14. Luci
Luci
The carnival music outside faded to a distant hum.
My fingers closed around the ringmaster hat, the weight of it both foreign and thrilling in my hands. I plopped it onto her head at a jaunty angle and looked up at Damien as a slow, bold smile spread across my lips.
“What was that about next time?” I teased, my voice low and sultry.
A sharp thrill ran through me as I swayed my hips, feeling a rush of empowerment flood my veins.
The dim light caught my silhouette, and I noticed the way he watched me, eyes dark with need and something else - admiration, maybe?
This wasn’t just a game anymore. I was in control… and I fucking liked it.
Without a word, I dropped to my knees, my fingers tracing the line of his pants, the heat pulsing between them. The moment stretched, electric and intimate, as I leaned forward, letting desire guide my hands.
Damien’s breath caught in his throat as my fingers worked at his belt buckle. The hat slipped slightly on my head, casting a shadow across my eyes.
"Careful, little bird" he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "That's not exactly part of the carnival act."
I glanced up at him through my lashes, a wicked smile playing on my lips. "Maybe it should be."
My confidence surprised even myself. I wasn’t scared of much.
I used a Ouija board for the first time when I was eleven.
I’ve put myself in situations that would make some grown men pee their pants.
But, flirting?! Being sexy?! Not my expertise.
Most men liked the idea of me. The untouchable, horror girl.
I can’t tell you how many horrible first dates I’ve had that led to nothing because they assumed I was into some really freaky shit.
As a woman into the less conventional things in life, I don’t tend to yuck anyone’s yum, but the shit I’ve been asked to do sometimes teeters on inhumane.
Truth be told, it left me a little self-conscious when it came to men. But there was just something about wearing his hat, about the way the velvet felt against my skin, that made me bolder than I’ve ever been. The power dynamic had shifted, and I reveled in it.
Damien’s hand moved down to cup my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "You're playing a dangerous game," he whispered, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
"Maybe I like danger," I replied, my breath quickening.
I let my fingers trail down, undoing buttons, the anticipation building like an electric current between us. Every touch was a promise, every glance an unspoken challenge. Damien's breath hitched, a sharp intake that sent a thrill through me.
My fingers fumbled with the clasp, finally freeing him. I looked up at him, eyes blazing with boldness and a touch of mischief. "Ready for the show, Damien?" I whispered.
He smirked, the kind of smirk that promised both pleasure and surrender.
Then, with reverence and fire, I began. As my mouth and hands explored, the vintage tent around us faded into a blur of sensation and shadow.
The scent of him filled my senses, musky and primal, as I took him deeper.
His fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding but savoring the connection between us.
A low moan escaped his throat, vibrating through me.
"Such a good girl," he praised, his voice strained as I swirled my tongue.
I pulled back just enough to look up at him, before taking him again, my rhythm deliberate and teasing.
“That’s it, baby,” he said. His control was slipping, his breathing growing ragged. “I’m… I’m gonna come.”
After he released, he reached down and pulled me up, our bodies colliding. Damien’s hands moved to my waist, then found the buttons of my shorts.
Slowly, deliberately, I shook my head and pressed my palm against his chest, pushing him backward until the backs of his legs hit a red velvet settee. He sank onto it with a gasp, eyes wide and dark with desire.
My fingers teased the three buttons free one by one, each reveal a silent promise.
Then, I shimmied out of the fishnets. My jacket, shirt, and bra followed after, leaving me stark naked, with the exception of his ringmaster hat in front of him.
Damien's breath hitched, his eyes trailing every inch of my exposed skin.
His lips parted, his desire unmistakable, raw and hungry.
I fed off the heat in his gaze. My fingers glided over the soft curve of my ribs as I moved closer, the air thick with electric tension and unspoken challenge.
Damien reached for me, but I stepped back just beyond his grasp.
"You're teasing me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.
My palms skimmed the hard plane of his chest before I settled over him, my weight pressing down in a way that sent a jolt through my veins.
His hands found my waist, fingers splayed, thumbs tracing the ridges of my ribs with a pressure that was just shy of too much.
Heat radiated from his skin, seeping into mine.
I leaned back, arching my spine to position myself over him, the delicious stretch when he entered me was enough to make me cry out in ecstasy.
Damien’s hands gripped my hips with such a possessiveness it made my breath stutter. I started to move, hips circling in a rhythm that pushed him deeper with each pass. His breath hitched against my collarbone, warm and uneven.
“God, Luci,” he murmured, lips grazing the slope of my shoulder. “You’re fucking killing me.”
At that, I rolled my hips in a slow, deliberate motion that drew a groan from deep in his chest. His fingers dug into my flesh as I continued to rock against him, the friction building a heat that threatened to consume us both.
I leaned in, my mouth brushing the sharp line of his jaw.
Pleasure wound tighter, a spring about to snap, until it did, unraveling in waves that left me trembling, my breath hot against his neck.
Damien locked his arms around me as he followed, our bodies crashing down together from a high I feared I may chase after for the rest of my life.