Chapter twenty-one
Damon, Emma, and Annie's Home, London
Emma
The scene that played out at the supermarket took me by surprise.
I’ve never been involved with a man so dominant or self-confident that he’ll openly talk about sex and want to discuss what I like.
I’ve never been given options. Not that I have much experience—there have only been two men until now, and neither lasted long in my life.
Of what I remember of our intimacy, my experience was underwhelming.
I’m sitting in the passenger seat when Damon climbs in the other side. As I pull my seatbelt across my body, he leans over and takes it from me then secures the clip. “I’m perfectly capable of fastening my own belt,” I mutter under my breath. He takes my hand closest to him and lifts it to his lips.
“That was for me, not you. Your safety is my priority. I couldn’t stand it if you got hurt.”
My heart swells. It’s been years since someone worried about my safety. No one has since my parents. It feels fucking good.
His big fingers grasp the key in the ignition and turn; the old car roars to life.
As we draw out of the parking area, he takes my hand closest to him in his once more.
Our fingers intertwine as he rests them on my thigh.
I know the drive will take around fifteen minutes to reach our destination.
My palms begin to sweat with nerves and anticipation.
He releases my hand, then lays his across my leg once more.
Through my thin running leggings, I feel the heat radiate from him to me.
By the time we arrive outside the house, my blood has heated enough that I feel like a human furnace. He pulls to a stop and cuts the engine.
“Nervous?”
“A little,” I admit, twisting my hands together and sitting them on my lap.
“We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to.” His gaze flits to me then back to the road. “Promise me you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”
“That won’t be…” I trail off when his eyes return to mine and narrow.
“It’s important, Emma. I want you to promise you’ll tell me if you want to stop.”
“I promise,” I whisper, dropping my eyes as my cheeks burn hot.
“Good, because I want tonight to go well,” he says honestly.
“For both of us.” His hand slides slightly higher up my leg until his fingers fill the small gap between my thighs.
My nipples stand to attention as my pussy clenches, excited by the close proximity of his fingers.
He drums lightly on the outside of my running pants.
The small movements between my legs awaken my libido, which hasn’t seen the light of day in a while.
We sit for a few minutes, him touching me and me enjoying the sensation.
“I’ll need to freshen up,” I say quietly.
“Why? I’m going to make sure you get messy.”
A laugh escapes with the unexpected quip.
The sexy smile on his lips turns into a lopsided one.
He cocks his head to one side, and intense eyes run from my face down my body and back to meet mine.
“I plan to have you very messy. Are you ready to go inside?”
I swallow but nod deliberately. “Yes.” The word comes out husky, and I bite my lip with embarrassment.
“Come on then,” he says, climbing out of the car.
The additional security guards who were stationed at the hospital have followed behind us in a simple black pick-up via the grocery store and are now parked on the opposite side of the street.
Damon tells me their presence will be something I get used to.
Always there, but silent. An additional layer of protection for us both inside and outside the house.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. Fuck, I’ve dreamt of this.
Thought about what it would be like to be with him intimately.
But never did I think it would happen; never did I think I would get to experience what being with Damon McKinney would be like.
I’d accepted he was the treat I would never taste.
It looks like tonight I’m going to find out.
He walks up to the front door of the house, and I see how his broad back causes the material of his fine wool sweater to strain. Those fucking eyes turn and focus on me, and he raises his eyebrows. “Are you coming?” he prompts. I push the passenger door open and walk up the path to join him.
Once we are through the front door, he closes it softly behind us.
I stand in the center of the hallway as he approaches from behind and wraps strong arms around my middle.
One hand rises and sweeps a strand of hair from my neck, and warm lips touch my skin, then rise to my ear.
“Go upstairs, have a shower, and wait for me in your room,” he whispers, clearly aroused.
He flexes against my ass, and I feel his hardened cock between my cheeks.
This is happening—we’re going to sleep together.
“I’ll be with you in twenty minutes. Make sure your vibrator is charged.”
“You want to use my vibrator on me?” I stutter, surprised. When he mentioned it earlier, I assumed it was a joke. “Do men not get jealous of electronic substitutes?”
He snickers. “Boys are intimidated by vibrators, Emma. Real men know how to use them to their advantage.”
My breath catches as my knees wobble. He tightens the grip on my waist, pulling me closer.
“When I slide my cock inside that pussy of yours, you’ll be so fucking horny you’ll orgasm on impact. I want you so fucking ready that you weep for me.”
