head as he toyed with her panties. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to taste her just like that, on his knees with his hands firmly on her ass. Please, “Please,” she exhaled, all she could manage, but instead of heeding her desperate thoughts instantly and as she wanted, he pushed her gently back onto the foot of the bed. She landed softly, and he pulled her pants the rest of the way off of her legs, unbuckling her sandals.
His arms encircled her thighs, yanking her further down until her lower half was nearly off the bed, her legs on his shoulders. His hands went to her breasts again, squeezing gently.
“Please,” she breathed again, propping herself on her elbows. “Touch me, Damien. You turn me on so much. Please. I need you.”
Oh, how he loved those words. He savored the way her voice sounded when she was brimming with want for him, but he wouldn’t concede to her just yet. He kissed her inner thighs, nipping as he moved slowly towards her pussy. There was a groan growing in her throat the closer he got, but then he skipped over, and moved to the other side, repeating his movements. She cried out in frustration, the anticipation killing her. Fugacious shivers followed everywhere his lips brushed her skin.
“Ask me again,” he commanded, taking a chunk of her inner thigh gently between his teeth. It was a gesture that in the morning would certainly be a flag he planted in the territory of her body.
“Please, I’m begging you,” she said, falling back against the sheets again, the groan growing louder as he went from biting her skin to rubbing his chin in tantalizing circles over her vulva. Droplets of her arousal slicked his skin even through the fabric. “Your stubble feels so good.” It was as breathy as a sigh.
Senses heightened, each coarse hair on his face scraping her skin was electrifying; she was so desperate to feel every sensation he could offer her body.
He changed his chin for his mouth, now tasting her desire through the underwear, teasing her. And oh God, did she taste delightful.
Feeling his mouth on her, she wriggled in towards him involuntarily. But the thin fabric separating them felt like a mile of distance.
“You’ve been expecting me, I see. You’re so, so wet,” he said gleefully, hooking a single finger into the crotch of her underwear and tugging down, dragging her panties halfway down her thighs, exposing her vulva to the air, to him.
“Do you want me to take them all the way off?” he asked darkly, his lips brushing the skin of her inner thighs, grazing and eyes never leaving hers. “And feel my tongue on this pretty pussy of yours?”
She groaned in reply. The rapid way his professionalism had melted into explicit promises made her so, so hot.
He put his mouth just an inch from where the fabric of her panties sat against her thigh, again sucking and biting and branding himself on her skin, like it was the deed to her body. He breathed in the scent of her skin, of her arousal, of the lust radiating from her like a perfume.
Then he sat back on his haunches, pulling the underwear off of her one leg at a time. He rubbed his hands up her inner thighs, pushing her legs further apart. He wanted access to every inch of her figure.
Her body was beautiful to him, even more so spread wide for him for imminent consumption—pink, and wet, soft, and swollen for him. The sight of her like that, legs unfolded before him like newly metamorphosed butterfly wings with her teeth biting down on the finger in her mouth, set a match to something fierce and primal within him, even more so than it had moments before. It was a need gone nitrous in his blood.
“Yes,” she whispered in need.
“Good girl. You look divine.”
Her heart did a flip, his eyes staring up at her from between her legs, his big hands holding them apart. The dirty talk was sending her arousal to a whole different plane. “Please,” she begged. His taunting was agonizing.
“I'm not convinced,” he said in an over-dramatic pout. “It doesn’t really sound like you want my fingers inside you.”
The pad of his thumb brushed over the hood of her clit, a gesture almost imperceptibly feather light, but it was contact titillating enough to make her gasp, to leave her whimpering in need.
“Now ask me again,” he ordered. His voice, like the caress of his touches, was soft but stern; controlling. His eyes simmered.
“Please, Damien, I need you,” she implored. “I can’t stand it. I need your—”
He gave into her pleas, and put his mouth where he knew would make her squirm. Squirm she did, a sigh of relief and moan of great pleasure escaping her as his tongue went hungrily to her body, hot and wet and burning for him. He tasted her now, truly indulged in the buttery, salty sweet, exquisite way her body tasted. To him, a succulent indulgence like paddlefish caviar and the slightest drizzle of honey. She rolled more into him, her hands in his hair and his arms soundly wrapped around her thighs as she tried to guide him to the right spot, her ankles hooking together behind his head. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to captivate her, to hold her in the spell of the pleasure he could give her—so he drew on every morsel of rede he’d ever received. His mouth didn’t stop, swirling his tongue, sucking at her clit until her whimpers of pleasure became breathy moans of “Oh God, yes” that he would fantasize about for years to come.
