Page 17 of Mine to Tease

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Damon moves to stand in front of me and kisses me, soft and gentle. First, on my lips and then my neck. Next, he brings his hands to my waist. Letting his fingers linger on my hips, he teases me. Will he move them lower or higher? The anticipation elicits a moan from me and heightened sensitivity in both areas. He’s warming me up, and once he’s satisfied… He adjusts his grip on me and lifts me, placing me on the countertop. I smile and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me as we continue our kiss. I love the taste of him, the feel of him. And yet, I haven’t truly tasted or felt. In all the ways I’ve come to know him, this is one in which he’s still a stranger.

Just as I slide my hands from behind his neck, down his chest, inching my way closer to the button on his jeans, he swipes them away, pinning my wrists against the countertop. I gasp and he offers me a stern look. The familiar darkness I’ve become so accustomed to has taken over him. It clouds his eyes and intensifies his touch. “Take off your shirt,” he says with a low growl. Before I can reply with a snarky remark about needing my hands for that, he releases my wrists. I suppose I can put off my plans to taste him a bit longer, since I know better than to interrupt his plans for me. I do as he says. Slipping my gray tank top over my shoulders, I sit before him in a pair of medium wash jeans and a nude-colored balconette bra dotted with blue butterflies.

“Hmm, butterflies,” he remarks, offering me a coy smirk. I roll my eyes, remembering his earlier remark about the type of clientele he wanted to avoid. And look at him now, about to have his way with the very type of woman he finds so annoying. It’s then that he returns his attention to my body, taking me in. His eyes follow the lead of his hands as he runs his fingers up my arms and down my torso, grazing over my boobs ever so slightly. I arch my back in response, desperate for more of his touch. His lips lift into a smirk as he notices my eagerness. And yet, I wait patiently for his next command. Needless to say, his effect on me hasn’t worn off yet. In fact, it’s only intensified.

He lowers one of his hands to the waistband of my jeans and lifts the other to my neck. Once more, he brings his lips to my skin, choking me ever so slightly as he kisses me. Only this time his kisses are harder as he sucks and nibbles on my delicate neck. “Ah!” I moan, my lips drawing up into a smile as I imagine the marks he will leave on me.

The first time he left a bruise on me—fingerprints on my thighs—it was like he’d killed someone. He shut down. I had to assure him I was okay, more than okay. I quite like them. They allow me to retrace his touch and relive the moments we share each night before bed—an exception he did allow to the no-touching-myself rule. It took a while to talk him off the ledge, but finally, he accepted my answer, and since then, he doesn’t react as strongly when he sees them on my skin. Although, his reaction has stuck with me and makes me wonder if there’s something about his past he hasn’t shared. Hell, I’m sure we’re both keeping secrets from each other. And yet, I’m so captivated by him in this moment, thoughts of all the things I’ve yet to learn about him last no more than a millisecond.

His mouth on my body is so distracting, I don’t even notice when he reaches around and unhooks my bra until he pulls himself from me and it along with him. He drops it on the floor as his eyes drift down to my exposed breasts and erect nipples. He stares at me so long, so intently, without a word that I start to feel self-conscious. Is something wrong? Has he found another bruise that’s worried him? I look down and examine my flesh, finding nothing abnormal. Although, looking at my own naked skin somehow takes me out of the moment and I find myself starting to blush. I fluff my hair over my shoulders out of instinct, allowing the long strands to hide me from his view.

“Don’t you dare,” he says then.

“But what’s wrong?—?”

“Shh.” He closes the distance between us and lifts his finger to my lips to shush me. Slowly, he uses his other hand to brush my curls away, revealing me to him once more. “Am I not allowed to be captivated by your beauty?” he asks. His words settle my thoughts and cause my cheeks to blush, though, this time for a different reason. Bringing his lips to mine once more, I gasp as his hand finally finds my breast. “Am I not allowed to appreciate your perky little nipples?” He smiles at my response to his touch. As he kisses me, he rolls my nipple between his thumb and index finger. The sensation is so intense, it’s hard for me to continue our kiss. Which, I gather, he likes. Finally, he moves his lips from mine to my neglected breast. While still tormenting my one nipple, he envelops the other in his mouth. Licking and sucking. Sucking and biting. “Am I not allowed to examine my meal before I devour it?”

