Page 54 of Pretty When He Bleeds

“You don’t want me to shut up,” he says, his smirk widening. “You love hearing how much I want you.”

I shiver under his touch, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he steps back, his eyes raking over me. The way he looks at me—like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can satisfy him—sends a thrill down my spine.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his hands sliding to my waistband. “And I’m going to fucking mark you so everyone knows.”

Before I can respond, he’s dropping to his knees, his hands tugging at my jeans. I let out a strangled groan as he yanks them down along with my boxers.

“Damon—”

“Shut up,” he mutters, his hands gripping my thighs as he presses his mouth against my hip, his teeth nipping against the piercing. “Let me take care of you.”

I suck in a sharp breath as his tongue flicks over the head of my cock, my hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He doesn’t tease me long, his lips wrapping around me as he takes me into his mouth, his movements fucking filthy.

I groan, my head hitting the door as he works me over with his tongue. His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as he takes me deeper, his mouth hot and wet and perfect.

He smiles around my cock and sinks back down, the glide smoother now, wetter, his jaw flexing as he takes me all the way again. His spit slicks everything, the sound filthy in the best way, and I can feel the tight, warm pull of his throat when he swallows around me.

He pulls back, his lips slick and swollen, and looks up at me with a smirk. “You’re loud, Hotshot. I like it.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, but my words lose their bite when he takes me back into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head before he pulls back with a pop.

“Oh, you love it,” he mutters, standing and pressing his body against mine again. His hands roam over my chest, his thumbs brushing over my nipples before sliding lower, gripping my hips. “And you’re going to love this even more.”

He captures my lips again, his kiss messy and dirty as he walks me backward toward the bed. When the backs of my knees hit the mattress, he pushes me down, standing over me with that wild, possessive gleam in his eyes.

“Get comfortable,” he says as he starts pulling off his shirt. My mouth goes dry as more of his tattoos come into view, the sharp lines and dark ink covering his chest and arms. He tosses the shirt to the floor, his hands moving to his jeans as he watches me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” I mutter, my eyes dragging over the lean, hard lines of his body. He’s fucking gorgeous, and the way he’s looking at me like I’m his next meal makes my pulse race.

“Good,” he says, shoving his jeans and boxers down and kicking them off. “Because I’ve been waiting too goddamn long for this.”

He climbs onto the bed, his hands gripping my knees as he spreads my legs wider. His gaze rakes over me, dark and hungry, and I can feel myself flushing under his scrutiny.

“Good enough to fucking eat,” he murmurs and before I can respond, his tongue flicks over me, teasing at my hole, and I let out a strangled moan, my hips jerking. He holds me down, his hands gripping my thighs as he licks me again, his tongue fucking me slowly.

“Fuck,” I gasp, my hands flying to his hair and tugging hard enough to make him groan. “Damon—”

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against my skin. “I’ve got you.”

He dives back in, his tongue working me open with a precision that makes my head spin. The sounds he’s pulling from me are loud and desperate, and he’s loving every second of it, his low groans vibrating against me as he works.

“Oh, God,” I gasp, my back arching as he pushes his tongue deeper, his grip tightening as he holds me in place. “Damon—fuck, that’s—”

He pulls back just enough to smirk up at me, his lips slick and his eyes dark with lust. “You like that, baby? Like me fucking you with my tongue?”

I can’t even respond, too caught up in the heat and pressure and the filthy words spilling from his mouth. He doesn’t wait for an answer, leaning back in and pushing me closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue.

He groans against me, the sound vibrating through my body, and when his finger slides in alongside his tongue, I nearly lose it.

When he finally pulls back, I’m a trembling mess, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. He reaches for the lube in my nightstand, his movements quick and my pulse spikes as he slicks up his fingers.

“Relax, Hotshot,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my knee as his hand slides between my legs again. “I told you I’ll take good care of you.”

The first finger pushes in slowly and I gasp, my hands gripping the sheets as my body adjusts to the stretch.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters, his voice muffled. “Relax, baby. Let me in.”

The nickname makes my chest tighten, but before I can process it, he adds a second finger, the burn and stretch pulling a moan from my lips.

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