Chapter 29
29
I didn’t mean to say those words
Like the bullet of an enemy, they came out of nowhere.
Speaking of bullets, I’m on the edge of sweating more than when I’ve had the cold barrel of a gun shoved against my skull.
Death doesn’t scare me.
But feelings? Honesty? Goddamn love?
Those are the fucking boogeymen in my life.
I. Love. You.
And while I hadn’t expected to say them, no truer words have ever left my mouth.
Our breathing—hers short, mine long—is the only noise in the closet.
Pippa stares at me in shock, and her fingers slip from my blazer sleeve in what seems like slow motion.
The room is hot, like I suddenly replaced the closet with a sauna.
I sweep a hand over my face to collect myself before tearing my blazer off and dropping it on the floor.
No going back now .
Might as well continue showing her a side of myself no one sees.
No more hiding from her by slipping on my mask. I do it with enough people.
I cock my head to the side, taking in every inch of her face.
Her high cheekbones, how she sucks in her cheeks when breathing, the way her plump lips pucker as she thinks.
When I’m with her, it’s like I’m losing my sanity.
I’m wrapped up in her, forgetting where I am, who I am, how the fucking world works.
But in a good way.
Maybe it’s the opposite.
Maybe she’s leading the way for me, helping me find a speckle of sanity within myself.
I clear my throat, more words coming. “I’ve never said those words to a woman not in my family. But something I’ve learned these past few months is how fast you can lose someone.” I ball my hand into a tight fist and press it against my heart. “I bleed for you, Pippa. You’ve danced your way into this cold heart of mine, somehow slipping yourself through the shattered cracks.”
Her hand shakes as she reaches out and places it over my fist.
The warmth of her touch spills through my hand, my chest, straight to this organ I once referred to as useless.
Pippa accepts my past, my darkness, my work.
All of me .
I’ve never felt so cut the fuck open before, bleeding for someone.
“I love you, Damien,” she whispers, slipping her hand from my fist up to my neck, smoothing her nails over the skin.
I clasp my hand around her wrist and force her to dig her nails deeper into my skin. I want her to mark and sink her entire being inside me.
And she does.
“You’re my protector.” She stands on my feet to give herself better height and hovers her lips across from mine. “The only man in this dark world I trust and ever want to touch me is you.”
I bite into my lip, miserably suppressing a groan, when she plunges her nails into my neck.
“Say it again,” I demand. The tenderness that occupied my voice earlier is now long gone.
Madness swirls inside me as I need her to say those words like a broken record.
“I love you, Damien,” she says, her lips brushing mine with each word. “I’m yours.”
“That’s right. All mine.” I nip at her lip before biting into it, tugging it back as if I want to rip it apart and consume her. “Prepare for me to fuck what’s mine, baby.”
That beautiful blush appears on her cheeks.
“That pink,” I say in wonder. “Let’s see how it compares to your pussy lips.”
She gasps when I hoist her on the island, spread her toned thighs as wide as possible, and settle between them. Her body trembles as I smooth my hands over her legs. The softness of her skin is a luxury against my callous palms. Resting one hand on her knee, I slip off her panties and open my mouth, allowing spit to drop from my lips onto her waxed pussy.
“I’m going to dominate this body,” I say, slapping her pussy and smearing my spit all over it. “And you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she moans, throwing her head back.
I’m going to prove exactly what she said.
That she’s goddamn mine .
That includes every inch of her sexy-as-hell body.
I might’ve said those cherished three words gently.
But that gentleness is gone.
The chandelier above the island provides enough light to fit the requirements of a surgical room. I’ve never seen Pippa’s pretty pussy as on display as this. It’s glistening, pink, and so ready for my mouth.
I crack my neck and flex my fingers like a man ready to start a hard day’s work.
“The color of your pussy and your blushing are my favorite pinks,” I say, teasingly running a finger along her slit. “So beautiful, baby.”
Cupping each ass cheek in my hand, I lift her pussy to my mouth. She moans as I lick from right above her asshole to her pussy. Her body shudders, and she squirms in my hold as I shove three fingers inside her.
I lower my face and devour her sweet pussy.
I suck on her clit.
As I eat her, I mutter, “I love you,” against her folds.
I tongue it from side to side, moaning, “You’re mine.”
I wasn’t lying when I told her the world could be ending around us and she’d still have all my attention.
My sweet ballerina, falling in love with the cold-blooded killer.
I slide half her body off the edge, giving myself a better angle, and in a matter of seconds, she comes all over my face.
I step back as she moans my name and hurriedly unbuckle my pants and shove them down to my knees. I don’t bother kicking them off or removing my shoes. I raise my button-up, holding it with one hand, while gripping my cock with the other.
All that’s coming from Pippa are moans and begs for me to fuck her.
“Condom,” she pants.
I open her panty drawer to collect one. I keep rubbers stashed all over this place now. I speedily rip it open with my teeth, toss the wrapper on the floor, and roll it onto my throbbing cock.
I’ll die if I’m not inside her soon.
“Damien, hurry.” She tightens her legs around my waist to jerk me closer, giving Ace a run for his money on grip action. “I need you inside me before I fuck myself with my own fingers.”
Oh, she has threats, huh?
I anchor one hand on her waist, the other on my cock, and thrust inside her. Her body drives up, sliding along the island, but I don’t let up.
I fuck my sweet dancer, the woman I love, how she deserves to be fucked.
She moans, her back arching. My hips will be bruised after impaling the island repeatedly. She whips her head from side to side, throwing her arm out and knocking shit off the island. My dick throbs, swelling inside her and needing more.
“You said you’re mine,” I say, sliding my hand up her stomach, over her bra, and to her throat. I stretch it around her neck, my eyes boring into hers. Her eyes widen as I circle my grip to behind her neck and raise her head. Bowing mine, I meet her in the middle. “No goddamn take-backs.”
All my life, I’ve told people we don’t give refunds at Lucky Kings.
I’m not about to change that now in my own home.
Her muscles contract around my cock, her pussy growing wetter, the juices slapping against my thighs. She tenses her muscles, her face scrunching, and I keep her face up as she comes apart beneath me.
Mine is building, building, building.
My dick throbs with the need to release, and when I do, I feel my cum pumping out of me. I throw my head back, ramming my hips forward, and plant myself inside her.
We’re catching our breaths.
Coming down from our high.
But just like I told her in the theater, I’m not done with her yet.
I’ll never be .
I slowly pull out, toss the condom in the trash, put on another, and then fuck her on the vanity. It’s hard and rough.
Then, I move her to our bed, where I make love to her, nice and slow, putting her back together.
And when I collapse on top of her and spread my hand over her damp hair, I smile. “You’re all mine, sweet dancer.”
She returns the smile. “And you’re all mine.”
“No fucking take-backs.”