Page 19 of Remembering Passion

Smearing my essence, he kept moving his cock from front to back and back to front, not penetrating. With each pass, my nerves electrified, detonations sparking from my scalp to my toes. I was so tuned into his movements, I forgot to answer.

A slap of my ass cheek stung, pulling me back to our conversation.

“I asked you a question,” he growled.

“Yes. I haven’t…I don’t…”

He was doing that thing again, up and down, forward and backward. So close to where I wanted him and yet not there. I pushed back, wanting what he had. My nipples grew impossibly harder and my foot on the sill began to bounce when all at once, Damien filled my pussy from behind.

I cried out as my entire being imploded. Falling forward, my cheek and breasts collided with the cool window. In one thrust—one deep thrust—I was coming, my core spasming around his huge cock.

His strong arm snaked around my waist kept me from falling to the floor or maybe from the height of the window to the ground below. With his chest to my back, Damien picked me back up, thrust after thrust, sparking nerves that by all rights should be burnt out.

Higher and higher, he took me. The suite filled with the slapping of his body against mine. It wasn’t one-sided—I too was in the rhythm. His breathing labored as I once again found myself at the precipice. It was as his hand found my clit that we both jumped into the bliss.

His heart pounded against my back and his breaths were heavy in my ears. As our breathing slowed, Damien tugged my leg, lowering my foot to the ground and with us still connected, he spoke. The words rumbled from him to me.

“Were you imagining that all of Los Angeles could see us?”

I shook my head. “I was distracted.”

His fingers splayed on my stomach. “Look out there.”

I did, seeing the skyscape, the buildings, the lights, the cars moving on the streets far below.

“Lean your head back.”

I complied as his hand lowered.

“They can see how fucking gorgeous you are, Ella.” His fingers began a slow and steady rhythm circling my clit. “They want to see more. They want to see you come again. This is Los Angeles. Movie stars live here, and they’re all enthralled with what they’re watching.”

It was nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Because as his fingers worked, his cock hardened within me. Small thrusts caused me to gasp.

“You don’t want to disappoint our audience.”

It was impossible for me to come again, and yet there I was… “Damien…”

He held me to his chest as the orgasm shuddered through me. Once it was done, he took a step back. I immediately felt the loss and emptiness. It was the familiar need to be close to him—the sensation I only truly existed when connected to Damien.

That realization, that thought, scared the shit out of me.

Spinning, I looked up at Damien as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me to him, his still-erect penis probing my stomach.

“I can’t do this.”

His lips quirked. “You’ve done it five times. Maybe you just need a moment to rest.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Lowering his head, he kissed my forehead. “You said one night. The night isn’t over.”

“I said one time and it’s been…” I swayed. “…six.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I feigned a smile. “Thank you for your help at the elevator.” He’d said I wouldn’t lie, but what if that was the only way to save myself?

If it was, I had to do it.

“You could have taken care of them, just like you could take care of Mr. Phillips.”

“Walter Phillips is a flirt. Those guys were—”

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