Chapter twenty - one Kendra
Chapter twenty-one
Kendra
The ride home is interminable. With no privacy screen between the front and back seats, Damon and I are forced to sit a safe distance apart, sneaking sly glances at each other like teenagers on the way to a school dance. Niko, as astute as always, turns on soft music to fill the charged silence.
Move along before you cause a scene, Damon had said in a tone that left no room for argument. Then he’d pulled me behind him, his body primed for a fight. My pussy pulses at the memory, and I squirm in my seat.
The energy between us went from simmering to a rolling boil as soon as I spotted him in that hickory suit. It complemented my auburn dress as if we’d planned it, and molded perfectly to his frame, showcasing thick, muscular thighs and shoulders wide enough to make an action hero jealous.
I’d had every intention of kissing him before we even reached the party—to practice, of course—but when I heard him talk down about himself, I saw red.
I know better than most how it feels to be judged by everyone and found wanting.
To stand side by side with your peers and feel like you don’t measure up.
Their judgement becomes a poison, seeping into your skin with every backhanded compliment, every sideways glance at your plate, every muffled giggle as you pass.
Their harsh opinions of you become your harsh opinion of yourself if you’re not careful. I’d had no choice but to intervene.
Nothing I said was a lie or even an exaggeration, yet he looked at me like I was the first person to ever give him praise without earning it.
The first to compliment him just to make him feel good.
As if I didn’t want to fuck him enough already!
That someone so talented, kind, and objectively handsome could still struggle with self-esteem was mystifying.
But it wasn’t my place to tell him how he ought to feel.
In that moment, I decided my only job was to wipe that hesitant expression off his face.
I made a point to include him throughout the night, pulling him into conversations and keeping him close.
I contained my lust just enough to smile for the cameras and make small talk.
Now we can finally give in to what we both want.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” he murmurs. Though he’s looking out the window, I can feel his focus on me. “If you’ve changed your mind—”
“No,” I interrupt, pulling his hands into my lap. “I’m actually thinking about how this is long overdue.”
He smiles faintly, but his eyes are serious.
“You might be right. Lord knows I never stopped wanting you. I was just trying to be smart.”
“And I respect that. I really do.” I squeeze his hands between mine. “But you can’t slay a dragon and then leave without the damsel.”
This time, he laughs outright, breaking the tension between us. I join him.
“Can a feminist be a damsel in distress?”
I give him a playful smirk.
“Only for a true knight in shining armor.”
He tugs me to his side, kissing the top of my head and breathing me in. I let out a contented sigh. This thing between us is definitely real. I just hope I can handle it.
“Wine?” I offer, dropping my keys and purse on the counter.
He nods and walks further into my apartment, heading straight for the windows. I don’t blame him; I bought this place for the view. He shrugs out of his jacket, admiring the city lights sparkling around us.
Instead of opening the bottle of white currently chilling in my fridge, I bend down to unlace my boots, one hand on the counter for balance.
Next, I unbutton my dress, letting the soft fabric slip down my body in a gentle caress.
I contemplate leaving my lingerie on—it matches my dress and makes me feel absolutely sinful—but the dress itself was a tease, hiding my skin but clinging to my curves. I’ll let him unwrap me another time.
I lean back against a barstool, presenting myself in a pose I know flatters all of my assets, and clear my throat.
“Damon? Could you help me find the corkscrew?” I ask, all innocence. “I must’ve misplaced it.”
When he turns to face me, his eyes widen in shock. They wander over me, landing on my breasts, my bare pussy, my legs, back to my breasts, then my eyes. It looks like he’s about to short-circuit, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Is everything OK?” I ask, still laughing.
He’s off the couch in a flash, ripping his belt from the loops with impressive force, kicking out of his shoes, and almost tripping over himself as he shucks off his pants and underwear.
“Uh, e-everything’s,” he pauses to yank the tie over his head, “fine,” he sputters, practically drooling at the sight of me. Buttons fly as he tears open his dress shirt, followed shortly by his undershirt. All laughter stops when he stands naked before me.
Once again, his striking tattoos leave me speechless.
Some sort of bird spans his chest, its wings spreading across both collarbones.
A tiger prowls down his right arm, while a dragon slithers up his left in full technicolor.
