Page 143 of Sexting the Boss

He moves slowly at first, exploring, teasing, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until my breath comes in shallow, stuttered gasps.

Desperate for more, I tilt my hips, meeting his mouth.

He complies, pressing in deeper, sucking softly, then firmer, the wet sounds filling the room.

My nails rake across his scalp as I struggle not to fall apart too quickly. But it’s impossible—my body tenses, heat blooming in a heady rush, and I let out a strangled cry.

He doesn’t stop, only intensifies his rhythm, mouth working my clit until I can’t hold back. With a gasping moan, I shatter under him, pleasure rolling through me in deep, pulsing waves.

He stays there, guiding me through the aftershocks, tongue gentling until I’m left breathless and limp against the sheets. Slowly, he eases off, planting a final, tender kiss to my inner thigh before looking up, lips glistening, hair thoroughly disheveled from my grip.

He crawls up my body, pressing his weight against me, pinning me to the mattress in the most intoxicating way, and captures my lips in a kiss where I can taste myself.

Damien groans softly into my mouth, one large hand gripping my hip to keep me pinned beneath him. In the low lamp glow, his silver-streaked hair looks wild.

A trembling, hungry kind of eagerness coils in my belly. My heart thunders. We’ve done this before, but not like this—so much anger, so much need, tangled into a single desperate moment.

My thighs fall open to cradle him, and I feel him, hot and hard against my inner thigh. A shiver runs through me, and I instinctively arch up, searching for more contact. My body answers before my brain can form words.

He shifts again, lips leaving mine in a trail of kisses down my jaw, nipping lightly at the curve of my neck. I gasp and tangle my fingers in his hair, trying to guide him where I need him.

Then he presses down, and I moan at the sensation. There’s no missing how thick he is, how ready. Part of me still marvels at the sheer size of him—long, thick, veined, straining against my stomach when he grinds closer. Even in the haze of lust, I remember the first time I saw him, how his cock took my breath away—so much bigger than anything I’d imagined, enough to make me tremble with both excitement and nerves.

And somehow, I want it even more now.

He draws back just enough for me to see him, his gaze flicking down to where our bodies meet, then back up to my face.

I reach between us, hand slipping over the hot, rigid length of him. Damien’s head falls forward, a hiss breaking from his lips, and I feel the throb of his pulse under my fingertips. Carefully, I guide him to my entrance, lining him up, breath catching in my throat as he nudges against my pussy.

He presses forward a fraction, and I suck in a sharp breath, toes curling. The burn is sweet, the stretch unmistakable. My voice trembles as I whisper, “Damien…” It’s half plea, half prayer.

He holds my gaze, something pained and primal flickering across his features. “Sasha…” he rasps, voice nearly cracking with emotion and lust. Slowly, inexorably, he pushes deeper, swallowing my gasping cry with a bruising kiss. My nails scrape his shoulders, struggling to cling to him as the pressure mounts.

A flush of heat rolls through me as his pelvis meets mine, and I realize with a heady rush that he’s fully seated inside me.

For a moment, we just breathe, chests rising and falling in unison. The room spins, and all I can focus on is the profound fullness, the way my heart hammers in my ribs like it’s trying to match his.

“Fuck, you were made just for me,” he says as he starts to move inside me.

My mind has no room for anything else—just Damien’s hard, insistent thrusts, his whispered curses against my lips, the hot press of his chest on mine.

He adjusts his angle, and I cry out softly at the rush of pleasure that crackles up my spine.

Damien murmurs my name like a curse, or a prayer, his grip firm on my thigh as he tilts my hips. I answer by arching up, meeting each thrust, eyes fluttering shut when he leans in to kiss along my neck. A gasp breaks from my throat—he’s found that spot that makes me lose my mind, right near my pulse.

I tug at his hair, silver strands gleaming in the dim light. He lets out a low groan, hips stuttering for a moment. The intimacy of that sound sends a wave of warmth through me.

No one has ever made me feel like this—out of control yet more alive than I’ve ever been.

We move together in frenzied sync, bodies slick and glowing with sweat, the sheets tangling around our legs. I brace my hands on his shoulders, and he grits his teeth, pumping into me with a slow, punishing force that leaves sparks dancing behind my eyes.

It’s then—amid the heady swirl of sensation—that it hits me like a thunderbolt:I’m in love with him.

I’m in love with a man I barely know, who turns my life upside down, who rips me away from everything comfortable and safe. I’m in love with a man who can’t stop dominating every space he enters, who’s older and more dangerous than any man I’ve met. And yet, here I am, wrapping my legs around his waist, craving more, surrendering to a truth I can’t take back.

I don’t say it aloud. I couldn’t even form the words if I tried. But the knowledge throbs through me, fueling each dizzying thrust.

Damien presses his forehead to mine, our ragged breaths mingling. I feel the tension coil in my belly again, wound so tight I can barely breathe. My nails rake down his back, and he curses in a low, broken voice.

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