Page 25 of Bound to the Guard

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Damien leans in and brushes his lips over mine, feather-light at first. The sensation sends tingles racing through me, and I rest my hands on his chest, leaning forward.

He does it again, lingering this time, his mouth moving in gentle nips and sucks. I tentatively respond, unsure but eager.

Damien coaxes my lips apart with gentle pressure, and his tongue dips inside, exploring and tasting. A soft moan escapes. The flavor of coffee and cinnamon fills my mouth, warm and intoxicating. I forget to be afraid, forget the disgust other Alphas heaped on me, forget everything but Damien’s kiss.

When we break apart, heat flushes my face, and my lips tingle, damp from our kiss as I pant.

Tenderness softens Damien’s expression. “Was that your first real kiss?”

My flush deepens. “Yes.”

His nostrils flare, and his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip. “What did you think?”

“I liked it.” My hands tremble on his chest. “I can really touch you?”

His arm flexes around my hip. “Wherever you want.”

Biting my lip, I skim my fingertips over his pecs, his muscles firm through his shirt. I trace over his shoulders and biceps, marveling at his strength. All the while, Damien sits still, letting me explore at my pace.

“That’s it, Seven,” he purrs. “Get to know my body. I’m all yours.”

My stomach flutters at the patient way he guides me through these firsts, like no Alpha I’ve known before. Spurred on by a burst of courage, I lean in to initiate another kiss, deeper this time.

I lose myself in his touch, his scent, his taste, awash in pure sensation. Right now, I’m not thinking about the past or the future. Only this moment exists, Damien and I together. And it’s perfect.

Damien groans in appreciation, and he tugs me closer, his erection pressing against me, hot and insistent.

My cheeks burn as I let my hand drift lower, tracing over the hard ridges of his stomach, bump over his waistband, and find the hard ridge of his cock through his pants.

I pause at his fly, unsure if his invitation extends this far.

Not breaking the kiss, Damien’s hand covers mine, drawing my fingers to his zipper in silent permission.

A whine sticks in my throat as I kiss him deeper, sucking his tongue into my mouth, my fingers fumbling to unbutton and unzip his pants. Soft cotton boxers tent out of the opening, and I burrow my hand under the elastic band at his waist. Hot flesh fills my grasp, long and thick.

I wrap my fingers around him, marveling at the velvety texture of his skin over rigid steel. He’s so big in my palm that my small hand can’t close around him.

Slowly at first, I stroke him, my movements measured but gaining confidence with each moan he utters. My other handrests on his stomach, the muscles contracting beneath my touch as I bring him closer and closer to the edge.

“Seven,” he gasps against my lips, his breathing ragged. “Oh, fuck, that’s…so good…”

His pleasure spurs me on, filling me with a sense of power. I made him moan like this. I pick up the pace, the sensation mind-numbingly good.

“Can I touch you, too?” Damien asks, his voice thick with lust.

My heart kicks with trepidation because, even though my body vibrates with pleasure, I’m not hard.

Damien’s hand covers the top of my thigh. “Seven?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Touch me.”

As I continue to stroke Damien, he explores my body, his callused hands roaming over my waist and chest, sending shivers through me. His fingers slip beneath my shirt, trailing along my sensitive skin. When he tweaks my nipples, I gasp, my back arching. The sensations are new and electrifying, but frustratingly, I still don’t harden.

Damien’s hand drifts lower toward my pants, and I stiffen.

He freezes, and I know what must be going through his mind. I’m broken. Worthless. But I don’t want to be that Omega anymore. I want to feel good. Ideserveto feel good.

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