Anchor Me
Page 14
“True,” I say, then flash a grin. “A boy like Damien Stark. He’ll be a handful.”
Damien laughs and kisses me. “He certainly would.”
I’d changed into a tank top and yoga pants the moment we got back to the hotel, and now his hand slips under the tank, and the sensation of his palm against my bare skin sends shivers through me. Slowly, he eases his hand up my body, tracing the curve of my waist and then grazing over my ribs before cupping my breast. His thumb finds my nipple and begins a gentle, rhythmic caress that has me biting my lower lip as tendrils of wanton heat spread out through my body, firing my senses and making me whimper with longing.
“Nikki.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see the tension in them. An unfamiliar hesitancy that I don’t understand, because when has Damien ever hesitated where I am concerned? He has always been bold, taking what he wants—and what I so willingly give him.
I frown, wanting to ask him what’s wrong, but before I get the chance, his hand abandons my breast to slide back down, so it rests just below my bellybutton. “Is it okay?”
At first, I don’t understand his words, spoken with such sweet tenderness. Then I realize that he’s talking about the baby, and I smile, utterly charmed. I rest my hand on his, then start to ease it down beneath the stretchy waistband of my yoga pants. “Yes, please,” I say sincerely, as a fiery need sparks inside me. “It’s more than okay.”
“You’re sure?”
I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or truly uncertain. “I’m beyond sure,” I promise him. “You. Hormones. I don’t even know. I don’t even care. But please, Damien. Please. I need to feel you inside me. Right now. I need it as desperately as I need to breathe.”
“Do you?” he says, with a deliciously wicked gleam in his eyes. “I think we can do something about that.”
I whimper a bit because the next thing he does is pull his hand out from under the band of my pants, which isn’t exactly the direction I want him to be moving. But then he shifts on the bed until he is straddling me, and his hand is under the hem of my tank top, his palm warm against the curve of my waist.
With wicked slowness, he strokes my skin, the friction and the heat making me crazy. I arch up, my nipples straining against the thin material of my skimpy tank top. “Please,” I beg.
“Please? Please, what?” His palms graze my ribcage until he reaches the swell of my breasts. I whimper, my skin so sensitive now that even a whisper of breath would shoot straight through my core, making me writhe with need.
“Please, yes,” I say. “Please, fast.”
His brow cocks. “Fast? Are you sure?” One thumb lazily teases my nipple as the other hand eases the tank higher until both my breasts are exposed. “Slow has its advantages.”
He lowers his mouth, then teases my areola with his tongue. The sensation is incredible, and I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. Damien, however, is determined to drive me crazy, and while his mouth wreaks havoc above my waist, his fingers trail down, easing inside my pants to cup my sex.
I’m incredibly wet, and he strokes me in slow, gentle movements, never entering me, never teasing my clit. Just building me up. Making me crave. Making me want.
Making me so damn crazy that I arch my back more and gyrate my hips—silently demanding that he do more than just tease my breast and my cunt. I want his teeth on my nipple, his finger on my clit. Mostly, I want his cock inside me.
“Please,” I beg when I can’t stand it anymore. My entire body is on fire, and if he doesn’t fuck me soon I’m going to be reduced to nothing more than cinders.
“Please,” I beg again, only this time I reach down and fumble at the button on his jeans. I manage to get it unfastened, then slip my hand inside the denim. He’s wearing boxers, and I stroke him through the soft cotton, gratified at the low, growling sound in his throat, and the corresponding way that his fingers slip inside me, just enough to tease. To make me want even more.
I ease my hand inside his boxers to find him hard and hot in my hand. He shifts his hips, the movement helping my effort to free him from both boxers and jeans. And as I slowly stroke his cock, he closes his mouth over my breast and sucks, tugging so hard that I feel a corresponding ache in my cunt, and my muscles clench with longing.
“Say it, baby,” he murmurs. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“Yes,” I say. “Please, Damien. Please fuck me. Hard,” I beg. “Fast,” I plead.
He doesn’t make me wait. With one wild motion, he flips me over so fast it leaves me gasping. “On your knees,” he orders as he yanks my yoga pants down, leaving my ass bare and exposed.
My head is down, my tank still bundled above my breasts, now pressed against the cotton sheet. My rear is in the air, and he strokes my ass cheeks. I spread my legs, limited by the fact that the pants are still midway down my thighs. I’m so wet, and when he thrusts two fingers inside of me, I press my face to the mattress and moan.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, bending over so that I feel his weight on my back, and his erection teases me as he whispers in my ear.
“Yes.” My voice is strained, my thoughts little more than need and want. “Please,” I beg. “Please, Damien.”
His tongue teases my ear, and I whimper as he whispers. “Yes, baby. God, yes.”
He’s still wearing the jeans when he enters me, first with shallow teasing thrusts designed to drive me crazy, then more and more until he’s slamming hard inside me, the denim brushing erotically against me as he takes me hard, filling me completely so that I’m gasping, my hands fisted in the sheets, lost in this sensation of being so completely connected with him.
Again and again he thrusts, and my sensitive nipples rub against the sheet, adding to the sensation that my entire body is on fire, lost in an inferno of Damien’s making.
His breathing changes and I can tell he’s close when one of his hands leaves my hips to reach around and tease my clit. “Now, baby,” he says, as an electric current skitters over my entire body, racing to culminate at my core.
I let myself go, surrendering to him, knowing I’d trust him to take me anywhere, and as I let go, the crescendo builds and builds until he repeats, “now,” and everything shatters into an explosion of light and color, and I tremble from the force of it before collapsing into Damien’s embrace, his arms around me holding me tight and guiding my way back to earth.