I owe whoever taught him what to do an Edible Arrangement, she thought, giddy and lost in the feelings, centering her focus on the pleasure he was giving her to maybe, just maybe, get to the finish line. Each stroke of his tongue was like hot satin. Each bit of her aching pussy, aching body absorbed Damien.
Their eyes would connect from time to time, and there was a pleased smile in them, enjoying the ways in which each passing moment brought her into the fold of his control over her pleasure.
He added his fingers into her, curling first one and then two inside her, wanting her more than ready for him. The moan that left her mouth had come from deep in her chest. He played her like she was an instrument that had been hidden away and had strings that needed to be taut. He played her patiently and rhythmically, reveling in the way she moaned for him. Before long her body arched, one of her hands flying up over her head to grip whatever pillow was closest, and her other remained to clench handfuls of his hair. By then, all control of her movements had been surrendered to basic reflex, it was involuntary and only served to help her experience him.
“Slower… right there,” she whimpered, “right there, Damien. Don’t stop.”
Where they pooled around her lower back, the bedsheets were hot and increasingly damp with her sweat as Damien’s fingers and tongue called her closer; enthralled her and wound her up.
Erik’s hustles and extracurriculars had provided him many opportunities to give Damien bits of quality advice over the years, much of which came after Damien’s last serious partner. The always reinforced were, “Listen to what she’s telling you and do what she tells you. Don’t be afraid to ask her what she likes and tell her what you like. If and when she starts saying ‘right there’ or ‘don’t stop’ or ‘just like that,’ or something similar… she means it. Don’t speed up. Don’t add force. It means keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t. Change. Shit.”
And so Damien obeyed, staying exactly as he was—keeping the same rhythm, pressure, and movements. One arm held her down, pressing firmly against her abdomen, while the other worked her from within. He devoured her with the hunger of a man starved, relentless until her legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer. Her body tightened around him like she was a python. While he recognized he wasn’t exactly an expert in the ways of her body—not yet anyway—he saw veracity in her pleasure. It was in the way she turned her face into the arm gripping the pillow, biting her bicep. It was in the way that, even in the dark of the room, he could see her chest had flushed and taken on color. It was in the way her other hand left his hair to grip and push down handfuls of the bed sheets. It was in the way he felt her grip his fingers inside her, curling into her, as he molded her like putty.
“R-r-right there,” she stammered, repeating it louder and more rapidly in shallow breaths, the pitch of her voice climbing higher and higher. “I’m so c-c-c-close.”
Good, he thought, delighted, feeling his own body harden still at those words slipping from her. But he was feeling diabolical, waiting until she was right on the edge. She took a deep breath, pulling harder on the sheets, and that was his cue.
I don't think so.
“I'm gonna co—”
He stopped, pulling out his fingers and releasing his mouth, the cusp of her climax glistening on his lips and cheeks and chin.
She growled loudly in frustration again, and one look at the man between her legs with a wicked grin told her he was enjoying the way he deprived her—and that in turn delighted her, the throb returning as she watched him lick his fingers one by one like she was icing without breaking eye contact.
She felt her stomach plummet.
He yanked her closer again, standing and pulling her up with him. One of his hands encircled her wrist, just tight enough to feel her pulse against his palm, holding her close to him. It fluttered beneath her skin, a metronome of her excitement.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll let you come soon. But you are the one who has to behave.” He kissed her mouth, greedy to taste her again, teeth holding her bottom lip. She could taste herself on him, but what she desperately wanted to play with was the erection pressing against her and taste that instead. She did play, and it wasn't just rubbing now. She held as much of the fabric-obscured hardened cock in her palm as she could, squeezing him in her half strokes.
Tuned into her thoughts, the flex of her fingers, and his own steeping desire, he bit her neck again before he spoke, eliciting a gasp. He tossed a pillow at her feet. “On your knees,” he demanded quietly, forcefully. She obeyed, following the same route he had taken on her. She slowly, blindly licked and kissed her way down his body, her hands sliding down his sides as she went, hooking into his waistband and encouraging them lower down his hips. Resting at eye level with his crotch, she traced her tongue and kissed along the outside of his pants where his erection was straining against the fabric.
