Chapter 15 Kit
KIT
There’s another package. One just like before sat on my bed, feigning innocence like the gift-bearer himself.
The box is the same size as the last, with the same matte-black finish, and secured with a familiar ruby ribbon.
Again, there’s no name, just a single item wrapped in delicate leaves of subtle gold.
Except this time, the lingerie isn’t virginal white. Oh no. This time it’s sinful red.
It’s an invitation, a dare… a calling.
And I accept them all.
On our date four days ago, I was more than ready to give myself to a man for the first time. And now, so is Damian.
Quickly, I tear off my jeans and hoodie and throw them in an uncharacteristic heap on my floor. Then, I reverently open the barely-there lace.
If it’s even possible, there’s less material than last time.
This piece is a simple pair of skimpy shorts rather than a complicated maze of ties and string.
I step into the garment and preen as it hugs my cheeks and hardening cock beautifully, the siren red stark against the pale cream of my upper thighs.
A glance in the mirror tells me the shorts look just as scandalous as they feel. I turn around and look over my shoulder, running my hands over the rough lace that covers my ass. Biting my lips, I bend at the waist, groaning as I test out the most indecent feature.
The lace parts, leaving Damian’s path to my virgin hole completely unobstructed. Gently, I trace my finger through the split material, brushing the tip over my puckered skin.
Fuck.
I hurriedly grab my phone off my dressing table and aim the camera at the mirror.
I strike the same pose as before and centre the image on my most intimate place.
The resulting photo’s not a work of art since my face isn’t in focus and the lighting is shit, but I’m convinced Damian won’t notice.
As invitations in the form of lingerie go, this is pretty good.
For the briefest moment, I consider whether I should be sending something like this over text, but my blood-starved brain screams at me that Damian needs to get here like, ten minutes ago.
Besides, I trust Damian. So, after religiously double-checking the name at the top of the thread, I upload the picture and hold my breath as I click send.
Me: What do you think?
I don’t get a response, at least not in the traditional sense. Instead, all I hear is glass shattering in the kitchen, before the thunder of hurried footfall on the stairs. That’s all the warning I get before my door flies open on its hinges and Damian barrels in.
He looks crazed, his dark eyes blown, and a flush painted high across his cheeks. His chest heaves with the effort it took to get to me so quick, and he slams the door behind him, never once tearing his eyes away from me.
I’ve never felt so powerful.
“So…” I taunt, spinning slowly to give him the full effect. “Is this everything you hoped for?”
I don’t know why I’m asking. Damian’s clearly lost the use of his words.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” I say, putting my back to him and leaning forward teasingly. “Come and see for yourself.”
I invited Damian in, goaded him into taking me, and yet I’m still unprepared when he slams into my back. His impatience knocks the breath from my lungs as his strong, unyielding arms wrap around me, one around my stomach and one snaking across my chest to pin me to his.
“Kit,” Damian groans, dropping his head to my shoulder. “Fuuuuuck.” The rough ridge of his denim-covered dick presses insistently against me, and I yelp as he sinks his teeth into my soft flesh. The resulting ache is surpassed only by the need building in my stomach.
“Tell me what you want, Kit,” he pleads, licking a stripe over my abused neck.
“You,” I gasp, throwing my head back against him. “I want to feel all of you.”
“I need you to say it, Kit.”
I rise onto my toes, leaning forward as far as I can in his vice grip to rub myself over his hardened length. “Fuck me, Damian. Please, I want you to be the first.”
“I’m going to be your fucking only, sweetheart,” he growls, spinning me around so violently that I lose my footing. Uncharacteristically off balance, it only takes one small push for Damian to send me tumbling down onto the bed, and I’m engulfed by a pile of pillows before I can even orient myself.
I expect Damian to rain down on top of me, to devour me where I lie until we’re both lost to the desire simmering between us.
But as the seconds pass, Damian stands frozen before me.
His eyes claw down the length of my body, leaving dark ravines of lust that trail fire along every nerve touched by their longing gaze.
He’s not just looking at me, he’s fixated, obsessed, unable to tear himself away, and bolstered by his unrelenting attention, I let my knees fall open, spreading my legs so that the hidden, lacy seam along my crevice parts before his eyes.
