Chapter 25 #2
Releasing him at once, I brace one palm on the counter behind me and lean back, ensuring he can see what I’m doing. He can. Damien watches, his pupils going wide as I press my free hand down to the juncture of my thighs and slip two fingers between the slick, naked lips of my cunt.
His breath stutters as I part them, showing him every inch of myself, and how wet he’s made me.
How impossibly turned on I am by what we’re doing.
How much I need him.
I have to bite my lip to mask my cry as he reaches out, circling the bud of my clit with the pad of his thumb. “Stay like that,” Damien mutters, as he takes himself in hand, fisting his base and guiding our bodies into alignment.
We’re both still dressed, me in my crudely pushed-up dress and him in a fitted black pullover, pants still hanging loosely on his hips.
If anyone paused outside the bathroom door, they would hear our ragged breaths and my poorly stifled cry as Damien circles my opening with the bulbous crown of his cock.
It’s impossibly hot, and I’m so turned on that even his tiny, controlled ministrations sound wet in the small room.
Unable to help myself, I arch closer, needing to feel him split me open once again.
Damien’s fingers dig into the flesh of my hip, stopping me. “Don’t fucking move,” he hisses, not lifting his eyes from my pussy.
The coppery, iron taste of blood floods over my tongue, and I realize how hard I’ve been biting my lip. “We don’t have time.” I remind him, squirming. “Please—”
My begging turns to a soft, choked moan as, finally, I feel the pressure of his cock against my entrance.
He pulses his hips ever so slightly, and we both stare as my body stretches, permitting the tip of him inside me. I expect him to go further, to give me more, but as the seconds pass, Damien still doesn’t move.
“How’s that, princess?” he muses, pulling out and pressing back in again. Still, he doesn’t give me more than the tip.
A desperate, broken whine escapes from between my clenched teeth. “I need more. Please—fuck—please, Damien.”
He ignores me, continuing to fuck me in slow, agonizingly shallow thrusts. The teasing is getting me wetter and wetter. It would be effortless for him to sink deeper, but he doesn’t, maintaining his ironclad control.
Meanwhile, I’m shaking. “Oh my god, you suck so bad,” I half-laugh, half-cry, tightening my legs around his waist in an unsuccessful attempt to pull him closer.
Gripping my waist with both of his massive hands, Damien finally tears his eyes from my unfilled pussy to look at my face. He smirks. “You want more?”
I dig my nails into his forearms, panting. “Yes, you asshole.”
Still not letting me move, he leans forward to brush his lips over my jaw, still maintaining the teasing, shallow thrusts.
I’m literally dripping now, tits heaving against him, and growing more frustrated by the second.
“If you want more,” Damien murmurs, his deep voice rumbling through me too, “You’ll come find me after the party. ”
Is he joking right now?
I can barely stifle my cry of protest and have to grit out my hushed, furious retort from between clenched teeth. “Oh my god, what is wrong with you?”
Goosebumps erupt up my spine as Damien presses his lips chastely to my pulse point, stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “You will be good and not attempt to drive me out of my mind with jealousy. Do I make myself clear?”
My head drops back against the wall with a dull thud, and it’s an effort to stop myself from collapsing as a rush of understanding washes over me. Holy shit. The attempt to provoke him into action may have worked a little too well.
Apparently, denial is not on the table.
“I—” Words fail me, and the muscles in my legs ache with how tightly I’m clinging to him.
His lips brush the line of my jaw, and I feel the rumble of his silent laugh as I let out a little whine to vent my discontent. “Now you know how I feel, princess. How does it feel to need someone so badly it drives you out of your mind?”
My heart somersaults in my chest and I clutch his forearms harder than ever, because the truth is, I already knew.
Damien leans back, his eyes on my dripping pussy as he permits himself a few slow, controlled thrusts, his jaw tightening as he watches himself fuck me. “You’re so goddamn wet for me,” he mutters. “I should send you to the party with this cunt painted in my cum.”
If I wasn’t already soaked, the idea of this would definitely do it.
“You can,” I plead, my voice soft and ragged.
“You can do whatever you want. Please, just, just…” My words fall away, turning to a muffled sob as he pulls out entirely, settling his hard cock against my pussy.
The distance between our bodies is only a few inches, but it’s enough that I can’t do more than grind helplessly against his length, unable to get enough pressure on my clit to do more than tease myself.
“Later,” Damien assures me, his lips curving in an infuriating little smirk as he watches me try to relieve the ache he left me with. “If you’re good, tonight.”
Disentangling himself from my legs, he steps back, and I sit up, snapping my thighs back together. “I hate you so much,” I hiss, watching him tuck his cock away, apparently satisfied he’s accomplished his mission.
Damien doesn’t respond right away, stooping to retrieve my fallen panties and shoes from the bathroom floor.
He only meets my eyes as he sets them on the countertop beside me and, despite the furious indignation I’m feeling toward him at the moment, I find myself melting as he tilts my chin up and lowers his lips to mine one more time.
This kiss isn’t like the last. It’s soft, controlled… sweet.
When he draws away, moving toward the door, the smirk has turned to a grin. “You know, princess?” he muses, resting his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t think you do.”