In a swift, practiced motion, he whipped his belt off and unsnapped his pants. He pulled them down just enough to set his cock free. “Open your mouth,” he said in that commanding whisper again. She did as she was told, and he placed the head of his cock right on her lips. Then she took him in, encircling it with her mouth, moving slowly at first along his length then picking up speed. He groaned loudly. “Good girl,” he rasped again.
God, she feels warm and ahhhh, his thought got interrupted by whatever it was she had just done with her tongue. He steadied himself and held her hair out of her face as she moved up and down over his cock, that slurping sound he missed so much, that he loved so much, was music to his ears. “Can you feel how hard you’ve made me? Fuck, you feel good,” he said, and felt her smile around him. She pulled her mouth away from him now, a thick bridge of saliva stringing the head of his penis to her lips. He filled her mouth again, pulling his pants down farther.
He moaned, enjoying the way her eyes lifted to his face, gazing up at him with a coy, naughty smile, happy to be there pleasing him. “I love the way you look with my cock in your mouth. You look so perfect. So beautiful. Now use your hands.”
Her hands went to where his front curved into his sides, and she scored her fingers down his skin. It stung in the best way. Her right hand moved from his thigh, where it had come to rest after pulling down his body and curled around his shaft, pulling back on his sheath, offering the entirety of the tip of him to her mouth. She, too, loved the earthy and salty way he tasted.
He let her play with his body—going at her own pace—swirling and cradling his cock with her tongue. Her right hand pulled and pushed along his length at the same speed as her mouth moved along him, while her left thumb and finger gripped him tightly around his base, his balls in her palm, a technique new to him but intensely erotic. She knew what she was doing—massaging him in all the right places with both fingertips and tongue as she, too, read the ways of his body responding to her pleasuring him.
As she ran her tongue slowly along the underside of his shaft and painted a ring around the crown, he hissed a string of expletives in delight. He closed his eyes, heightening bliss filling his body like the heat and comfort of fresh tea in the chill of winter. Each one of her wet, long strokes along him magnified the tension mounting inside him—begging for beautiful release. His long wait for a woman had him accelerating towards his end, hot and aggressive, like the Saturn V. He desperately wanted to let go, to watch his cum spatter across her tongue, but knew he needed to hold off. He still needed his appetite for the main course.
He took her gently under the chin, easing her mouth off of him with the slightest push. Understanding, she pulled her mouth away, allowing her hand to keep moving as she smiled, streams of drool dribbling from the corners of her mouth. He escorted her to her feet again, spinning her around so she was pressed against him. She shivered, weak in the knees as his one hand cupped her between her legs and his teeth bit her shoulder, his other arm holding her against him at the breasts. His palm was slick with her arousal, applying exhilarating pressure to her aching and swollen vulva. She reached behind her, her hand finding his cock for another firm squeeze. He grunted as she did, and let the tip of his tongue pirouette up her neck.
“Good girl,” he whispered in her ear, and she felt her knees weaken again at the low throaty way the words left him. His breath tickled her, caressing the fine hairs on her earlobe, shooting goosebumps across every square inch of her skin. “I like this naughty version of you, you filthy girl.”
Pressing his hand deeper between her legs, he needed to kiss her again. He did, voracious and fervent, with a quick turn of her head towards him.
“I want all of you,” she said in between breaths. “I want to feel all of you inside me. I’ve been fantasizing about this all day.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice, not this time. He no longer had the willpower, or desire, to resist her. He kicked off his shoes and pants, pulling her into bed with him. They grappled for a moment before he took his place on top, kissing her with desperation swelling within him again. He pinned her hands above her head, staring into her eyes. Both of their eyes were dark and dripping with swelling lust, like starving waves of the North Sea.
Damien nudged open her legs, positioning himself between them. Hooking his arm under her thigh, he ground his hips into her, his cock teasing her. She gazed into his eyes, wide with need and biting her lip. There was a whine in the back of her throat. He could hear it. He wasn’t sure if he could actually get physically harder, but it sure felt like he did, his erection quivering against her body. His teeth traced along her neck, right under her jaw, and then he put his whole mouth against her skin, sucking. He wanted to mark her; she was his tonight. He left more evidence of himself aggressively along her neck as he ground into her.
