Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Blair
Being fucked by Damien Mallory is the closest I’ve ever come to a religious experience.
Not because of how much he makes me come, or the number of—admittedly creative—ways he positions my body, or how good it all feels.
It’s the way his hands dig into my flesh, holding me so tightly it’s like he isn’t entirely in control of himself.
It’s the way he looks at me, as though the sight of me, naked and squirming beneath him with my thighs spread wide and his name on my lips, is the most erotic thing he’s seen in his life.
It’s the way he could happily spend hours with his head between my thighs, ignoring his own needs in favor of fulfilling mine.
Following the night I snuck out of the house and into the shower with him, part of me was still bracing for a regression to the before times, with lots of icy silences and spiteful commentary.
Even if it felt different, I couldn’t quite trust that Damien wouldn’t get angry at himself for giving in, and that we’d be back to suffering through another few weeks of sexual tension before he worked on pulling his head out of his ass again.
That wasn’t the case. Like, at all. If anything, it seems like the lingering frustration needs to be worked out, and once would never be enough.
So, to commemorate the end of the bang-blockade, the departure of my insufferable family members, and no more psychological warfare in Thornhurst, we have been having sex. A lot of sex.
“Fuck, princess. You’re so goddamn wet for me.”
In response to Damien’s praise, a broken cry falls from between my parted lips, and my pussy—which was dripping to begin with—gets wetter.
I’m kneeling on the bench in the poolroom, holding on to the back for dear life as Damien fucks me in rapid, punishing thrusts from behind. One hand is gripping my hip, aiding him in dragging me back and forth, as the other paws roughly at my bouncing tits.
The slap of skin-on-skin echoes off the stone ceiling, and his deep groan of approval is louder than I’ve ever heard it. The sound of it turns me on so much and is almost certainly responsible for yet another wave of fresh arousal over his shaft.
Finding my voice, I let out a breathy laugh and allow my head to drop back, arching my ass higher for him.
“Are you sure it isn’t from the pool?” We’d been swimming before he finally lost patience with me “accidentally” pressing my ass against his crotch at every possible opportunity and hauled me out of the water to “teach me a lesson.”
Oh no.
Not a lesson.
Darn.
Damien growls and pinches my nipple, tugging on it hard enough to make me squeal. “Such a fucking brat.” Abandoning my nipples, his hand drops to the space between my thighs and presses two fingers to my clit immediately, circling the slick bud with just the right amount of pressure.
“Shit,” I half-laugh, half-moan, “that’s perfect. Oh god, please don’t stop.”
His free arm loops around my torso, and I gasp as I find myself being hauled up until my back is pressed flush to his chest. I can’t hold on to the bench like this or anchor myself to anything other than him.
Twin moans echo off the stone ceiling as I clutch his arm with one hand, while the other finds its way to his neck
“You don’t want me to stop?” Damien hisses directly in my ear, his fingers slowing threateningly. “Tell me who made this bratty cunt so fucking wet.”
Zero hesitation is required.
“You,” I cry, grinding into his touch now, “you make me wet.”
“Yes, princess, I do.” He rewards me with more pressure on my clit, still driving his cock into my body in brief, punishing thrusts.
“Christ, you drive me crazy. I can’t even do my goddamn job.
All I can think about is getting you under me again, getting inside you, getting my cum as deep as I can—” He breaks off with a groan, and if he wasn’t holding me up, I would have collapsed.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I hear myself chanting, hiccupping in pleasure as heat spreads outward from my tender, hard-used pussy.
The man behind me groans as my inner walls clamp down on his length, instinctively trying to keep him inside me as my body convulses, falling over the edge into an orgasm that makes lights burst behind my eyelids.
My head has fallen back, and Damien’s hand tangles in my damp hair, dragging me around so he can meet my parted lips in a hungry, searching kiss. I’m still trembling and panting as he devours me, and the rhythm of his thrusts begins to falter.
He isn’t ready for this to be over, though.
I cry out as he pulls out without warning, leaving me empty.
Before I can think to look around at him, though, his hands are on my waist, turning me.
I find myself on my butt, blinking up at the tight-jawed man towering over me.
His cock is long and veiny, the ruddy skin gleaming with my cum, and I moan at the sight of it.
As I reach for him, though, Damien shakes his head curtly, and I realize he’s guiding me to lean further back. “Push your tits together,” he snarls, using the same furious tone he did when we threw mud at each other that day in the woods.
God, how much of our behavior back then was sexual frustration without us even realizing?
“Like this?” I breathe, gathering my tits together as Damien follows me onto the bench, bracketing my torso with his knees, and he grips the base of his dick, guiding it through the tight space between my breasts. Fucking them.
Oh my god. Why is this so hot?
I can’t do more than watch, dizzy with lust as he rolls his hips into me, using the wetness he forced me to admit I made for him as lube.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this,” Damien mutters, and when I finally manage to look at his face, I see the whole of his focus is on the glide of his shaft through the tight space.
“Every time I looked over at you running and saw these goddamn tits—” He breaks off, and the tendons in his neck strain as he lifts his hands to cover mine, pushing them in harder than ever. “Fuck—fuck!”
The curse echoes through the room around as, with a few more shallow, desperate thrusts, he stills.
