Chapter 5 #3
“This isn’t forgiveness,” I say. “This is me choosing what happens next.”
I wait for his nod, to make sure he understands, and when I get it, I tilt my head. “If I kiss you—”
“There’s no pretending this is casual,” he finishes.
“Good,” I murmur. “I don’t do casual.”
That does it. I close the distance. The kiss is slow.
Deep. Intentional. He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t take.
He follows me. When my hands slide into his hair, his grip tightens on my waist. We kiss some more and with each touch our control slips.
My thoughts dissolve, become incoherent, when he presses his body against mine and runs his nose, followed by his tongue, along my neck.
A soft moan slips out before I can stop it.
“Is this okay?” He nips at the tender skin below my ear, and I like it. The scrape of his teeth.
“Yes,” I breathe, then ask, “Are we stupid? Am I stupid for doing this? After everything that’s happened?”
“It’s not dumb. You and me together. Not stupid.
Don’t you know,” he whispers in a hoarse rasp against my skin.
“Don’t you understand that I’d do anything for you?
Give you anything, everything, you want?
” He’s kissing my neck now, biting and sucking, and my legs go weak.
My hands come up around his shoulders as I hold on.
His lips find their way to mine, and he slides his tongue into my mouth and swirls it around as arousal floods my body, as moisture pools between my legs.
I whimper into it, his mouth, because I’ve never been kissed like this before.
With such passion, such feral, fierce concentration.
Like I’m the only thing that matters in Damian Salvanti’s entire world.
“We need to change, you and I,” he says, saying words that I just thought in my head while I waited upstairs in my apartment.
His lips are on the move again, dragging down my jaw.
Tracing the contours of my neck. “We’ve been living shut off.
From each other. From the world.” His hands slide under the hem of my sweater, thumbs running in small circles over my ribs.
“We almost died tonight. It’s not fair to keep hiding.
The world deserves you, Hannah. You’re a gift. The most beautiful person I know.”
His hands have reached my breasts now. They run over the top of my bra. He rubs my nipples through the thin fabric, and my pelvis instinctively moves, grinding against his thigh. He groans, his breathing ragged, and pushes his leg higher into the apex of my legs.
“Yes,” he whispers, his voice a deep rasp. “That’s it. Use me. Ride me.”
He pinches my nipple harder, and I cry out, my breath coming in sharp gasps. I grind down on his leg. Shamelessly rubbing myself against him.
Damian grips my waist with one hand and lifts me, setting me on his strong thigh so my whole weight is on him now.
My skirt rides up so there’s only the thin satin of my now-soaking panties and the rough fabric of his pants between us, but I like it.
I like the pull, the drag, of his pants on my pussy.
I rock my hips faster as he pushes my bra aside.
When his warm, rough fingertips meet my bare nipple, stars explode behind my closed eyes.
“Oh my god,” I moan, rocking my hip. “I can come like this. With just your hand on my breast and your leg under me.”
“Not yet.” He lifts me by the waist and moves me to the table, where my flowers and candy are. He sets me down by it and pulls back. “You said you missed sex. Earlier in the car. I do too. I want—” His words stall, stutter, start back up. “I want to have sex with you. Now. Here. Is that all right?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant, pulling him closer, kissing him as my body hums in agreement. I let out a surprised gasp as he flips me around, so my back is to him, and gently pushes me forward until my elbows are braced on the table.
Damian slips my panties off gently, one leg at a time.
Then his hands are between my legs, rubbing into the heat and wetness there.
I push into his hand, gasping when his fingers enter me, then moaning when they move deeper.
He stimulates me, finger fucks me until my legs tremble, until I’m on the brink of orgasm, and then he takes one step away.
I’m about to protest, but there’s the rip of a condom and he’s back, poised at my entrance.
“You’re sure?” he asks one more time.
“Yes,” I breathe, the word breaking apart on my tongue. “Please. Want you. Need you to fill me.” I press back into him, greedy and unashamed, and feel him claim the space between us. My breath stutters as he sinks his tip into me, followed by his shaft.
We both groan, the sound loud and raw. I’m glad that we’re on the roof where the noise we make is drowned by the traffic below.