She felt every place he touched sizzle on her skin like glitter.
He needed to feel himself inside her the same way he needed air. But he also hoped she knew that she meant more to him than just a pussy for him to conquer.
She knew.
It was truly a shared desire that could have incinerated them both in that moment.
“Are you on birth control?” he asked quickly, the question dawning on him as he poised the head of his cock just outside of her body. His cock already shined, slick with her saliva and his precum, only needing her body to perfect the sheen of sex and arousal.
“Yes,” she said, her voice small but sincere, grinding her hips against in a vain, impatient attempt to bring him into her.
“And is this what you want?" His voice dipped, low, gravely, and crisp, spilling over with every ounce of his wanton need. “Do you want me inside you? Just me. To fuck you the way you deserve.”
She gave an enthusiastic nod, swallowing hard.
“Yes, sir,” she husked demurely, needing to feel him in his entirety, “please take me.”
So he did. With a bite of her neck as company, he pushed into her with a single firm movement of his hips.
There it was: that feeling especially unrivaled for new lovers where two whole entities blended into something new, her gasping and he groaning as he first filled her. It was a feeling of simultaneous pressure releasing and one intensifying. She had been so wet and ready for him, it was an easy glide with no resistance. So effortless, it felt more like she had taken him and not the other way around. He began slowly and languidly for her, allowing her to adjust before speeding into a comfortably eager rhythm.
She felt him complete her, full and deep, concatenating them in an act so red hot that they were the envy of the sun.
Damien felt himself melt into her, a frenzied and carnal connection that transcended the simple physical way their bodies collided with each other. It was in the way their breathing became synchronized, the way their scents and sweat mixed. The way he knew he wouldn’t ever be properly sated kissing her. He would never be totally satisfied fucking her. He wanted to hold her and not let go. The seal had been broken. He knew he would need to ravish her again and again.
He held her head with one hand, his forehead against hers, kissing as he thrust into her with the intensity of months of sexual tension between them. Her legs had wrapped around him, just as he’d fantasized, gripping the breadth of his back with her whole arms so hard he was nearly certain he would have his own bruises in the morning.
She cried out each time their bodies met, pleasure ascending, seeping out of her, crescendoing with every wordless frisson that left her lips. Her body responded to Damien’s in a way where she too knew she would need more and more of him, of the way he already understood the needs of her body. There was a scream of ecstasy building inside her, her body tightening with each of his confident thrusts.
His gaze burned into her eyes, each moaning louder as their bodies rocked together. “You feel so good,” he growled in her ear again and again. So good. “So tight. Oh, you good girl. Fuck. Fuck.”
Being inside her was like swimming in the comfort of soft, hot velvet.
“Harder,” she begged, and he did as he was asked, her hand drifting between the two of them to aid her, and he kissed the side of her face again and again.
He added his hand to hers, allowing him to feel the way she helped herself, the ways her fingers played over her clit as he filled her with welcome force.
His brain began to get foggy as his own orgasm rapidly began to descend on him.
Somewhere amongst the haze of his lust, he heard her again say, “Right there, don’t stop.” He was happy to oblige, feeling her tighten around his cock. The way she squeezed him sent him into a feral state.
“Look at me. Let me see your eyes,” he demanded of her, and she obeyed. Her eyes meeting his reaffirmed his need to be the one to bring her to the euphoric finish line. He was a wildfire, burning, desperate to take her with him in the blaze.
Again, she began to whisper how close she was. “Oh, God. Don’t stop, Damien. I’m so close. So close. So close. Please let me come.” Anne was crying out in ecstacy, centering herself and guiding herself towards orgasm, her core muscles engaged and tight as her body tried to get closer to him. She narrowed her focus to a single pinpoint in time, steadying her mind and breath as she urged herself to trust Damien with her vulnerability. Both hands had returned to touching only him, pressing against his chest, fingers splayed across his pecs, buried in the hair on his chest. His earlier deprivation had an intense orgasm barreling towards her with the speed and force of a bullet train. And she was a sedan willfully stalled and straddling the steel rails.