A bouquet of peonies, hibiscuses, and cherry blossoms covers his left hip and onto his thigh.
They decorate smooth skin stretched tight across muscles that could only come from years of discipline.
And at the base of my favorite muscles, the deep V of his pelvis, is his proud, thick cock, straining towards me.
It bobs as if it can feel my eyes on it, and my mouth actually waters.
I can’t wait to reward him for standing up for me earlier.
“Wow,” I exhale. He’s beautiful. His hungry gaze rakes over me, but I step back just as he reaches out. He lifts an eyebrow in question.
“Did I say you could touch me?” I ask, taking on a haughty air. Our last night together gave me a taste of power, and I’ve been itching to experiment further. By the flare of his nostrils, I can tell he’s more than willing to let me.
“No, ma’am,” he says, bowing his head.
Ugh, no. Ma’am is for old ladies and school principals.
“Madame,” I correct, my voice stern. His pupils nearly swallow the brown of his irises when he answers,
“Yes, madame.”
His immediate compliance sends a tingle up my spine, and goosebumps explode across my flesh. Yes, I like that very much.
I circle him as a predator might her prey, and his eyes stay laser focused on me, awaiting further instructions.
“I’ve been fantasizing about you since our first night together,” I admit, still circling. “Have you?”
“Yes, madame,” he murmurs without hesitation. I quirk my lips up into a pleased smile.
“Did you ever touch yourself while thinking of me?”
“Countless times, madame.”
His admission sends a fresh wave of lust over me, and my pussy moistens in anticipation.
“What was I doing when you touched yourself?”
His body wavers, as if he almost forgot to keep his distance before getting himself back in check.
“You were—” He stops and wets his lips before continuing. I see the muscles of his mouth work as he swallows. “You were bent over that armchair over there,” he jerks his head towards the living room, “and I was fucking you from behind until you screamed my name.”
I step in front of him but remain out of reach.
“I can’t always cum from vaginal penetration,” I warn. “You would leave me unsatisfied?”
He shakes his head emphatically.
“No, madame. I would only ever cum after you. If you’ll allow me—”
“No,” I answer simply, and almost giggle at his disappointed expression. “I will let you touch me,” I assure him, “but not until I’ve had the chance to taste you.”
I step closer, my hand resting on his cock. It throbs against my palm, and he hisses at the contact.
“I will taste you, you will taste me, and then you can take me from behind. Would you like that?”
“Very much, madame,” he says with a bob of his head.
With one hand still on his length, I place the other on his hip and sink to my knees in front of him. He releases a strangled sound when he looks down at me, his eyes burning into mine.
Though some might consider a blowjob to be a submissive act, I’ve always felt powerful with a man’s cock in my mouth.
I can choose to let him cum…or not. I can draw it out or make him lose control.
I can spit or I can swallow—I always swallow.
I can even use my teeth if he gets too pushy with his hands or tries to jam it down my throat.
His most prized possession is at my mercy.
I run my nails up and down his thighs, scratching hard enough that it won’t tickle, but not so hard as to leave a mark.
I lean forward, inhaling his musk before nuzzling his package with my nose and lips.
He lets out a frustrated grunt when I press my face against his length, but still don’t put him in my mouth.
I make a tsk sound.
“Can you be patient, or do I need to start all over?” I ask, still nuzzling against him.
“I can be patient, madame,” he answers through clenched teeth.
“Good boy,” I answer, and he nearly moans. I just knew he had a praise kink.
Done teasing him, I duck beneath his cock and suck the head into my mouth, hands-free. He jerks at the sudden contact, accidentally thrusting deeper into my mouth. I open wider to accommodate his girth.
Just as he gets used to the feeling of my lips around him, moving up and down his sizable shaft, I switch it up, cupping his balls with one hand and wrapping the other around his cock to lengthen the tunnel of my mouth.
“Goddamn!” he gasps. I laugh around his cock, and he moans as the sensation travels through him.
I work in tandem, slurping up his salty precum while twisting my hand along the shaft and massaging his balls. He bucks into my mouth uncontrollably, moaning loud enough for my neighbors to hear. I love a vocal man.
“Shit! Shiiit! K-Kendra. I mean, madame, please! If you don’t st-stop,” he sputters, breathing hard, “I’m going to…I’m going to!”