Chapter 29
The last of the sunset light filters through my bedroom window, casting long shadows across the floor. I’m curled up in the center of my bed, the sheets still rumpled from this morning, the faint, musky scents of Damon and sex clinging to the fabric.
The sound of the front door opening and closing echoes from the foyer, followed by the heavy thud of footsteps on the stairs.
My heart gives a little flutter, a familiar, excited leap.
A moment later, Damon appears in my doorway, still breathing heavily from his run.
His skin is damp with sweat, and his T-shirt is clinging to the sculpted planes of his chest and shoulders.
His dark hair is pulled back into a bun, his face is flushed, and his eyes are bright with a post-run energy that is almost predatory.
He leans against the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over me in slow, possessive perusal. “I need to take a quick shower,” he husks.
After pushing off the doorframe, he disappears into my adjoining bathroom and turns the shower on. A few minutes later, the water turns off. “I’ve been thinking about this morning since I left your room,” he calls out to me, and my breath hitches with anticipation.
He steps from the bathroom naked, his body glistening and his wet hair messily pulled into a bun on the top of his head.
He’s impossible not to stare at—all hard muscle, raw power, and his thick cock hanging heavy and proudly from his body.
He walks toward me, his eyes locked on mine, a dark, hungry fire burning in their depths.
“And I’ve decided the only way to make you understand what I see when I look at you is to show you.”
That’s not the part of this morning I was thinking of.
He takes my hand, his grip firm but tender, and helps me off the bed. His hand not leaving mine, he walks me to the large, full-length mirror beside my closet. “Face it,” he commands, turning me so that I’m staring at my reflection.
He stands behind me, his body is warm and solid against me as he rests his hands on my hips, his thumbs stroking circles on my skin.
Slowly and deliberately, he begins to undress me.
He lifts the hem of my shirt, his fingers brushing against my skin as he pulls it over my head.
It falls to the floor, forgotten. His hands dust down my body and come to rest on my stomach, his palms flat against my skin.
“This stomach,” he whispers, his lips pressing a light, warm kiss to my shoulder. “So soft and perfect for me to hold on to.”
His hands move to the button of my shorts, deftly undoing it before sliding the zipper down.
He pushes the fabric over my hips, his knuckles brushing along my skin, and it pools around my ankles.
I step and kick them aside. “These hips,” he croons, his hands cupping my curves, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin where my thighs meet my torso.
“I’ve been dreaming about them since I first saw you. ”
He reaches around me, his fingers finding the clasp of my bra.
With a soft click, it’s undone, and he slides the straps down my arms, letting it fall to the floor.
My breasts are exposed to the cool air, my nipples instantly pebbling.
“And these tits,” he growls, his hands coming up to palm them, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks.
“So fucking beautiful. I could play with them all day.”
He lowers his head, his lips pressing a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of my neck and shoulder. His hardening cock rests against my lower back.
“This body, trouble… I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve craved it since I met you. And now that I’ve had a taste, I’ll never fucking get enough.”
His hands slide down my body, hooking into the waistband of my panties.
He tantalizingly pulls them down, his fingertips dusting along my thighs, until they join the pile of clothes on the floor.
I’m completely naked, exposed. But I don’t feel vulnerable.
In this moment, I don’t feel shy. The way he’s touching me and talking about me, I feel… worshipped.
He walks around me, his eyes raking over my body before stopping in front of me and kicking my feet apart. He drops to his knees, with his eyes locked on mine, and demands, “Watch me.”
Without breaking our stare, his fingers part the lips of my pussy, exposing the most intimate part of me to him. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick over my pink flesh with deliberate strokes. My eyes flutter closed, my head falling back on a soft gasp.
“Eyes on me,” he commands, his voice a low, firm growl. “You’re going to watch every flick of my tongue until you’re coming on it.”
I force my eyes open, my gaze meeting his as he spreads me wider, his moans vibrating against my sensitive flesh. He licks and sucks at me with a diligence and devotion that is both humbling and incredibly arousing. He’s feasting on me. And watching him do it is almost my undoing.
His hands roam over my body—the parts I’ve always been most insecure about—groaning against my clit as he enjoys them.
My fingers tangle in his wet locks, the strands soft and silky between my fingers.
Using my firm hold, I pull him closer, grinding my hips against his lips, needing more.
He sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, and my thighs begin to tremble, my body struggling to stay standing.
The orgasm that rips through me is sharp and intense, a blinding flash of pleasure that leaves me gasping and trembling. My knees buckle, but he holds me up, his arms wrapping around my thighs, his mouth still working its magic. “That’s Daddy’s good girl,” he praises, kissing over my upper thighs.
After he slowly rises to his feet, he grabs the chair from my desk and drops it before the mirror.
When he takes a seat, with his legs spread, his cock juts proudly from his body.
“You’ve seen how much I love your pussy on my face.
” He pauses to pat his thigh. “Now I want you to watch how fucking beautiful every inch of you is as you ride me.”
He drags me onto his lap until my back is against his chest and my legs are draped over his. He lifts me slightly, positioning himself at my entrance, then slowly lowers me over him. I watch our reflection as my body stretches around his thick, veiny length, the sight taking my breath away.
His lips brush against the shell of my ear, and he asks, “Do you see how greedily your tiny little pussy swallows my cock?”
My eyes are fixed on the mirror, watching the mesmerizing view of our bodies joining.
It’s beautiful, raw, and incredibly arousing.
When he’s fully seated inside me, he firmly grips the loose flesh above my hips, his hands possessive and sure.