“Look. At. Me,” he ordered, his voice low and smooth like melted butter. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to keep them open, but did. He firmly, gently grabbed her by the jaw to keep her head from turning. “Don’t you dare look away. I want you to look at me when you come.”
And then her arms left his body, one returning to between her legs to help him pleasure her across the finish line. The other one gripped the sheets, pulling at least one corner of the bed off. She was hyperventilating, and then… had she stopped breathing entirely? Oh, she had. Le petite mort indeed.
Is this real? he thought again, waiting for breath to return to her lungs. Fuck. That’s it. Finish her. Take her over the crest.
He channeled his focus into doing just that, her arms rigid and stiff clenching the linens with white knuckles as he plowed into her.
“That's my good girl. You can let go, just go right over that edge. You're safe with me.”
Damien’s body was against her, skin-to-skin in his movement. Her chin firmly in his grip, his eyes held her ever-muddying gaze as she continued to tense beneath him, but she never looked away.
His name was on her lips, but it fell off after the first syllable. Slowing her breath, tighter and tighter her body became; almost unbearable.
Damien couldn’t falter now, nor change his movements, so put all he could into filling her—pushing through the pleasure-inducing vice grip her pussy had on his cock—his consistent force ushering her right to the edge.
A sharp, deep inhale. A suspension of breath.
An incoherent, animalistic ululation left her, her body flushing with heat. The cords in her neck strained, her body bowing into him, her one hand snapping to cover her mouth to muffle the cry that had built up in her, finally set free. Her legs had clenched his sides, but she could feel the way the pulsing of her orgasm gripped him inside her as it rocketed through her body. She had left solid ground behind—it had launched her to land somewhere on cloud nine. She felt his sturdy arms hold her tight, his teeth on her neck, his continued thrusting, only their slick skin separating them, as the throes of her orgasm rocked her. Were her toes curled? She tingled all over and felt weightless, her head feeling light and airy. Her heart hammered, a ringing in her ears, sparklers incandescing behind her eyes.
Holy shit, she thought through the incapacitating pleasure eddying in her brain and trickling to every nerve ending, he actually made me come, and come really fucking hard. He actually did it.
Damien owed Erik a beer. Scratch that, a whole fucking guitar.
Grinning, Damien pulled out, delighting in the hot, invigorating feeling of triumph. He dropped himself between her legs again to taste the way he had made her come. She tasted even better than she had before.
Overstimulated, she cried out as every follicle of his scruff dragged pleasure up her pussy. He painted circles with his tongue, moaning as he enjoyed her taste.
“I know it's a lot, Baby, I know…”
Getting some air before working her body again.
“...but you can work through it, I know you can.”
His mouth sucked and swirled at the same time, sucking her harder. Higher. Higher. Another crest within reach.
She writhed, gasping for air, clenching handfuls of his hair as he devoured his handiwork, his fingers sinking into the flesh of her thighs, holding her against him. She rolled headlong into another orgasm, spasming and not even recovered from the first one, unable to form any words except for the ecstatic moan falling from her lips. Her legs trembled in his grasp, involuntary twitches as she surrendered control. Her delight was hot and melting like wax. She felt like she was floating—out of her body. She wouldn’t have been able to stand even if she wanted to.
That's a first, she thought weakly, gratified, her mind a painting of bliss and vibrant swirls of watercolor. Even on her own she was mostly a one-and-done. But now, with Damien at the helm of her body… Not just once, but twice? Twice.
Twice? he asked himself, pleased with his success.
Desperately gulping in air, she pulled him up to her level again, touching his face tenderly. She kissed him fiercely, a warmth of companionship blooming inside her. “It’s your turn,” she whispered, guiding his cock back to the entrance of her body. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
She nodded, her eyes pleading with him. She took one of his hands, interlocking their fingers and holding him tight. “Finish for me,” she urged, her voice sweet and rich, hot and sticky like fresh molasses.
In that moment, vulnerable beneath him with her flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, speckled with his sweat and markings of his lust, and the way she grasped his hand, he would have done anything for her. He would have killed for her, so being asked only to bury himself deeply in her again was an act he was more than happy to oblige in. He slipped in one more time, another gasp escaping her as he did, resuming his eager pace. With her satisfied, he focused only on reaching his ending. It didn’t take long. He felt it like a brakeless tractor trailer with no runaway ramp in sight, and he embraced it eagerly.