A whimper escapes from between my lips as I feel the first hot lash of his release against my skin, and I’m panting when he finally relaxes the pressure of his hands on mine, getting back to his feet.
My breath catches as I let my hands fall too and get my first view of his cum smeared over the globes of my breasts and dripping through the space between them.
Dazed, I drag my index finger through the thickest section, and my heart is beating wildly as I lift my gaze to meet his.
Slowly, I dip the finger between my lips, sucking his cum off the tip.
Damien’s pupils dilate.
Something heady settles over us as he leans over me, bracing one hand on the back of the bench and lifting the other to the hollow between my breasts.
Neither of us says a word, and our labored breathing slows as Damien gathers a thick bead of release on the pad of his thumb, dragging it over each of my pebbled nipples in turn.
This isn’t the result of dumb lust; it’s darker, more proprietary, and the muscles in my belly tighten as he pauses to take more. This time, he stares directly into my eyes, cataloguing my reaction as he brings the digit to my oversensitive clit and gives it the same treatment.
“That’s it,” he mutters approvingly. “Do you want some inside you, too?”
Damien chuckles quietly as, instantly, my thighs spring wider apart. I must look a little embarrassed, because he leans in, kissing the corner of my mouth and murmuring the words, “Good girl.”
My breath hitches, and I’m incapable of looking anywhere other than at his face as Damien carefully gathers up the last creamy drops of cum, his attention focused on the task at hand. Heat floods my lower abdomen as he eases two fingers inside me, carefully curving them to stroke my G-spot.
Hoooly shit.
Another soft kiss on my cheek, and he eases his fingers free, straightening up at last.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he rumbles approvingly, and the accompanying dimple/smirk combination does not help my state of mind. Then—because he’s still kind of a turd—Damien reaches out, offering me his hand. “Come on. We didn’t finish our laps.”
“That wasn’t enough exercise for you?” I ask, rolling my eyes, as I allow him to pull me to my feet.
Grinning now, he draws backward toward the pool, not releasing his hold on my hand.
We are both naked and ignore the pile of abandoned, sodden swimsuits resting on the floor beside the bench.
Damien jumps off the edge into the water, and I have little choice but to stumble after him, colliding with his body beneath the surface.
It’s just deep enough for my toes to brush the bottom, but my attempt to push off toward the shallows is thwarted. Tall enough that he can stand, Damien pulls me into his chest, and I bite back a smile, allowing my legs to wind around his waist.
The words tattooed on his pectoral draw my attention, and thoughtfully, I run my fingers over the slanting script. It’s faded with age, and the edges are a little blurred, which makes it even more difficult for me to read. Now, half covered by water in the shadowy pool, it’s next to impossible.
“What does this mean?” I ask quietly, because I’ve seen it enough to be pretty sure the words aren’t even in English.
“It’s Latin,” he tells me. “It means duty before all else.”
I trace the ink, silently mouthing the words. Duty before all else. The phrase is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “Is it from your Navy days?” I ask but receive only a lazy hum in confirmation.
Water laps quietly against the wall of the pool as he gathers me closer. We kiss, and in my heart, I know the water is only partially responsible for my feeling of buoyancy.
“That was incredibly hot, by the way,” Damien murmurs when we part, his voice gravelly and warm.
I know what he’s referring to, and I have to agree. “Can I ask you something?” I pose, voicing another of the many questions that’s been on my mind the past few weeks. “Have you ever had sex like this before? It’s okay if you have. I’m just… curious.”
Damien’s smile turns to a thoughtful frown, but he doesn’t seem to need clarification on what sex I’m referring to.
To me, it’s different, but it’s hard not to be a little embarrassed by the question.
I’m younger than him and less experienced.
Maybe I’ve been having sex with the wrong people, or he is just particularly good at it.
Either way, I don’t want to read into things any more than I already have if, to him, this uncontrollable need is totally normal.
Under the water, Damien’s fingers ghost up and down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“No,” he admits at last. “I haven’t had sex like this with anyone but you.
” My heart flips, then flips again, as the dimples make a sudden reappearance.
“Try not to look too pleased with yourself, princess.”
I hum, enjoying the way his skin feels against mine beneath the water. “Would it help to know this is new for me, too?”
“It would help a lot, actually,” Damien admits quietly, and my breath hitches as his hand finds its way to the back of my neck, guiding my lips to his.
My eyes fall closed, and it’s like my entire awareness is centered on our slow, sensual kiss. It goes on and on, without ever growing more heated.
There is a moment when we part, and as my eyes flutter open to meet his, it’s in time to see Damien’s lips stretch into a slow smile. Then, he draws us back together all over again, brushing his fingers over the column of my neck, and I swear I feel it all the way in my toes.
This isn’t lust—It’s so, so much better.
When it ends, neither of us acknowledges the undercurrent of something deeper which just passed between us, but Damien still doesn’t let me float away. “Just think,” he muses, “only a month ago, you were dropping mud down my pants.”
Laughter bursts out of me, ringing off the walls and ceiling, as he allows us to drift apart at last.
His eyes glint as, still grinning, Damien lifts his chin toward the far end of the pool. “Now, finish your laps, princess.”