He uses his hold to guide me over his length, setting a slow, torturous pace.
My body ripples at his instruction, my ample curves fluttering and my breasts swaying, all with his heated stare trying to take in every bit of me.
“You’re so fucking perfect like this.” His lips trail a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck as he begins to thrust into me, each stroke a deep and deliberate.
He continues to fuck me, with his hands guiding my movements.
His lips worship my neck and shoulders, spewing possessive praise.
He tells me how beautiful I am, how perfect I feel, and how much he loves being inside me.
With each word and thrust, I fall further under his spell.
The mirror becomes a window to a version of myself I never knew existed—a woman who is bold, desired, and unapologetically sexual.
A woman who is watching herself being thoroughly and completely loved.
He increases the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, more demanding. My body moves with his, a perfect, synchronized dance of passion and desire.
“You were fucking made to take my cock, weren’t you?” he growls with a low, possessive rumble that vibrates through my entire body.
“Yes, Daddy,” I breathe, ragged and desperate.
His grip on my hips tightens, and his thrusts become more forceful. “Just mine,” he grits. “Only ever mine.”
“Only yours, Daddy,” I promise on a choked sob of pleasure.
He works me harder and faster over his length, his hips pistoning into me, driving me wild with a pleasure so intense, it borders on pain. I can feel the slickness of my arousal, the evidence of my desire, coating his cock and running down my thighs.
“Your pussy is fucking dripping over me.” He groans his satisfaction. “Do you like watching what a naughty girl you are?”
I can barely manage a breathy “yes” as he pounds into me, his movements becoming more erratic and frenzied. The vision in the mirror is obscene, beautiful, and utterly captivating. My body is flushed, my breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts, and my face a mask of pure ecstasy.
“Good,” he growls, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below my ear. “Because I love showing you.”
He is turned on by the thought of drawing me out of my shell of innocence and into a world of unadulterated pleasure—and I am more than willing to be led.
“I can’t wait for you to learn how much you love to gag on my cock,” he whispers, a dark, delicious promise that makes my pulse pound in my ears. “Or to show you how good it feels to have my cock buried in this big, beautiful ass.”
I watch my own eyes blow wide in my reflection, a mixture of shock and a thrilling, yet terrifying, curiosity.
“I’m going to claim every inch of you,” he continues with a low, possessive growl. “The first and only in all your holes, because they’re mine… just like you’re mine.”
His filthy words, the thought of him taking me everywhere, and the raw, primal possessiveness in his voice all combine to throw us both over the edge.
He drives deep, with one last, powerful thrust that hits that tender spot deep inside me, and I shatter.
The orgasm that rips through me is violent, stealing my breath.
I feel a gush of wetness, and I scream his name as my body convulses around him.
He follows me into euphoria with a guttural roar, his own release hot and thick as he fills me with his cum, his cock throbbing. Our releases mix, a slick, sticky mess that coats his cock and drips from my pussy when he finally pulls from me.
He kisses along my neck, his lips soft and gentle.
“Aren’t you full of surprises?” A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face as he rubs his fingers through the wetness that squirted from me.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, and with his eyes locked on mine in the mirror, as he tastes me.
I can’t help but smile back, a shy, happy smile that feels like it’s been a lifetime in the making.
For a long moment, we just sit there, our bodies slick with sweat and our hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized beat.
I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, a contented sigh escaping my lips.
Damon’s chest rises and falls hard against my back, his breath still uneven as it blows across my skin where his face remains buried between my shoulder blades.
One of his arms is wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me firmly to him like he has no intention of letting me go anytime soon.
Not that I mind.
Damon presses a slow kiss beneath my ear. Then another. His beard scrapes lightly along my skin, sending a lazy shiver through me.
“You still with me, trouble?”
A sleepy smile tugs at my mouth. “Barely.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up, so I can get you to bed.” Before I can protest, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms. I make a soft sound of protest mixed with surprise, instinctively curling closer to him as he carries me toward the bathroom.
“You don’t have to?—”
“Yes,” he says simply, turning on the shower.
Steam fills the bathroom as he walks me into the shower. He sets me down gingerly, his knuckles brushing gently along my cheek as he walks me under the spray of water. I sigh softly as heat soaks into my sore muscles, washing away the sweat and the lingering evidence of our releases.
Damon smiles faintly before working the soap between his hands and smoothing them over my skin. “Turn around for me.” His large hands glide over my shoulders, then down my arms, washing me with care.
“You did good for me tonight, trouble.” His praise sends warmth spiraling through my chest. I don’t think he fully understands what those words do to me. Or maybe he understands perfectly.
His lips brush my forehead as he rinses me clean before reaching for shampoo next, working it gently through my hair while I stand there, half asleep against him.
“No one’s ever taken care of me like this before.”
A fierce intensity settles behind his eyes, and his hand slides gently around the back of my neck. “I couldn’t imagine not taking care of you.”
The water runs cool enough that Damon finally shuts it off despite my quiet protests. He wraps me in one massive towel before grabbing another for himself, drying us both with the same careful attention he’s shown me since carrying me in here.
By the time we step into the bedroom, I’m practically asleep on my feet.
I mumble something unintelligible while climbing beneath the blanket, and the mattress sinks moments later as Damon slides in behind me.
He settles on his back and tugs me halfway across his body until my head rests upon his chest and one of my legs hooks loosely over his.
The steady sound of his heartbeat thrums beneath my cheek, slow and grounding.
Damon’s fingers drift lazily through my damp hair as my eyelids grow unimaginably heavy. And for the first time in my life, I understand how one person can be someone else’s peace.