She clung to him tightly, tasting the salt of his sweat on her tongue and feeling the heat of him against her like a raging furnace.
He was breathing heavily into her shoulder, in guttural moans saying, “Yes, yes, yes, God, yes.” The fingers of her other hand were in his hair, strands slicked with sweat, holding him. Her own moans inevitably resumed as he pushed into her. She kissed him as he regained momentum, moaning her own pleasure at the same time, clenching around him in a tempo that aided him along. His hot breath tickled her neck, his forehead placed against hers in an intimate link. He found the right spot and pace for him, and within moments he was the one saying, “God, right there,” in incoherent mumbles. But their bodies were tuned into one another, radio and receiver, and she didn’t need to make sense of his words to know what he wanted, what he needed.
“Come, Damien,” she whispered in his ear as she felt him get close, his body filling with tension with each stroke.
Those two words allowed him to unravel.
It hit him, unable to fight it anymore. With her permission, he let go, months of frustration and fantasies dissipating in an instant—the relief in the way an electric charge diffuses.
The sound he made, a liquid and throaty growl in her ear, was far beyond what her most intimate imaginations had concocted of such a moment. She moaned quietly again at the feeling of his cum filling her, and he stayed there for a moment, panting and catching his breath, hot in the space between her neck and shoulder, and her in his. She relished the feeling of his weight on hers, the way he kissed her with reckless abandon, the anodyne of shared endorphins, before he pulled out and collapsed next to her.
His chest was heaving, his arm thrown above his head and resting on his forehead, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, utterly spent. Slivers of ambient light shimmered on their sweaty skin, carved into their bodies like sensual will-o’-the-wisps. Neither of them said a word; anything that needed to be said had been done instead. But before long he had curled around her, and she curled into him, unable to keep himself from her and already craving the warmth of her body against his, leaving not even air between their bodies. Intertwined, he took her hand in his own. He kissed her knuckles, then her mouth, and then her forehead. Their bodies were slick with each other’s sweat, their hearts beating rapidly as one until they petered out. They fit together beautifully, lock and key, him nuzzling into her neck, each of them smelling of pleasure and sex, salty ocean air, and each other. Cocktails of dopamine and oxytocin and prolactin flooded their systems like a soporific tsunami, hard and violent. They rode the crest of the high, yet simultaneously sank into the depths, drowning together in the overwhelming sensations of shared pleasure.
She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a storm of feelings—elation, fear, wonder. His were tender and reverent. “Damien, what have we done?” Her voice was a whisper, laden with desire and concern, the implications of their actions dawning on her as the adrenaline began to wane into sleep.
Her fingers brushed his lips, then she laid her mouth over his for a final taste of his kiss. She wanted to say more, but simply had no energy left to spare. If anything, she almost wanted to cry. It wasn’t just the flood of chemicals. It was the way he touched her, the way their bodies had melded together as if he were the laces and she were the eyelets. She felt the sex had been not just libidinous and feral, but also beautiful. It had been a necessary act of connection and creation with equal ability to destroy them.
He didn’t have an answer, not one that could solve the complexity of the situation they had let unfold between them. He accepted her mouth in a kiss eagerly again, something deep, sloppy and tired and dripping with passion. He kissed her forehead, then her shoulder, breathing her in.
“Tomorrow’s worries can wait until the sun rises,” he whispered back at her.
After a long pause, she began to move out of the bed, but instead he held her tightly; he wanted her to feel safe, and feel she was more than simply a one-night comfort to him. She was the feeling of his past life cannoning into his present one. “Please stay,” he asked of her.
She hesitated at the gentle resistance of the way he held her back, keeping her from slipping out of the bed, out of the room, and away from him. There it was again—that strange, heavy feeling, the way fear and sadness lodged in her throat like a stone. But she gave in, letting herself tenderly intertwine with Damien.
Grogginess rapidly began to close in around him, dragging him under like he had weights tied to his consciousness. He pulled a sheet over the two of them. It settled, cool against their feverish skin. She nestled herself further into him, his body hot and smooth but sturdy, like well-worn river rocks in the sun. Their breathing slowed, synchronous, deep, and within moments they both drifted into oblivion, wrapped in each other.