Page 56 of Chosen

He then reached for my thighs, spreading them apart. “I’ll always give you what you want… just not always exactly how you want it.”

Suddenly, Damon’s cock was in between my thighs. At first, it was a strange sensation, since I wasn’t used to anyone fucking anything besides my hole. A few moments later and the strangeness turned into a deep desire, my thighs quivering as he continued to slide his cock between them, his precome a mess against my skin.

“Fuck… Damon… Fuck…” I moaned out his name, my own cock growing harder and harder with his every move. I whimpered again as I felt a familiar wetness sliding down the sides of my shaft, my precome making me into even more of a mess than I already was.

Just then, Damon reached around my waist, his palm wrapping around my desperate cock.

And before I knew it, I was coming for him, his hand only pumping my shaft a few times before I was shivering and shaking underneath him. It was like I couldn’t help myself, the mixture of fear and excitement too intoxicating, the restraints on my wrists and ankles absolutely ruining any restraint I had left when it came to Damon.

“Sorry. Fuck. I didn’t mean to—” I started.

But Damon quietly shushed me, his hand still pumping my much too sensitive cock. “You don’t have to apologize. Doesn’t mean I’m done with you yet, though.”

“But Damon, I’m too…” I whined at the feel of his fingers playing with my tip, spreading my come around my shaft. “It’s too much. I’m too sensitive…”

“Do you really want me to stop?”

“No,” I admitted, as I subtly shook my head. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“That’s what I thought.” Damon let out a light chuckle, his hips beginning to move against me again, steadily fucking my thighs like before. “You’re such a good boy, Sam.”

“Yes, sir…” It was all I said, before I felt myself slide into a pleasurable oblivion, every nerve ending in my body lighting on fire in the very best way as Damon continued to play with me.

As he completely owned every part of me.

* * *

I love you.

The phrase was sitting at the tip of my tongue, as I watched Damon move throughout the living room. He said he was checking on one thing or another, his words turning into a blur as I realized how I really felt about, the thought beating like a drum in my ear. It was hard focusing on anything, like I’d had one too many shots, like I’d just been woken up from a deep, deep sleep.

And yet, the words were repeating over and over in the back of my head.

Should I just blurt it out?

The thought occurred to me as I kept my eyes on him, wondering how he would’ve reacted to the phrase. Best case scenario, he said the same thing back to me and we could live happily ever after. Worst case scenario, he’d tell me that I was just experiencing a post-rope-high, something submissive types typically went through after being dominated so completely.

You’re not in love with me, Sam. You’re in love with the ropes.

I ran a few fingers over my wrists, a slight burn to them after being tied up for so long. It had been delicious torture, being fucked like that for so long but never fucked properly, Damon’s cock never making contact with my bare hole. A part of me wanted to beg him to pound his shaft into me once we were back at the cabin, but the honest truth was that my body was currently exhausted, actual penetration or not.

“Everything okay over there?” Damon asked, a grin on his face. “You look like you’re a little lost in thought.”

“I’m just overthinking. Like always.”

“Hmm. Don’t spend too much time doing that. It has a habit of wrecking things.”

“I know, I know.” I blew out a breath as I reached for my laptop. “I just need to take my mind off it. Distract myself with—what the fuck?”

My eyes went wide as I looked at my laptop screen. There was an email from Anthony, the subject line reading: URGENT – DIVORCE PIECE MOVE UP

“Divorce piece move up?” I whispered under my breath, while clicking on the email. Sure enough, it was exactly my worst nightmare, my heart sinking in my chest as I read through it.

“What is it?” Damon asked as he walked up to me. “What’s wrong?”

“Anthony wants to move up the divorce piece,” I murmured. “He originally set it for a full week from now but now he wants me to press publish in the next 72 hours.”

“Wait. Seriously?” Damon scoffed. “But how could he do that? He knows you just got a bunch of information that you still need to organize, right?”

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