“Yes,” I breathe, bracing myself against the countertop as Damon’s relentless assault on my chest becomes all-consuming. My breathing increases. My core tightens. My moans are endless. Between my legs is nothing but a slippery mess. I pinch my eyes closed as he alternates between my two most sensitive peaks. “Yes,” I say once more, though this time it’s meant as encouragement rather than an answer to a question.

“Mmm,” Damon moans. “That’s my girl. You like this, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumble. But, as he bites down on me with a bit more force, I correct myself. “Yes.” He likes yes and no answers. It’s another thing I’ve learned about him during our time together. I’m not sure if it’s part of his need for control or he just wants to make sure I’m truly enjoying myself. But it’s a small ask, so I do my best to oblige.

“Good. Because I’m just getting started with you and them.”

“What?” How can this be only the beginning? I’m already soaking through my jeans.

Damon takes a step back and pulls two tiny metal balls from each of his pockets. Has he had those in there the whole time? What are they? They’re smaller than marbles so I know they can’t be for?—

“Most men don’t give the nipples enough attention,” Damon says. “Some women can orgasm from them without any other form of stimulation. And even if you need a little extra assistance, nipple play makes the orgasm all the more intense and easy to attain.” Nipple play? It’s then that Damon reaches forward and places one of the balls on one side of my nipple and one from the other hand on the other. I cry out as they latch into place.

“Magnets?” I ask, though I already know. I can feel their magnetic pull. It’s what allows them to stay attached to me, pressing on either side of my sensitive flesh. They look like piercings. The added weight to them pulls while the invisible string between them presses. I’ve never felt such a sensation. It’s almost painful. Perhaps it is painful, like a stinging pinch you just can’t escape. And yet, as Damon places the other two on my opposite breast and begins massaging them in place, I realize the truth in his earlier claims.

“Poke out your chest. Give me a good view, sweetheart,” he coos, and I do my best to follow his command. Though as he twists one ball on each nipple, prompting the other to move in response, I can hardly remain seated, let alone with an arched back. It hurts but it’s also…

“Ah!” I moan.

“That’s my girl.”

“Damon,” I start.

“Relax, baby bird,” Damon says, bringing his lips to my neck once more as he gives one of my nipples a short break. “Focus on the pleasure, your clit, everything you feel in your nipples, imagine it flowing through your body to your most sensitive spot. Imagine the pleasure coiling in your stomach and then exploding between your legs.”

“Ah!” I cry out, doing just as he says. I love how he talks me through it.

“Cum for me, baby.” And, with his command, I do. Damon keeps his hands on my breasts as I shake with pleasure, offering me stimulation throughout the entire orgasm that makes it feel like it will never end. As I finish, I lean forward and rest my damp forehead against Damon’s shoulder. He quickly removes the magnetic balls, soliciting another cry from me. But, as he wraps his arms around me, the pain subsides. All that’s left is a pool of goo between my legs, my rapidly beating heart, the warmth of his chest, which soothes the tenderness of mine, and a wave of sleepiness, calmness that follows every orgasm.

Damon rubs his hand, softly and slowly, up and down my back. I love the balance we have. Our time together is erotic and yet sensual. Intense yet gentle. I could fall asleep against him right here, right now. But the sound of Brinkley’s collar draws my and Damon’s attention. I turn just in time to see him grab hold of my bra and run across the room with it toward his bed. He plops down on the plush bed, nestled between the fireplace and the French doors, and begins gnawing on the fabric.

“Brinkley!” I call out. Shifting my attention back to Damon, I say, “You owe me a new bra.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand,” Damon says then, handing me my tank top before Brinkley makes it his next victim.

“Very funny,” I say. As I take it, I contemplate what to do with my tank top, deciding to place it on the countertop instead of putting it on. Damon watches me, picking up on the cue.

“Is that a request for round two?” he asks, resting his hands on my thighs.

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