Chapter 9 #2
Now he was the one swearing. She could tell Damien was clamped on tightly to his control, easing himself deeper inside her one slow steely inch at a time.
It had been three years for him, and yet he held himself back, sweat beading on his forehead, shoulders straining, neck muscles bulging, corded sinew and throbbing veins.
She didn’t understand, couldn’t think why he didn’t just plunge inside her like they both wanted him to, and her fingers snaked past his waist and settled on his rock-hard backside. Slowly, slowly he filled her until she was squirming and aching and pleading with him. “Damien, please...”
But he ignored her, sucking on the swell of her breast above her nipple as he rested inside her, only half buried. “I’m savoring again, that’s all.”
Well, he needed to stop. Mandy grabbed his bum and shoved down, at the same time she rammed her hips up toward him.
She may not be as strong as him, but she had surprise and determination on her side.
The thrust sent them colliding together, and he filled her fully, stretching her sensitive muscles and giving rise to the speculation that maybe she could have another orgasm.
Bloody hell, that felt good.
Her body was taut everywhere, tingling and swollen, and she used her inner muscles to clench on to him, afraid he’d leave.
“Mandy, oh, damn, honey.” His eyes were closed, a shudder rolling over him.
She knew the feeling. But after a long drawn-out second that felt like half her life, Mandy started to worry that he wasn’t going to do anything. That he was just going to sit there in her, like a parked car.
He was a complex man, who clearly had some issues in a past relationship, and he had more willpower than she could ever hope for, but now wasn’t the time for him to be exercising it. It was time for him to let it go, to allow himself pleasure.
“Damien, darling, please pleasure me.”
He wanted to. God knew he wanted to. But Damien was afraid that if he moved, he would go careening into an orgasm that would embarrass the hell out of him.
He was afraid that if he let go, if he unleashed all the passion he’d been withholding for three years, that other, uglier emotions might rise along with it.
He was afraid that if he moved, and it was over, then it would be, well, over. This was it.
But Mandy’s soft, coaxing words nudged him out of his indecision.
The way she felt, wrapped around him, under him, her body open for his, hot and slick, and the way her lips parted on a pant and her eyes glazed over convinced him. He’d risk it.
With a groan, he pulled back as a precursor to gently sliding into her, but Mandy dug her nails into his ass and cried out, “No, don’t leave!”
Mandy did some female trick that had her muscles tightening, holding him in place like she refused to give his cock up.
His mouth went dry, blood thundering in his head, and he decided he didn’t give a damn about staying in control.
He’d already gone this far, he’d already let his body feel passion again, he might as well take it all the way.
He slammed into her and forced a groan out of both of them. Mandy’s eyes rolled back in her head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said through gritted teeth.
When he stroked again, he had to close his eyes. Jesus, she felt so good. So hot, so giving, so close around him, holding on and milking his cock with her tight body, agony and ecstasy intermingling in his mouth like a potent mixed drink. He felt drunk on pleasure.
“Fantastic,” she murmured, her heels kicking him in the backs of his thighs as he moved over her, and she made no attempt to meet his erratic rhythm.
Some strokes were quick and short, others slow and deep, and he didn’t know what in the hell he was doing, he just wanted to feel her every which way.
But he forced himself to rein back in, get a grip on himself, and he found a spot that felt just right, so perfect that he had to keep hitting it over and over.
Mandy seemed to like it, too, since it had him pressing against her clitoris, and she gripped the bedspread and gasped.
It spurred Damien on, made him pump harder, until he forced himself to an abrupt stop.
Legs trembling as he held himself on the edge of orgasm, sweat running down into his eyes, the dim room brighter, the sounds of the fan sharper as he hovered in the high of anticipation.
The sound of frustration she gave was nothing short of a scream. “What the hell are you doing?”
The outrage on her face made him chuckle, even as his body screamed its own protest with quivering jerks inside her. “I told you only two minutes. I think I went over.”
Her brown eyes went wide with shock. Then she pinched his waist, hard. “Oh, my God. Finish me now, Damien, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Oh, he would finish her. And himself in the process.
Bracing one hand on the wall over her head and the other on the bed, Damien gave one, two last strokes. As Mandy cried out and bucked behind him as she came, he let it all go and poured himself into her with a muffled roar.
He pulsed and throbbed on and on in a delicious surrender that sent a rapturous shudder through him. And when his moans trailed off and his legs relaxed and a great exhalation of air shot out of his lungs, Damien felt empty of everything for the first time in three years.
Anger, frustration, pain—it all washed away and he was just left feeling very, very satisfied.