Page 51 of Pleasure Payback

‘Is this what you want, Neve? To sit on my face?’ he asked gutturally.

‘Yes.Oui,’ I breathed.

Rough hands clamped onto my thighs. ‘Hold on tight,’ he advised, then drew me down to meet his lips.

In a flash I was back at breaking point, this time with my arousal sharpened by a secret fantasy brought to life and at the point of fulfilment.

Wracked in pleasure, I threw my head back and flagrantly rode Damian’s lips. His groans grew thicker and more urgent as I soared towards my climax.

‘Look at me, Neve,’ he instructed gruffly.

Heart hammering, I met his turbulent hazel gaze, and, amazingly, that searing connection tossed another layer of pleasure onto the already blazing fire, as I watched Damian eat my pussy with unfettered eagerness, his growls of pleasure shoving me over the edge.

With a scream, I tumbled headlong into orgasm. White-hot stars exploded across my vision, my body gripped with uncontrollable shudders as I came with a force I’d never known before.

I was vaguely aware that he was supporting my weight as I helplessly convulsed above him. At some point, my back reconnected with the chaise and gentle kisses drifted over my face even as a litany of French words drifted over me.

Dear God, Damian Mortimer speaks French.

I should’ve been disgusted by the man’s accomplishments but he’d just given me my best orgasm yet. Complaining felt petty.

Still drifting on a sea of bliss, I sighed as he rolled my stockings down my legs. When he lifted me up, I opened heavy, sated eyelids to watch him walk purposely towards the bed.

He set me down long enough to pull back the bedspread and toss away a few excess pillows before placing me in the centre of the king-sized bed.

My languor evaporated and renewed hunger spiked as I watched him unbutton his shirt and shrug it off.

His trousers quickly followed and the sight I’d yearned for while quietly hating myself for two long years, the sight of a naked, gorgeous Damian, was exposed to me. A thick sound left my throat. His gaze dropped to my hands and I realised I was clutching the bedspread in an unguarded reaction to the sight of his body.

‘Christ, you’re so fucking sexy. You’re not even touching me and I’m ready to explode.’

Intoxicated by his rabid stare, I drew my hands up my body, cupped my breasts and teased my nipples.

‘Fucking hell, Neve. What the hell are you doing?’

WhatwasI doing?

Supposedly driving him to the brink. And yet here I was riding the edge with him. Wasn’t there a saying about revenge and digging two graves? Was I in danger of falling into the same pit I was creating for him?

I pushed the thoughts away. This afternoon, when he’d spoken about his parents, I’d made the mistake of feeling sorry for him. Until he’d harshly turned on me.

Whatever lurked in his past had moulded him into a hardened, cynical man who felt no qualms about the cruelty he spread around. Worse, he’d happily closed himself off from any sort of emotion, preferring to exist as an entity unto himself.

I would be foolish to give into empathetic emotions.

This was about sex. Nothing else.

‘If you want the torture to stop then come here and stop it.’

He toed off his shoes and socks, grabbed a stack of condoms from his trousers before shucking them off.

About to rip one condom open, I reached for it and set it to one side. I wasn’t ready to have him inside me. Not until I’d tasted him as thoroughly as he’d tasted me.

Hunger building, I crawled to the edge of the bed and crooked my finger. Two long strides brought him within touching distance.

My gaze rested on his gorgeous face, his square jaw, the sensual lips reddened by his sublime oral dexterity. The hard six-pack beautifully delineating his stomach made my mouth water as I took in the V grooves bracketing his hips, dovetailing to his thick, beautiful erection.

‘I want to suck your cock,’ I blurted. ‘Damn, I wish I could say that in French.’

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