Page 22 of Surviving the Merge
“Damon?”
“Come here!” His palm met the table, and I flinched from the deafening sound.
You can do this; you can do this...I chanted in my head as I went to his side. Pushing his chair back, he tugged me between his legs. My ass hit the edge of the table. Cock still hard despite his anger?maybe even in spite of it?he caged me in. An intimidating force even seated.
Damon’s arrogance added inches to his height and breadth to his width. I paled as all the blood in my body took a trip south.
He noticed.
A cruel smile tugged at his plump lips, and his black-as-night eyes darkened further. Creamy smooth skin rippled on top of muscles. Satan himself.
“Take your hair down,” he ordered.
I did his bidding; my hair tumbled around me like a veil. He began to leisurely rub me through my sweats. I needed to do something to get out of the position I was in.
I twisted around and climbed onto the table, crawling on all fours to the other side. Strong hands encircled my hips, and my chest hit the surface beneath me as those hands dragged me back to where I came from. I peered over my shoulder to see him standing with a look of triumph on his face as he gazed longingly at my ass, now bare since he’d pulled my sweats off in the time it took me to catch my breath.
Facing forward again, I made it back to my knees and started my escape once more. Again, my chest met wood. I held onto the edge of the table for dear life but ended up back where he believed I belonged. We played this futile game a few more times, but in the end, I lay there panting uncontrollably, face plastered against the table. With my hair wild and my body slicked with sweat, I managed a weak, “Damon, I said no.”
“Oh, but your cock says,yes, lover.” He raised my hips and took his seat in a fluid move. Before I could get another word out, he jerked me onto his face, eating my ass like a man possessed.
“Arrggghhhh, God... no…” The anguish in my voice did nothing to deter him.
With one hand holding my hip in place, Damon took a break from tongue-fucking me long enough to spit in his palm. He returned to his business while roughly jerking me off. He sought retribution by using my pleasure as a brutal weapon against me. Fast and hard, my cum coated the table within seconds.
Fighting for oxygen, I sensed when he reached below me to steal my semen. From the sounds of it, the purpose was to slick himself up. Coming to the conclusion of what that suggested, I raised up so quickly my vision swam.
Damon stood poised at my entrance. I pushed against his chest, but I’d have had better luck moving a block of concrete.
“Damon, I saidno,” I repeated.
He observed me with his head cocked, trying to figure out if what I said lined up with what I meant. I could just imagine the crimson that surely stained my cheeks and the wideness of my already wide set eyes, paired with my hair in wild disarray. A sight Damon had never been forced to resist.
And then his tip breached me.
“Damon…” The begging quality of my tone ultimately gave him pause, and he appraised me with a new set of eyes. With only this slight bit of him inside me, my resolve began to weaken. The sensation of his smooth crown swelling within caused my breath to hitch, and I badly wanted to spread my knees wider, arch my back, lower my chest, and push in his direction, bearing down and sending him right through me like a missile seeking heat. In the final hour, I located my strength, “Get out—now.”
Reluctantly, he stepped away, and I mourned the loss of that bulbous part of him. I faced forward and dropped my head between my shoulder blades.
“Turn around. If my only option is to finish myself off, then you’re going to watch.”
I can’t do this,I thought.I’m weak…
Situating myself appropriately, Damon stepped so close between my legs that I could smell myself on his lips. I had to will my turncoat cock to not make a move.
With one hand wound tight around my hair and the other lubricated with my cum, he got lost to his own gratification. He moaned and grunted, his head rolled from side to side, and the slowness with which his tongue lapped at his own lips was at odds with the speed with which he hand-fucked his own cock.
His harsh breathing and the sticky sounds reached a fevered pitch. I struggled to not be affected. Any attempts I made at looking away or closing my eyes saw me yelping out in pain as he tightened his grip on my hair.
His pupils dilated further, and his arm worked harder. After a few minutes, he reached completion with a full body shudder, the smell of sex permeated the air.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” he asked lazily, painting my lips with his spill. “How long do you think you can keep this up, Just?”
“How long do you plan on staying?” Opening my mouth to speak caused a small dollop to hit my tongue. I dug my fingers into the meat of my thighs.
“Ready to get rid of me so soon?” He didn’t quite manage to keep the hurt out of his voice.
I sighed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Damon was an oversized child. That, in between the anger, lay a deep need to be loved and wanted.