“That’s one hell of a claim,” I tease. “Don’t over-promise and under-deliver, it’s never a good look.”
“I never under-deliver,” he growls. “Now, go and get ready.”
He releases me then taps my ass with sharp fingers.
I step forward, trying to maintain my composure, but what I want to do is run upstairs, strip naked, and lie spread-eagled on the bed waiting for him.
“Wear something I’ll enjoy ripping off,” he calls from behind me, and my lips part into a wide grin.
I don’t turn around, merely walk away bursting with excitement.
Once back in my room, I quickly grab a towel and run to the bathroom across the hall.
After turning on the shower, I wait for the steam to rise before stepping under the stream of water.
It flows across my body as I wash my hair.
My body wash sits to the side; I pick it up off the shelf and massage it into my skin using the sponge I have waiting.
As my hand arrives between my legs, I dab gently then drop the sponge and move a finger to my lips.
Already sensitive, a shot of arousal bursts through me as I touch my clit.
My whole body feels on edge and ready to comply with whatever Damon McKinney wants from me.
Before I get carried away, I turn off the water and exit the shower, wrapping my hair and then myself in a towel then hurrying back to my room.
I sit down at the dressing table in the corner, remove the covering from my head, and begin to brush my hair.
It always amazes me how dark it becomes when wet; I love how the strands turn different colors as it dries.
Knowing that I only have minutes before Damon’s arrival, I quickly braid it out of the way then stand and move to my wardrobe.
Sexy lingerie isn’t something I possess, never having had any requirement for it.
So, I choose a simple black thong and team it with a short silk nightdress.
The neckline is V-shaped trimmed with black lace, and the nightdress itself is white.
The material is so thin that when I turn around my thong glints through the fabric.
This will need to do. I’m debating whether to slip into high heels when there’s a knock on the door.
When I open it, Damon stands on the other side. He’s dressed in loose gray shorts and a white t-shirt. His bare feet are in stark contrast to the dark wood floor.
“Your t-shirt is damp,” I tell him as I take in the spots where it sticks to his skin.
“I showered,” he replies with a smirk.
“Forgotten how to dry yourself before dressing?”
“No,” he says, stepping forward. The bottle of wine he’s carrying clinks loudly off the glasses dangling from his fingers. “I was too fucking impatient. So, you’ll have to take me still damp.”
“I’ll take you whatever way I can get you,” I answer on impulse, then gulp. He laughs, and that bloody smile I love reappears.
“The feeling is mutual, Emma. Can I come in?”
I step back in answer, and he saunters past me, still calm and collected while my insides twist.
The gray fabric hangs off his ass, clinging just right to give me a preview of the body underneath.
When he’d stood on my doorstep, it’d been hard not to notice the bulge at his crotch.
I’d tried not to look but couldn’t help it.
“Drink?” he says, placing the bottle and two glasses on the chest of drawers in my bedroom.
“Please.”
I watch him pop the cork and pour two generous measures of crisp white wine.
He passes me one and takes his own between his fingers.
He raises the glass toward me and smiles.
“To new beginnings,” he toasts, then takes a sip.
I mirror his actions. We stand, watching each other as we drink.
Neither of us speak. The sexual tension in the room is palpable.
After I finish, he plucks the glass from my fingers and places both his and mine back on the chest. “Any requests?” he asks.
“Requests?”
“About how we do this,” he clarifies.
“And what would this be…” I emphasize the word this. He steps forward and takes both my hands then wraps them around his back, holding me to him. I’m pulled forward—our bodies slam together and his dick presses against my stomach.
“Don’t be a fucking cock tease,” he warns, causing me to drop my eyes from his.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” I glimpse up and he leans down, placing a kiss on my lips.
“This,” he whispers, softly tickling my skin, “is the first night we get to enjoy each other, and I am going to relish every fucking touch.”
He kisses me again, deeper this time, his tongue invading my mouth.
His arms move around my back, keeping me pinned to him.
Up close, he’s all muscle, rock-solid against the softness of my breasts and curves.
One hand moves to my hair while his other remains on my ass.
“Do you feel that?” he asks. “My dick is screaming to be inside you. I’m fit to burst, and you aren’t even naked yet.”
“Neither are you,” I point out.
“True.” He releases me and steps back, then lifts the t-shirt over his head.
I’ve seen him shirtless briefly before, but up close, fuck, I can’t wait to touch him.