Page 17 of Remembering Passion

“Keep it up,” he said with a smirk. “Be specific, Ms. Crystal. What do you want?”

Prizing my gaze from his, I looked down to where our hands were—where mine were held—to the sight of his cock, springing monstrously thick and hard with each step. Looking back to his stare, I lifted my chin. “I want your cock, Damien. I told you I wanted it.”

“Is that all you want?”

“I could lie.”

“You won’t.” Releasing my wrists, Damien lifted me from the floor, cradling me against his solid chest. “You forget. I know you.”

In the security of his arms, with my hands free, I pushed against the shoulders of his suit coat jacket until it hung on his arms. Barely moving me within his grasp, Damien allowed one sleeve to fall and then the next, his suit coat falling to the floor. As he did, I loosened the knot in his tie and pulled the silk from around his neck. By the time he laid me on the bed, I’d released three buttons on his shirt.

Lying back, I continued my task until the shirt parted, revealing the six-pack of abs I’d also missed. My fingertips skirted over each muscle, sensing the warmth of his skin and definition of his torso. Placing my hand over his pecs, I splayed my fingers. “Your heart is beating fast.”

“It’s because I’m thinking about your request.”

“Undress first,” I said, knowing that disrobing was an issue for him. We’d probably dated for months before I saw him completely nude. He’d seen me. At the time, it seemed sexy and forbidden to be nude while he remained mostly clothed. There was nothing about his naked form that should remain hidden—he could double as a work of art, a Roman statue. Nudity was Damien’s barrier; one he held as a threshold to intimacy.

“Ella,” he said my name with a warning tone.

I scooted up the bed and leaned against the headboard. “Knowing goes both ways.” If asked, I’d admit to the satisfaction coursing through me as Damien kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, his pants, and finally after freeing the cufflinks, removed his shirt. The boxers were the last to go. In only the illumination coming through the large windows, the man before me was the perfect specimen of manhood—a Greek god come to earth.

“That was the last time for the night,” he said as he crawled toward me. From the end of the bed, he appeared as a predator playing with its next meal.

“Last time for what?”

Damien grasped my ankles and pulled me down the mattress.

I gasped as the ceiling became my view.

Lifting my head, I met his stare. “Last of what?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve had your time. Like I said, I enjoyed your power play back at the airport and again here. Now I’m in charge.”

Gabriella

My body quaked and goosebumps scattered over my flesh at Damien’s proclamation.

He’d allowed me to play my cards, giving me the illusion of control. As incredibly turned on as I was while exercising that fantasy, it was nothing compared to the rush of endorphins as Damien spread my knees and crawled between my legs. Goose bumps multiplied when he brought his lips to my stomach. A master at his task or a devil in disguise, Damien knew how to work my body, such as a musician caressing a fine instrument, twisting me tighter and tighter until my strings were taut and about to snap.

Lower down my body, his lips roamed, teasing and taunting.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured a millisecond before his tongue spread my folds and lapped my essence.

At the intrusion, I screamed out his name because no other came to mind. Even my brain knew that Damien was the only man who could bring me this kind of pleasure. My hips tried to buck from the bed, but I was held in place by his strong grasp.

Damien was a man starved as he devoured me, burying his face, spreading my legs farther apart, and teasing my bundle of nerves with his lips and teeth.

My body convulsed and perspiration coated my skin as he drained not one, not two, but three orgasms from me. After the third, Damien kissed his way up my slack body, lingering on my ultra-sensitive breasts before reaching my lips. His tongue danced with mine, sharing my taste as I’d shared his.

“Pick a number between five and ten.”

I opened my eyes wide to his blue stare. The man whose nose was touching mine and whose heated, hardened body was over my own demanded my attention. “A number?” In my defense, my mind was still mush and in recovery mode.

He kissed my nose. “Between five and ten.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know…seven.”

“That’s my greedy girl.” In a flash, he was gone.

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