Damien laughs and kisses me. “He certainly would.”
I’d changed into a tank top and yoga pants the moment we got back to the hotel, and now his hand slips under the tank, and the sensation of his palm against my bare skin sends shivers through me. Slowly, he eases his hand up my body, tracing the curve of my waist and then grazing over my ribs before cupping my breast. His thumb finds my nipple and begins a gentle, rhythmic caress that has me biting my lower lip as tendrils of wanton heat spread out through my body, firing my senses and making me whimper with longing.
“Nikki.”
His eyes meet mine, and I see the tension in them. An unfamiliar hesitancy that I don’t understand, because when has Damien ever hesitated where I am concerned? He has always been bold, taking what he wants—and what I so willingly give him.
I frown, wanting to ask him what’s wrong, but before I get the chance, his hand abandons my breast to slide back down, so it rests just below my bellybutton. “Is it okay?”
At first, I don’t understand his words, spoken with such sweet tenderness. Then I realize that he’s talking about the baby, and I smile, utterly charmed. I rest my hand on his, then start to ease it down beneath the stretchy waistband of my yoga pants. “Yes, please,” I say sincerely, as a fiery need sparks inside me. “It’s more than okay.”
“You’re sure?”
I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or truly uncertain. “I’m beyond sure,” I promise him. “You. Hormones. I don’t even know. I don’t even care. But please, Damien. Please. I need to feel you inside me. Right now. I need it as desperately as I need to breathe.”
“Do you?” he says, with a deliciously wicked gleam in his eyes. “I think we can do something about that.”
I whimper a bit because the next thing he does is pull his hand out from under the band of my pants, which isn’t exactly the direction I want him to be moving. But then he shifts on the bed until he is straddling me, and his hand is under the hem of my tank top, his palm warm against the curve of my waist.
With wicked slowness, he strokes my skin, the friction and the heat making me crazy. I arch up, my nipples straining against the thin material of my skimpy tank top. “Please,” I beg.
“Please? Please, what?” His palms graze my ribcage until he reaches the swell of my breasts. I whimper, my skin so sensitive now that even a whisper of breath would shoot straight through my core, making me writhe with need.
“Please, yes,” I say. “Please, fast.”
His brow cocks. “Fast? Are you sure?” One thumb lazily teases my nipple as the other hand eases the tank higher until both my breasts are exposed. “Slow has its advantages.”
He lowers his mouth, then teases my areola with his tongue. The sensation is incredible, and I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. Damien, however, is determined to drive me crazy, and while his mouth wreaks havoc above my waist, his fingers trail down, easing inside my pants to cup my sex.
I’m incredibly wet, and he strokes me in slow, gentle movements, never entering me, never teasing my clit. Just building me up. Making me crave. Making me want.
Making me so damn crazy that I arch my back more and gyrate my hips—silently demanding that he do more than just tease my breast and my cunt. I want his teeth on my nipple, his finger on my clit. Mostly, I want his cock inside me.
“Please,” I beg when I can’t stand it anymore. My entire body is on fire, and if he doesn’t fuck me soon I’m going to be reduced to nothing more than cinders.
“Please,” I beg again, only this time I reach down and fumble at the button on his jeans. I manage to get it unfastened, then slip my hand inside the denim. He’s wearing boxers, and I stroke him through the soft cotton, gratified at the low, growling sound in his throat, and the corresponding way that his fingers slip inside me, just enough to tease. To make me want even more.
I ease my hand inside his boxers to find him hard and hot in my hand. He shifts his hips, the movement helping my effort to free him from both boxers and jeans. And as I slowly stroke his cock, he closes his mouth over my breast and sucks, tugging so hard that I feel a corresponding ache in my cunt, and my muscles clench with longing.
“Say it, baby,” he murmurs. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“Yes,” I say. “Please, Damien. Please fuck me. Hard,” I beg. “Fast,” I plead.
He doesn’t make me wait. With one wild motion, he flips me over so fast it leaves me gasping. “On your knees,” he orders as he yanks my yoga pants down, leaving my ass bare and exposed.
My head is down, my tank still bundled above my breasts, now pressed against the cotton sheet. My rear is in the air, and he strokes my ass cheeks. I spread my legs, limited by the fact that the pants are still midway down my thighs. I’m so wet, and when he thrusts two fingers inside of me, I press my face to the mattress and moan.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, bending over so that I feel his weight on my back, and his erection teases me as he whispers in my ear.
“Yes.” My voice is strained, my thoughts little more than need and want. “Please,” I beg. “Please, Damien.”
His tongue teases my ear, and I whimper as he whispers. “Yes, baby. God, yes.”
He’s still wearing the jeans when he enters me, first with shallow teasing thrusts designed to drive me crazy, then more and more until he’s slamming hard inside me, the denim brushing erotically against me as he takes me hard, filling me completely so that I’m gasping, my hands fisted in the sheets, lost in this sensation of being so completely connected with him.
Again and again he thrusts, and my sensitive nipples rub against the sheet, adding to the sensation that my entire body is on fire, lost in an inferno of Damien’s making.
His breathing changes and I can tell he’s close when one of his hands leaves my hips to reach around and tease my clit. “Now, baby,” he says, as an electric current skitters over my entire body, racing to culminate at my core.
I let myself go, surrendering to him, knowing I’d trust him to take me anywhere, and as I let go, the crescendo builds and builds until he repeats, “now,” and everything shatters into an explosion of light and color, and I tremble from the force of it before collapsing into Damien’s embrace, his arms around me holding me tight and guiding my way back to earth.
