I melted against his touch, eyelids fluttering. “You are still supposed to clean me off first, remember?”
Damon growled. He actually growled, then he scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom. He made me feel small and weightless against his huge frame.
Holding me to him with one hand, Damon reached into the shower and turned on the water. He set me down on my feet and pushed my backside against the tall glass frame of the shower.
He looked possessed. None of the reserved, grumpy distance was there. The only thing I saw in his eyes was need, and I found myself desperately wanting to fill that need. I just had to try not to think about how I was undoubtedly setting myself up for disappointment. This was going to be a one-time thing. A one off. I had to believe that, because believing anything else would be naïve.
“Why are your panties still on?” Damon asked between kisses he planted on my neck. Apparently, he had no issue with the fact that I was a sweaty mess. Combined with the whole sports bra sniffing thing, I found it hot in an animalistic sort of way.
“Because you started grabbing my pussy and then picked me up before I could take them off?”
“Smartass,” he said, cupping my chin. He studied my lips, then took them in his, greedily kissing me.
I let my eyelids slide shut and fell into the kiss. It was like floating in a dark sky full of bursting fireworks. I could practically see the brightly colored smoke drifting around us, feel the thump of the explosions in the heavy beats of my heart.
It was right.
It was perfect.
It was everything.
And it couldn’t last.
Stop thinking like that, Chelsea. I kissed him back, wishing all the glowy warmth in my stomach would stop sending stupid ideas to my brain. Just sex. It was just sex. If I played that on repeat enough times, I could make it true.
He kiss-walked me backward into the water, even though I still had my underwear on. Hot, steaming water splashed over his shoulders to puddle between our joined chests.
“I don’t want to get hurt,” I said quietly, words lost in the hiss of the shower head.
I shoved my doubts into a deep, dark closet and kissed him again. I reached between his legs and gripped his impossibly thick length. It seemed even bigger than I remembered, and God knew I’d remembered it being big.
“Don’t put this in me until we’re out of the shower and you’re wearing a rubber, okay?” I said. A rubber I’m going to carefully inspect for holes, this time.
“Bossy,” Damon noted just before he took my shoulders and pushed me up against the wall. He held me there with a hand between my breasts, then reached for a bar of soap with his other hand. With a one handed, careful motion, he lathered up and set the bar down.
For the next several minutes, I received the most thorough cleaning any woman has ever received. He slid his soapy hand across my breasts and nipples, drawing gasps from me at almost every caress. He tenderly cleaned my armpits, even when it made me giggle. He moved his hand across my ass, taking himself a generous tour of every available crevice. He also apparently was highly concerned that my clit received a thorough cleaning. What a gentleman.
He took his time, and I couldn’t help feeling like it was the most heartbreakingly loving and tender experience of my sexual life. I wasn’t sure if that was sad, or just a testament to how wildly out of control my physical feelings toward Damon were becoming.
I’d never been much of a blowjob type of person, but I’d also never considered a cock beautiful before now.
Damon’s cock was the Magic Mike of cocks. It worked out, probably had a nightly skincare routine, and looked like it liked all the same movies and shows as me. It was a cock to write love stories about, or… Maybe just a cock I really wanted in my mouth.
He chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Starting to be.” I slowly got to my knees. Damon’s cock twitched in anticipation.
I wrapped my hands around it, noting there was plenty of room for both of them as well as my mouth.
I kissed up his shaft, caressing him with my hands as I did. He moved to lean against the wall. With his head tilted back, he took a handful of my hair. “Fuck, yeah. That’s good.”
“Just good?” I asked. I plunged my head down on him, cupping his velvety head with my tongue and then swirling as my hands pumped in unison.
He let out a satisfied moan. “You feel so fucking good.”
I’d only been doing my thing for a minute or two before he gripped my hair and started using my mouth. He pumped himself into me with wild hunger, but still not roughly in a way that made me feel like I was suffocating or about to gag.
His body started to tense, and I wondered if he was about to spend himself in my mouth. But he pulled back, leaving me to gasp for breath as the head of his penis pulsed inches from my mouth.
“I need to be inside you. Now.”
“Condom,” I said, standing up. “Also, you were technically just inside me. Kind of silly to pull yourself out of me and say something like that.”
“I want your pussy.”
“Right,” I said a little sheepishly. I’d been joking, obviously, but apparently Damon was too focused to take the hint.
He shut off the water, then carried me to the bed without even drying me off. I flopped down on the sheets, immediately feeling the water on my body start to create a wet patch.
Damon towered over me, regal and proud even in complete nudity.
“It’s just sex,” I said when our eyes met.
He finished putting a condom on himself and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
I nodded too. Except I wasn’t so sure I believed it, even though I knew
