Page 88 of Remembering Passion

I couldn’t think about his idea—about marriage—but I could do my best to make him forget for only a moment or two about his father and company. My head rolled back as his kisses lowered down my neck and in the V of my blouse.

This was what I could do.

I’d been right earlier when I’d implied that Damien could be an ass. He could. That was a personality trait I was used to. Damien Sinclair was invincible. He took a risk with the propanolamine and made Sinclair Pharmaceuticals relevant. Confidence radiated off him in waves, washing others away.

That was probably why Mr. Ayers and Mr. Welsh had their issues. Damien was younger, and he’d accomplished great things.

Hearing the uncertainty in his tone made my chest ache.

As goosebumps scattered over my flesh, Damien began unfastening the front of my slacks. Not to be outdone, I lifted his sweater over his head and ran my fingers over his toned chest. My slacks fell to my ankles.

His gaze gleamed as he crouched down, dragging my panties down my legs. Placing his nose near my core, Damien inhaled. “You smell so sweet. I need to be inside you.”

“I want you there.”

In the hands of a master, I was putty, sitting on the revolving table, waiting to be molded. With my hands on the mattress, Damien spread my legs. I gasped as he separated my folds and plunged his finger deep within me.

“I love how wet you are.” He laid his hand on my back. “Don’t move. I want to fuck you from behind.” This time he used two fingers, stretching me. “Your tight cunt is crying with need.”

I heard the zipper of his blue jeans only moments before I felt his hard cock as he leaned over me. “Tell me what you want, Ella.”

“You.” My core clenched at the loss of his fingers.

I screamed as his hand landed on my ass. Like a lightning strike from my ass to my core, I felt myself grow even wetter. I bit my lip as his hand landed again and again. With each strike, my nipples hardened and my pussy clenched.

There were no more thoughts of his proposal as my wanton need consumed my rational thinking.

“Please, Damien.”

“Your red ass is fucking gorgeous.”

“Fuck me.”

I didn’t need to ask twice.

He delved deep inside me, filling me and stretching me.

As the flames of our passion singed my skin, his hands were all that kept me from falling forward as he pounded, his body slapping against mine. The build within me was instantaneous as synapse after synapse exploded through my nervous system. My entire body tensed like a wire that was stretched farther than it was meant to be. The implosion was inevitable as my pussy convulsed, the epicenter of my undoing. Shock waves radiated in every direction.

The hotel room filled with Damien’s deep roar as he too reached his precipice.

I fell forward on the bed, breaking our connection. My breasts rose and fell as I tried to catch my breath.

Damien lifted me in his strong arms and laid me on the mattress, only to follow to my side and cradle me against his warm chest. “That wasn’t planned.”

“Impromptu afternoon sex is never a bad thing,” I said, running my finger over his cheek and basking in his desire-filled stare.

“What if I could add that to my proposal?”

“I’d want it in writing.”

He lifted my chin and brushed his lips with mine. “I have never lied to you. I was serious when I told you that I planned to propose in Aruba.” He motioned between us. “I’m not some random stranger. Consider what I said.” He smiled. “I can come up with a more romantic proposal, then give me five months to prove to you it was the right decision.”

“And secure your place with Sinclair.”

“Multitasking.”

Gabriella

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