Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Bath products from a sponsor. Very expensive. I never let myself use them. I didn’t want to run out and not be able to buy more.”
He pulls back and stares down at me. “Buy the products, baby. I like them. I want you to have what you love. And you don’t need me to buy them, though I’d buy you anything you want for the rest of our lives.”
My heart is filled with love, so much love, and my hand presses to his face. “I know that, but I don’t need you to buy me things. I really, truly just need you.”
“But we can enjoy our success together—what those two kids in the closet became. Together.”
It’s impossible to halt the curve of my lips, and I don’t even try. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I like that.”
“I’m going to show you the world. You need a passport.”
“Show me your world,” I say, suddenly serious, and I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about here and now, and the intimacy between us.
“You are my world,” he assures me, and runs his hands down my body, cups my hips, and curls my pants down to kiss my belly. I quiver beneath his mouth and press to my elbows, staring down at him. “I’m not delicate. I’m not the girl next door anymore, Damion,” I say. “You know that, right?”
“Yes, you are,” he says, snagging my gaze as he licks the spot he’s just kissed. “And I like it. I really fucking like it, Alana. My fantasy come to life over and over and over again.”
I laugh, and he pushes to his knees and pulls off my sneakers, tossing them aside, before dragging my leggings down my legs, and disposing of them. I don’t have on panties for fear they’d show through the thin material, and the heat in his stare says he approves. “Now you,” I urge softly, aware of his eyes on my body, and I like it. I want it. I want him so much that, as he said, it hurts.
The mattress indents, and then he’s standing, a curve to his lips as he reaches for his pants. I like this side of us—playful and happy. Up until now, we’ve been intense, tormented, always afraid of losing each other. And I still fear that loss. I still know something is wrong that he’s not ready to share, but whatever it is, whatever fear we still hold, doesn’t come from within, from our own devices. Our desire and love for one another are no longer a forbidden secret. We’re together, and we both want it that way. This is the Damion I need right now, and he knew that, he knows, the one I grew up with, the one who always found a path through whatever troubled me.
He has always made everything right in my world.
His father has always made everything wrong, but that is a problem for later.
At this very moment, he is standing in front of me and naked, his cock jutted forward, hard and thickly veined, and my teeth scrape my bottom lip. He’s magnificent, all lean muscle and masculine beauty. “Four-year-old me was a really smart girl.”
He laughs his wonderful laugh, and his knees hit the mattress a moment before he’s on top of me, the hard length of him sliding into the oh, so sensitive center of my sex, so close—so very close. His mouth presses a luxurious kiss to mine, short but oh, so drugging. “The problem with no pants is how fucking close I am to being inside you.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because there is so much more I want to do to you.”
“Later,” I whisper. “I really need to feel you inside me.”
“Not yet,” he whispers, his hands cupping my breasts even as he slides lower and begins teasing my nipples with his mouth and his hands—licking, sucking, nipping. “In case you were wondering,” he says when I’m losing my mind from the teasing, “your breasts have been an obsession of mine most of my life.”
My laugh is choked as he moves lower and inches my legs wide, his shoulders settling between my thighs and leaving no doubt where his mouth is headed. But almost as if he’s spoken the words “not yet” all over again, his mouth presses to my belly, his tongue circling my belly button.
“You taste like flowers. I like it.”
“How do flowers taste?”
“Sweet. Very, very sweet.”
His hands stroke my thighs, and he teases me insanely, but he drops back out of the V of my body and eases my legs together, my knees in front of him. He kisses them, watching me as he does. I can’t touch him. I can’t reach him. I can’t feel him where I want to feel him, and it’s driving me insane. And he knows it, damn him.