Chapter 15
The ceiling fan spins in slow circles above me, its rhythmic whisper the only sound in the darkness of my bedroom. I lie on my back, covers twisted around my legs, staring into the shadows that dance across the ceiling.
Three hours.
It’s been three hours since Damon and I stood in the kitchen, so close I could count the flecks of gold in his otherwise dark eyes.
My fingers drift upward, tracing the outline of my lips, as if they still feel the ghost of his proximity.
We didn’t kiss, but we might as well have.
The space between our mouths had been charged with electricity, unspoken words, and unfulfilled promises.
His minty breath had been warm against my cheek, making my stomach clench, and my thighs press together.
I close my eyes, letting the memory wash over me again. His eyes darkened when he leaned in, and his gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth and back again. As confident as he is, there was a slight tremble in his breath as his lips drew toward mine, stopping mere inches before they touched.
We both know that’s not true.
His words echo in my mind, and I shiver at the confession despite the warmth of the room. My fingers continue their exploration, pressing slightly, imagining it’s his touch on my lips instead. My mouth parts slightly, a soft sigh escaping into the darkness.
What if he hadn’t stopped?
What if his lips had met mine?
What could have been flits through my thoughts so vividly that it feels real. Like I’m reliving and creating what would have happened had we not been interrupted.
Damon’s fingers brush against my cheek, and I lean into his touch, like a flower turning toward the sun.
His thumb traces the line of my jaw, sending sparks through my entire body.
My hands, which had been frozen at my sides, now rest against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heart beats beneath my palms, faster than normal.
His thumb drags over my lower lip as he whispers my name, “Mackenzi…” I feel it blow against my skin as he closes the breath of the remaining distance between us.
When his lips meet mine, it’s soft and tentative, as though he’s making sure I want this as badly as he does.
I press closer, deepening the kiss as his other hand cups the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.
The kiss grows more passionate and demanding.
His tongue traces my lower lip, seeking entrance, which I grant him willingly.
Our tongues dance as he explores, claiming every inch of my mouth until he’s swallowing my moans.
My hands slide from his chest to his shoulders, and my fingers tighten around the firm swell of his muscles as I pull him even closer.
His lips not leaving mine, he leads me through the house, up the stairs, and to my room.
He crawls onto the bed over me, the moonlight streaming through the window casting us in silver and shadow.
Damon hovers above me, supporting his weight on his arms as he looks down at me. His eyes are dark with desire, and his lips swollen from our kiss. “You’re beautiful,” he vows, and the way he says it sends a fresh wave of desire through me.
His hands begin to explore my body, tracing the curve of my waist and the swell of my hips.
My skin tingles everywhere he touches, coming alive under his ministrations.
His fingers find the hem of my nightshirt, slipping beneath it to stroke the sensitive skin of my stomach.
I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for.
Though he knows exactly what I want. His hands move upward, cupping my breasts as his thumbs brush against my nipples, both hardening instantly at his touch.
I gasp, my back arching off the bed. He lowers his head, capturing one nipple through the fabric of my shirt.
The sensation is exquisite—too much and not enough all at once.
My hands roam over the broad expanse of his back, my fingers exploring the hard plane and the muscles of his shoulders.
After peeling off his shirt, his mouth returns to mine, kissing me deeply as our hands continue their exploration.
I trace the lines of the ink swirling on his skin, feeling the way his body responds to my touch, while his slides down my side.
His palm glides over my hip and to my inner thigh. He strokes the sensitive skin, moving higher with each pass. My legs part instinctively, inviting him where I want him. His fingers dust against my pussy, and I lift my hips, silently begging for more.
He drags his hand down my thigh toward my knee, spreading my legs wider with every inch he travels.
When he glides back up, he doesn’t stop, finding me wet and ready for him.
He explores me gently, learning my body, discovering what makes me gasp and what makes me moan.
His finger circles my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive me wild.
I buck against his hand, seeking more friction, needing more sensation.
“Damon.” His name is a breathy plea quivering over my lips.
He responds by running his fingers around my entrance, teasing my neediness without penetrating, driving me wild with anticipation.
His thumb continues to work my clit, creating a symphony of sensation that builds deep within.
My hips move to meet his touch, wanting more and trying to draw him inside me.
My own fingers work industriously between my thighs as I fantasize about things I’ve never wanted this badly before.
I mimic what I imagine Damon doing to me.
Circling my clit, I apply pressure as the tension builds within me.
One finger slides around my entrance, but not entering, moving in the same teasing rhythm Damon is using.
Damon’s fingers work me with expert precision.
His thumb presses against my clit, rubbing in firm motions while his index finger continues to circle my unexplored entrance.
He varies the pressure, sometimes barely touching me and others pressing hard enough to make me gasp.
As the teasing reaches the edge of pleasurable torture, he slides the tip of his finger inside, stretching me slightly before withdrawing it again, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
My own fingers work faster and harder until I’m teetering on the brink of release. My hips lift off the bed, and my back arches.
Damon looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire as he continues his ministrations. “Come for me, trouble,” he whispers against my skin.
I’m my own undoing. The tension that has been building within me finally snaps, and I’m thrown into a vortex of pleasure.
“Damon!” I cry out, his name tearing from my throat as my orgasm overtakes me.
“Oh God, Damon!” Waves of ecstasy wash over me, starting deep within and radiating outward until every cell in my body is singing with sensation.
My fingers work frantically, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible.