Page 47 of Damnation
I grin at this small unexpected confession. “Downstairs. Matt made breakfast.” I trace the outline of the tattoo that he has on his bicep, an hourglass wrapped in barbed wire with three tiny butterflies trapped inside. “Vince is here too,” I tell him. He nods. I move my hand to his shoulder, continuing to touch him. I can feel some raised scratches under my fingertips. I run my hand over them again before realizing that they’re just the marks that I left on him last night. I blush at the thought. I drop my eyes and my hand, overcome by conflicting emotions. Embarrassment, yes, but also satisfaction. I’m not a possessive person, or at least that’s what I’ve always thought. I’ve never felt the need to mark a guy’s body like before, but with Thomas, it’s different. Everything is always different with him.
“What’s up?” he asks, looking seriously at me.
“You’re…covered in scratches,” I manage.
“And you’re covered in bruises,” he answers, unable to hide the hint of guilt in his voice. “Do they hurt?”
I look up at him and give my head a decisive shake. “Do yours hurt?” I ask awkwardly, not meeting his eyes. A low, spontaneous laugh is his only response. Then he slides a hand under the shorts I’m wearing, rubbing my thigh and butt cheek. He grabs me firmly and rolls me on top of him.
“I wish you’d hurt me like that every day,” he says slyly, pressing my hips down against his morning wood. When I feel a tremor between my thighs, I gulp.
“Always such a pervert,” I tease him, patting his chest.
“You like my perversions, admit it,” he murmurs provocatively. His hands remain firmly on my ass while I try to remain unmoved by his touch. I shake my head, only attempting to deny it because I don’t want to let him win. But the truth is, his depraved side stirs feelings in me that I didn’t even know I had.
“Liar. Did you forget that every time I do this”—he gives my ass an illustrative squeeze—“you get soaking wet?”
“Thomas!”
He laughs at my indignation, and I try to wriggle off of him, pretending to be annoyed. He holds me down, circling my waist in an iron grip. I try to free myself, but instead we find ourselves improvising some sort of weird wrestling match. Eventually, I end up pinned beneath him, my back pressed into the mattress and my forearms held down firmly on either side of my head. Thomas torments me with nips along my throat. I buck my hips in futile protest, and my groin accidentally rubs against his. This brief contact is enough to set us both off.
Thomas gives me an intrigued look, and when he sees that I’m not trying to move away, he stifles a grin and presses down harder onto my body, increasing the pressure on my core. I can feel every nerve ending alive with tension and pleasure as he lifts up my shirt and takes it off. Then he returns to my open thighs. “I bet that if I checked right now,” he says, laying soft kisses on my stomach, “I’d find you all ready for me.” He lifts his head up to look cheekily at me. And I’d tell him that he’s wrong, except for the inconvenient fact that he’s goddamned right.
I have a wild longing to feel him inside me, but I have no intention of putting on another show for the denizens of the house, so when Thomas tries to glide his hand downward, I block him. “We can’t.”
He stares up at me, brow furrowed so hard, his eyebrows are drawn almost together. “We can’t?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “The house is full of guys. And before, when I came down for breakfast, they made it pretty clear that last night…well, we weren’t quiet,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “So?”
“Thomas, theyheardus,” I insist.
“Ness.” He settles his body weight on his forearms, which are planted on either side of my hips. “You realize you’re in a frat house, right? Do you have any idea how much moaning and squawking I’ve heard through these walls?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.” His lips are back on my belly, and he begins kissing me again, gradually moving lower. “It’s supposed to make you realize that no one gives a shit what we do.” Before I can answer him, he pulls off my shorts, and I’m left completely nude under his hungry gaze. An appreciative groan comes from deep within his throat. I know I’m blushing again, just like every other time I’ve found myself underneath him, naked and vulnerable.
“No panties?”
“Well, last night someone thought it would be a good idea to reduce them to shreds.”
“That someone had an excellent idea,” he answers brazenly.
I can’t suppress a gasp when his hot tongue licks along my inner thigh, teasingly close to my most intimate parts. He grasps my exposed breast in one hand and rubs circles around my nipple until it stiffens. I instinctively arch my back and tighten my grip on his hair. The friction of his stubble against my inner thighs makes me shiver.
Without ever removing his gaze from mine, Thomas presses another moist kiss to my mons, glancing over my clit, which is throbbing so hard, it hurts. “Please, don’t torture me this way,” I pant, unable to stand another moment of this suffering. My body burns as I get wetter and more aroused. I squirm, longing for his tongue, his hands, his entire body.
“I want you to do something for me,” he says, in a voice rough with desire. He observes my every reaction as he continues to kiss, bite, and lick me. “Will you?”
I nod.Anything you want, I think.
“I want you to touch yourself for me, Ness.”
My eyes widen, taken by surprise.
“I want to watch you do it,” he adds, sliding his tongue along my sodden folds. My breath catches, and my heart skips a beat.
