Chapter 3
DAMIEN
She's wrapped around me like a vine, her legs locked at my back, her arms around my neck.
The suddenness of it knocks the breath out of me.
For a split second, I freeze, my hands instinctively gripping her thighs to steady her.
Her face is inches from mine, those blue eyes wide with something between panic and wait, is that desire?
Doug's nails click against the floor as he disappears deeper into Alyssa's apartment, but I can barely focus on that now. Not with her soft body pressed against mine, the heat of her pussy against my stomach.
I clear my throat. "Doug won't hurt anything. He's just exploring."
"He hates me," she whispers, still clinging to me.
"He doesn't hate you." I adjust my grip on her thighs, trying not to think about how perfect they feel under my hands. "He's just protective. I need to show him you're a friend."
A friend. Right. Because friends hold each other like this, pressed so tight you can feel each heartbeat.
"What do you mean?" Her breath fans against my face.
"Dogs are pack animals. If he sees me accepting you, he'll follow suit."
She blinks, processing this. "So you have to ... what? Pet me?"
Christ. The image that flashes through my mind makes my cock twitch against the zipper of my jeans.
"Not exactly. Just ... be around you. Show him we're comfortable with each other."
Her arms loosen slightly around my neck, but she doesn't let go. "So I should stop hanging off you like a monkey?"
The corner of my mouth twitches. "Probably not the worst idea."
I expect her to disentangle herself immediately, but she hesitates, her eyes dropping to my mouth for just a moment before she slides down. The friction of her body against mine sends a jolt of electricity straight to my groin. I grit my teeth, fighting for control.
"Sorry." She straightens her sweater once her feet touch the floor. "I panicked."
"It's fine." It's far from fine. I'm suddenly very aware of how small the hallway is, how close we're standing, how she smells like vanilla and something warmer, spicier. "Let's go find Doug before he nests in your yarn."
The mention of her precious materials gets her moving. She turns and hurries back into her apartment, and I follow, shutting the door behind us.
Doug is sitting on the couch, looking smug, a ball of blue yarn between his paws.
"Doug," I say. "Leave it."
To my surprise, he does, tilting his head as if to say, "But I was just getting started."
Alyssa hovers near me, watching the dog warily. "What now?"
"Now we show him we're comfortable with each other." I gesture to the couch. "Sit with me."
She hesitates, then perches on the edge of the cushion, as far from Doug as possible. I sit beside her, close enough that our thighs touch. Even through the fabric of our pants, the contact sends heat coursing through me.
"Relax," I say, though I'm anything but relaxed myself. "He can sense fear."
"Great. No pressure."
I reach over and place my hand over hers where it rests on her thigh. Her skin is soft, her fingers slender compared to mine. She glances at our hands, then up at me, her eyes questioning.
"Just establishing contact, Alyssa, so he sees."
She nods, but doesn't pull her hand away. Doug watches us with suspicious eyes from his end of the couch.
I don't know what possesses me, but I shift closer, sliding my arm around her shoulders. She stiffens for a moment, then exhales slowly and leans into me. The weight of her against my side feels right in a way I'm not prepared for, like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place.
"Better," I say. "He's watching."
And he is. Doug's eyes are fixed on us, his head tilted in that way he has when he's trying to figure something out. He's probably wondering if I'm now Team Cat.
Alyssa turns her head to look at me, and suddenly our faces are very close. I can see her pupils blown wide, the slight flush on her cheeks, the freckles dotting her nose. Her lips part, and I forget all about Doug, forget about anything but the overwhelming urge to taste her.
"Damien?" she whispers.
My name on her tongue sounds so fucking good.
I'm suddenly, painfully aware of how long it's been since I've been this close to a woman. And not just any woman. Alyssa. The quiet tenant who's occupied far too many of my thoughts since she moved in, especially at night. God knows how many cold showers I took because of her.
"You smell good," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them. Just like that comment about the real thing being better, I don't know where the hell these words are coming from.
Her blush deepens. "Thank you."
Without thinking, I lift my hand to her face, cupping her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft beneath my calloused palm. She doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans into my touch, her eyes darkening.
It's that small movement that breaks my restraint. Not that I had much to begin with.
I lean in, closing the gap between us. The first touch of her lips against mine is tentative, questioning. Then she makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and something inside me snaps.
Fuck.
I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding into her hair, cradling the back of her head. Her lips are soft, yielding, opening beneath mine. She tastes sweet, and when my tongue sweeps into her mouth, she moans.
The sound goes straight to my cock, which is already straining against my jeans. I shift, trying to adjust without breaking the kiss, but it's futile. I'm hard as stone, and there's no hiding it.
Alyssa's hands clutch at my shoulders, her nails digging in through the fabric of my shirt. I want to feel those nails on my bare skin, want to feel her hands everywhere. I break the kiss, both of us breathing hard.
"We should stop," I say, though it's the last thing I want.
She looks up at me, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with desire. "Why?"
Good question. I can't remember a single reason why this is a bad idea. All I can think about is how much I want her.
"Doug," I say, gesturing toward the end of the couch.
We both look. Doug is no longer watching us. He's curled up in a ball, his back to us, apparently bored with our display.
