Chapter 12 Emma #2
He fell back onto the bed beside me, confusion flickering across his face.
But a slow, hungry smile spread across mine.
His legs parted as I moved between them, my lips trailing down his chest, his stomach—dragging myself over him until the rigid length of him pressed against my skin. A pause, just where I knew he wanted it most.
Then—
One long lick up the base of him with the flat of my tongue.
His head fell back against the bed with a thud. "Jesus fucking Christ."
A wicked smile curved my lips before they wrapped around him, covering the tip in warmth.
His head snapped up, eyes flying wide. "Oh—"
I savored it. Watching him watch me as I pulled back. My tongue circled the thick head of him, swirling, playing. He tangled gentle fingers in my hair—a stark contrast to the tension coiled in his body.
His pupils dilated, mouth parting as my tongue flattened against the vein along the underside of him, dragging up in one tantalizing stroke.
"Yes," he groaned, chest heaving. "Just like that."
A feline grin spread across my lips as liquid pooled between my thighs. Our eyes locked—and I descended in earnest, taking him into my mouth inch by inch. Past the head, down his shaft, letting him hit the back of my throat before pulling up just as slowly.
A growl broke from him. "Emma."
My name was as much command as plea.
Focus sharpened. My focus dropped as I found my rhythm—one hand cupping his balls, squeezing gently, the other grasping the base of him. My mouth watered, coating him. Both hands moved in unison—tightening, relaxing, gliding.
"Emma." My name again, but this time it broke, hands flying to my scalp, pulling my hair from my face.
Fire lit in my veins. I pressed further, chasing the crack in his voice, the tremble of his hands, the pulse of him.
He grew more insistent, all semblance of control snapping in two—and I reveled in it. His fingers pulled at my hair, urging me deeper, faster. My tongue pressed firmly against the sensitive spot beneath the head.
His legs started to quake. Arms shaking as he gripped the sides of my head, fingers tangled tight. He lifted my head and slammed it back down. The back of my throat gave way, pushing past barriers, my answering groan vibrating against him.
But he needed more, the animal holding me still demanding surrender.
And I gave it freely.
"Swallow for me, love," he growled, his body locking tight.
I loosened, relaxed, fought the urge to choke as he spilled down my throat—thick and hot.
"Fuck!" The word tore out of him, powerful hands still using me, wringing out every last drop.
Slickness pooled between my legs—a throbbing ache that pulsed in time with each burst he let go.
The tension in his muscles eased thrust by thrust, lungs regaining function as he came down from his high.
The taste of him lingered on my tongue. Every ragged breath a small victory.
His hands softened, turning tender once again. A thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a tear his ferocity had drawn from me.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, lifting his head to peer down at me.
Our eyes met again, regret screaming in their depths.
Now that simply wouldn't do.
I licked a deliberate line up the underside of him, luxuriating in the twitches and tremors of too-sensitive skin.
"I—" A stutter as my tongue toyed with the slit at his tip. "Jesus, Emma. I can't fucking talk."
A smile curved my lips. "And who said I wanted you to talk?"
He stilled.
A giggle slipped free before I could stop it—and turned into a cry as he grabbed me, flipping me onto my stomach with sure arms.
His mouth found my ear. "I believe you've forgotten yourself, Ms. Sinclair."
"Oh," I breathed, wiggling against him.
"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth, jerking back.
I laughed.
"Oh, it's funny, is it?"
Then—
Crack.
A cry fell from my lips as his palm landed, the sting blooming bright and immediate.
He leaned back down. "Still think it's funny?"
I paused.
A moment to catalog the damage. The pleasant sting spreading across my skin.
And with absolute certainty, I decided—yes, it was funny.
Or at least I'd pretend it was.
Another laugh, followed by another slap.
A cry tore from me, body writhing beneath him, fighting playfully for release, finding no such luck.
His hand splayed across the back of my head, pressing my face into the covers, black clouding my vision as another crack split the air.
My core heated, back arching—not away but toward. Seeking the spurts of bright pain.
"Don't fuck with me, love," he growled, trailing a finger up my spine. "I'll do this all fucking night if you let me."
Another jolt of impact, this time harder, sending sparks dancing in the blackness. A groan slipped free as my body relaxed, growing languid beneath him.
Crack.
His cock twitched against me, hands tightening in my curls once again.
Crack.
Another twitch. A hitched breath.
Crack.
The sound loud and vibrant in the darkness behind my eyes. Pain splintering into hundreds of pinpoints of need, each one vibrating under my skin, hungry for the next blow.
Crack.
The muscles in my toes unclenched.
Crack.
A guttural growl rumbled from his chest.
Then the bed shifted, his weight dipping the mattress. An arm slid under my hips, pulling me onto my knees, hand still firm against the back of my head.
This time there was no preamble. No adjustment period.
Just Damien's raw, unrestrained need.
He stretched me wide in one smooth thrust before retreating. The beginnings of a punishing rhythm building.
His hand twisted in my hair—a scream tore free as strands pulled loose.
But he didn't stop.
Crack.
The sting followed, sharp against the outside of my hip.
A scream into the bedding, heat flooding through me.
Crack.
Pain and pleasure blurring into one.
Crack.
Too much and not enough. The need for more overwhelming. An arm flung back, searching for him, met with only air.
"Tell me what you want." Damien's rough voice vibrated against my back.
Rambling words spilled out, absorbed by the fabric.
"What was that?" A tease entered his voice, punctuated by another devastating snap of his hips. "I couldn't hear you."
Crack.
A scream, desperation clawing at my throat.
And then movement—pulled by the hand fisting my hair, light blinding as my back met the sweat-slick skin of his chest.
His fingers closed around my throat, catching on the collar that sealed me as his, then squeezed.
Air caught in my lungs, its escape thwarted. He splayed a hand against my stomach, pushing me down as he thrust up into me. A scream tried to form, a cry, but there was no air.
Vision blurred at the edges as my mind spun, threatening to slip under.
Crack.
Another sting of impact, hitting like a defibrillator. Eyes flew wide before rolling back.
This could kill me, I realized, mind growing hazy, lightheaded from lack of air.
His fingers dug deeper into skin.
And I couldn't envision a better way to go out.
The coil inside me ratcheted with each squeeze, each thrust, then spilled over.
My mouth flew open, but no scream followed. Only pleasure—cresting, breaking, flooding through me. My back bowed, searching for more, a silent plea to not loosen his hold until the end.
A dark, jagged laugh brushed my ear. "Did you come for me, love?"
Crack.
"You didn't even ask permission."
Convulsions wracked my body, but he never relented. Pursuing his own release. Pounding up into me, spearing me on his cock as he ripped me apart.
A roar tore from him and he buried himself in me, pulling me down until our bodies were flush. His cock pulsed as he filled me once more.
An unhinged laugh slipped free as his hold on my throat finally eased, his body gone still.
My fingertips trailed along the skin of his arms as he relaxed beneath me.
Satiated. And sufficiently cared for.
But as his breathing steadied beneath me, the questions I hadn't asked crept back in. Nathan. Jennifer. The numbers that didn't add up.
Eventually, I'd have to face them. Tonight, I let myself forget.