Slowly, he draws out and then just as slowly he moves back in.
His hand wraps around my body, and he teases my clit as his mouth drops to my ear, then the side of my neck, where he places gentle kisses.
It’s not enough.
“Faster,” I cry out, jerking my hips.
A rumble of laughter in my ear. “As you wish.” His hands go to my waist, one on each side, as he pulls my body back into him.
Moving me like I’m a doll, Damian sets a brutal pace, hips snapping, my ass pressed to his thighs as he drives deeper into me.
The table edge scrapes my elbows and wrists, but I don’t care.
An orgasm gathers in my core, glowing bright and hot.
A fire where the flames rise higher with each thrust, each hungry moan.
“Fuck, Hannah,” Damian pants in my ear. “It’s too good. It’s…,” his voice breaking. “It’s fucking amazing. You’re so tight and so wet, and I never want this to stop.”
I push back, meeting him with each stroke. His words, the awe in his voice, just add to my pleasure. I’m gasping, panting, can’t catch my breath as the tension swells. “I’m going to come. I can’t stop. I’m going to come.”
“Do it,” he urges, kissing my neck again. “Come on me. Be my good girl. I want to see it. To feel you.” His breath stutters against my lips. “God, I’ve waited so long. To have you come on my cock.”
I’m lost to sensation. There’s only his hands on me, his body so hot, his chest against my back.
I move at a frantic pace until all the pressure in my body becomes unbearable and I break.
With a loud, sharp cry, I come, undulating against him while he holds me close, our bodies fused.
Behind me Damian cries out and gives one final thrust, burying himself as deep as he can go.
We hold still for a second. I’m trembling, and Damian is too.
Slowly, gently, he pulls out and eases back enough for me to breathe. Now that I’m not so caught up in my body and how it reacts to his, reality rushes back in. I look down, embarrassed.
“Uh, sorry. I wasn’t expecting that,” I murmur to the floor.
A husky chuckle has me looking up. Damian turns me in his arms and stares at me with pure joy and fondness, in a way that makes me blush. I can feel it, the warmth in my face extending all the way to my hairline.
“I wasn’t expecting it either,” he rumbles, then pulls me close and rests his cheek on the top of my head. “But it was wonderful. Amazing. I want you to do it a thousand more times.”
I peek up at him, sure he must be joking. “What? Come a thousand times?”
“Every way you can,” he answers, smiling. “I’m going to find a million ways to make you feel good. I want to see you like that over and over again.”
I can’t help but smile back at that, at the enthusiastic way he says it. “I mean,” mock rolling my eyes, “if you insist.”
Then we’re laughing and kissing and Mr. Wiggles wakes. He weaves between our feet, yowling dramatically, clearly offended to be excluded. Damian scoops him up without hesitation, murmuring a quiet apology as he pets behind the cat’s ears.
“Hey,” I say, glancing down at my watch. “It’s five minutes until midnight.”
Damian grins, bends down, and kisses me again, soft this time, lingering.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispers.
“Happy Valentine’s Night,” I whisper back.
I thread my fingers through his and let myself stay in this moment. Soft light. Steady hands. Shared breath. As the city hums and the candles burn low, the evening folds gently around us. Tomorrow waits like a promise, warm and bright. One more kiss.
For the first time in a long time, neither of us is alone.
THE END
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Ready for your next Lexi Davis read? How about a Southern Gothic Dark Academia Romance? It's got a secret society and enemies-to-lovers!
When pizza girl Laurel Turner witnesses a murder at the most elite fraternity on campus, she’s claimed by its cold, dangerous heir and dragged into a world of secret rituals, power games, and twisted attraction.
Welcome to the world of The Order. If you love morally gray antiheroes, secret societies, and feral, forbidden romance…this one’s for you.
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Chapter 1
Laurel
The frat house rises before me, elegant columns and white brick.
Peaked dormer windows set in a slate gray roof.
The resemblance to the White House is unmistakable and no doubt intentional.
A sign outside, lit with floodlights is planted into manicured grass.
It reads, The Ashford House. Established 1813.
The same year the college, the town, was built.