"I think he's given his approval," Alyssa says with a small laugh. Her hand slides down my chest, and my muscles contract beneath her touch. Jesus. One simple touch, and she sets my whole body on fire.
"Looks that way." My voice is a growl. I stand abruptly, pulling her up with me. "My place. Now."
I don't wait for her response, just scoop her up, one arm around her waist, the other under her knees. She lets out a surprised squeak but doesn't protest as I carry her to the door.
"What about Doug?" she asks as I manage to open it without setting her down.
"He'll be fine. Door's unlocked, he can get out if he wants." I'm beyond caring about what Doug might do in her apartment right now. All I can think about is getting Alyssa to my place, to my bed.
No. Not the bed. Too far.
As soon as we're inside my place, I kick the door shut and head for the living room. I set her down next to the coffee table where my disassembled TV and tools are still spread out.
"Sorry about the mess," I say, already reaching for her again.
She smiles up at me. "I don't mind. Have you seen all my yarns?"
I pull her against me, claiming her mouth again. This time there's no hesitation, just hunger. Her hands are in my hair, her body pressed against mine. I can feel every curve, every soft place where she yields to my hardness.
I walk her backward until she hits the edge of the coffee table. Without breaking the kiss, I sweep my arm across it, sending tools and TV parts clattering to the floor.
It's going to be a bitch to clean up later. I'll probably never get the TV working again. Might need to finally buy a new one. My fucks to give are nowhere to be found, though. This is worth it. SHE is worth it.
I lift her onto the table, kneeling between her thighs as they part for me. Her legs wrap around my waist, just like they did in the hallway, but this time there's no pretense, no excuse about being scared of Doug. This time it's pure want.
My hands find the hem of her sweater, slipping underneath to touch bare skin. She's so soft, so warm. I want to touch every inch of her.
"Damien," she gasps when my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," I say against her neck, already knowing I'll stop if she asks, already dreading the possibility.
"Don't stop." She arches into my touch. "Please don't stop."
Thank fuck.
I push her sweater up, revealing her breasts. They're perfect—full and round, with pale pink nipples that harden under my gaze. I cup them in my hands, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, and she moans.
"Beautiful." I lower my head to take one nipple into my mouth, rolling it between my lips and lightly sucking.
She cries out, her fingers digging into my shoulders as I suck and lick. I pay equal attention to both breasts, lost in the taste and feel of her, the sounds she makes driving me wild.
I want more. Need more.
I'm firing from all directions as my hands go to the waistband of her pajama pants. I look up at her, waiting for permission.
She nods, lifting her hips so I can pull the pants down her long legs. Her panties go with them, and then she's bare from the waist down, her sweater still pushed up around her ribs.
The sight of her—flushed, half-naked, waiting for me—is the most erotic thing I've ever seen.
"Spread your legs wider for me, baby girl."
She does, slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. I run my hands up her calves, her knees, her thighs, savoring the smooth skin beneath my palms.
When I reach the apex of her thighs, I stop, drinking in the sight of her glistening folds.
"So wet already," I say, tracing a finger through her slickness. She shivers at my touch. "Is this all for me?"
She nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as I explore her.
"I need to hear you say it," I tell her, circling her entrance with one finger but not pushing inside.
"Yes. All for you."
Satisfaction roars through me. I lean in, replacing my fingers with my mouth, giving her one long, slow lick from entrance to clit. She tastes even better than I imagined. I just know I'm about to be addicted.
"Damien!" Her hands fly to my hair, not pushing me away but holding me in place.
I settle in, feasting on her like a starving man. I lick and suck, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her pull my hair tight enough to hurt. I don't care. I'd take the pain a thousand times over to hear the sounds she's making.
She can suffocate me, drown me in her juices, or scratch me, and I'll thank her.
"You taste so fucking good," I growl against her, then thrust my tongue inside her.
Fucking yes.
Her thighs clamp around my head, but I don't stop. I alternate between fucking her with my tongue and sucking on her clit, my hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread for me.
When I feel her beginning to tremble, I slide one finger inside her while focusing my mouth on her clit. She's tight, so tight around just one finger. The thought of how she'd feel around my cock makes me groan against her.
"Oh God. Damien, I'm going to—"
"Come for me," I say, adding a second finger and curling them to find that spot inside her. "Let me feel you come on my fingers, my tongue."
She shatters with a cry, her inner walls clenching around my fingers as I work her through it, licking and sucking until she's shaking with aftershocks.
Only then do I pull back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I look up at her. She's a vision—cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure.
I've just crossed a line I can never uncross. Landlord and tenant, neighbors, whatever we were before—it's all changed now. And it feels so damn good.
She reaches for me, pulling me up for a kiss. I let her taste herself on my tongue, groaning when her hand brushes against the bulge in my jeans.
"You said the real thing is better," she whispers against my mouth. "I think I should be the judge of that, don't you?"
Her hand cups me through my jeans, and I nearly come right then and there like a teenager. I want nothing more than to strip off the rest of our clothes and bury myself inside her.
But something stops me. Maybe it's the fact that I want this to be more than just sex. Maybe it's because I want to do this right.
I capture her hand, bringing it to my lips. "Not until I take you out on a proper date."