I watch as Damian runs his tongue across his teeth like he can already taste everything I have to offer him. But he still. Does. Not. Move. And that just won’t do. So, I take my finger into my mouth, wetting it as best I can before bringing it down to trace over my hole.
I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. It’s like he’s making up for lost time after his previous indulgence. He rips his T-shirt over his head and tears off his grey joggers before leaping at the bed and claiming my mouth in a deep, possessive kiss.
His tongue coaxes my lips open, demanding entry so insistently that I give in without a second thought. His kiss leaves me breathless, my head spinning enough that I can only keen as he nips his way down my body, biting at my collarbone, my nipples, and even at the softness of my navel.
“Hmm, as much as I love you in these,” he says, his nose running along the lace bunched at the juncture of my thigh.
“They aren’t for tonight. For our first time, I want to see all of you, just as you are.
” And with that, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my hot pants and drags the shorts down my shaking legs.
“Come on then, Kit,” he says, blowing a teasing trail of air down the length of my cock. “Open up. Show me everything.”
I do as he says, slowly running my feet along my silky duvet to spread my thighs again, just as he asked.
Exposing myself like this feels different now.
Yes, the flimsy lace covered practically nothing, but it was there, a barrier standing between Damian and the last of my innocence.
And as ready as I am to lose that, as ready as I am to feel him inside of me, the thought of taking this last step for the first time is daunting.
Of course, nothing about me ever escapes Damian. Whatever sultry persona I triggered in him with my indecent pic, he drops it instantly, his whole demeanour softening before my eyes.
Thank fuck. There’s my Damian.
“Hey, no,” he says, gently cupping my cheek. “Kit, we don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to. You can change your mind. Always.”
Fuck, he’s so fucking sweet.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” I laugh shakily. “I mean, I’ve got a whole drawer of toys that do exactly this.”
“But you’re in control with them, right? And now you have to give that control over to someone else. That’s pretty big.”
“Yeah, I suppose. But… this is you.” Even as I say the words, something clicks inside me, a realisation that I’m not giving free rein over my body to just anyone. I’m giving it to Damian.
I push myself up on the bed and wrap my arm around his broad shoulders. “I trust you,” I whisper, coaxing him back down on top of me. “I want you, Damian. Make me yours.”
“You’re sure?” he asks, never taking his eyes off mine.
I don’t answer. Instead, I flick my tongue over his lips before taking them in a filthy kiss. “Come on, Damian,” I say breathlessly, reaching out to unearth the lube stashed beneath my spare pillow. “Get me ready for your cock.”
He smirks, accepting the offering before settling in to make good on his promise. “Anything for you, Kit.”
He runs his hands along the insides of my thighs and spreads them even further apart. Goosebumps erupt under his gym callused palms, and my cock jumps in appreciation.
I close my eyes and make a conscious effort to relax my muscles, even as waves of craving crash over me. I listen for the telltale snick of the lube, breathing steadily to ease Damian’s way.
But the sound never comes.
“Fuck, Damian!” I scream. My arms develop a mind of their own, reaching out to grip his hair as nerves I never knew I had burst to life. Where the hell did Damian learn about rimming?!
Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m not going to last. I’m going to die in this bed, a harlot virgin, overdosed on carnal pleasure, and I don’t even care.
“Perfect,” Damian breathes reverently against me.
“Damian,” I sob. Yes, sob. The fucking overachiever. “I don’t want to come yet.”
My stepbrother chuckles darkly. “Your wish is my command,” he says with a final teasing lick.
“Your fingers,” I moan. “Now.”
Damian’s smug smile makes me want to punch him, and I almost do, but I’m stopped by the blessed sound of the lube finally opening.
He quickly coats his fingers before swiping a healthy dose of cold liquid between my cheeks.
He teases me, circling my entrance, spiralling further and further inwards until I’m a quivering mess beneath him.
“Is this what you want, Kit?” he asks far too innocently.
I push against his finger, not resting until the tip slips in.
“Yes,” I cry. God, how can it get much better than this?
He opens me slowly, working in one finger, and then two, carefully stretching me until I can do nothing but feel. Then, he finds it, that beautiful spot inside of me that makes stars explode across the ceiling.
“There. God, there!”
Damian furrows his brows. The look of concentration on his face would be adorable if he weren’t so determinedly abusing my prostate. Then, he works in a third finger, and I nearly come on the spot.