Page 14 of Vengeful Embers

Then his mouth is on me.

And I come undone all over again.

I grip the sheets, my thighs shaking against Damien’s shoulders as his tongue flicks over my clit. He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, exploring me like he’s memorizing every reaction—every whimper, every hitch of breath, every gasp when his lips suck gently and his tongue presses harder.

“God—Damien…” I pant, hips lifting from the bed.

Damien groans in approval, like hearing his name from my lips, turns him feral.

One of his hands slides up, spreads wide over my stomach, keeping me still as his mouth drives me closer and closer. His other hand slips between my thighs, and when his fingers slideinto me again, curling deep while his mouth devours my clit, the orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave.

I come screaming his name.

My legs lock around him. My back arches so hard it hurts. Stars burst behind my eyelids as my body pulses and writhes beneath his mouth. Damien doesn’t stop—not until I’m limp, shivering, completely wrecked and he’s lapped up every drop of my pussy juice..

When he finally pulls away, his mouth glistening with my juices, I can barely open my eyes.

And then I feel him crawl over me. The hard weight of him, his cock sliding between my thighs, thick and hot, pressing against me.

He kisses me again. Deep. Rough. Possessive.

“You are so beautiful and taste like honey.” His voice is rough, and his lips tease mine.

My hips arch, hungry to feel him inside me.

“Please, Damien,” I whimper, my eyes locking with his.

“What do you want, little one?” His cock teases my entrance.

“You,” I breathe. “I want you deep inside me.”

A groan rips through his throat, and he thrusts into me in one hard, perfect stroke.

I cry out as he fills me. Stretches me. My fingers claw at his back as he starts to move, slow at first, then harder, deeper, until I’m gasping for air.

Each thrust slams into something deep and perfect. He buries his face against my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” he groans, dragging his mouth to mine again. “It’s like your pussy was made for me.”

I cling to him, my nails digging in as pleasure builds again. My body responds to him like it was made for this. Every thrust hits the right spot. Every grind of his hips lights another fuse.

He growls something in Russian, his hands gripping my hips, anchoring me as he starts thrusting faster. Harder. My moans turn to cries as I spiral again. I can feel myself unraveling, feel the orgasm coiling tight.

And when it hits, it steals everything.

Sound.

Thought.

Breath.

I shatter beneath him. He keeps moving, driving me through the orgasm, making it last until I collapse beneath him, shaking, gasping, completely undone.

Then with one last deep thrust, he groans, his whole body going rigid above mine as he spills inside me. His hands fist the sheets beside my head. His teeth graze my shoulder.

We lie tangled together, breathless and sweat-drenched, and I feel like my entire identity is melting away, leaving something new behind.

As he pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead, I expect the moment to end. Expect the calm to settle in. With his arms wrapped possessively around me and my body sated and spent, I can’t help the exhaustion that envelops me, and I drift off with my ear pressed against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

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