Page 43 of Filthy and the Beast

I’ve never really considered more involved sex. Ropes and orgies or whatever. I’m so hung up on Damian doing that kind of thing, though, and the million complicated emotions the idea summons, I can’t move on to form a coherent response.

“Cool.” Damian moves through the conversation with ease while I sweat on the other end of the couch, shifting my weight to hide my erection. “What about fears? Anything you’re scared of happening? I, for one, do not want this experiment to mess with my last days of employment. I’m already extending you more trust than I typically would and wagering you won’t turn this boss-employee power dynamic into something nightmarish and exploitative. But I have to be realistic. Straight men are not known for managing their emotions. So I’m being absolutely clear now. The second you do something inappropriate, I’m walking out the door and never coming back.”

Terror shoots up my spine. “Never,” I manage, my voice gruff. “Would never do that.”

“An assurance is one thing. The point of this conversation, though, is to give us each a little more protection.” He taps his chin. “How about this. No hanky-panky until after dark. You’re moving well enough we finish up all of our tasks by late afternoon anyway. We’ll keep a clear line so there’s no blurring work time and sexy time, and we’ll also say no hooking up at all without a clear check-in immediately before and a conversation after.”

I tighten my brow. “We’re going to have to talk like this every time?” When he grins, I sigh. “Fine.”

Right now, the heat of his body so close, I’d agree to damn near anything for another chance to make him moan.

I rub my forehead, trying again because I don’t want to fuck this up. “I don’t know how to talk about this sort of thing.” Before he can roll his eyes, I grunt, “Clearly.”

Damian gives me a sympathetic nod, telling me to continue.

“I don’t know what I want. I’ve been with plenty of women, but I’ve never had someone talk to me like this. Working things out the way you do.” I grind my jaw, searching for the right words. “I’ll probably fuck this up.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he says gently. “You just shared a fear with me. That’s exactly what I asked you to do.”

The voice of Hardy, my old coach, comes back, reminding me to always stay strong, never show fear.

Squeezing my hand, Damian continues. “And I can assure you that I don’t expect you to be a brilliant communicator or an expert at analingus.”

Anal what?

“Anytime two people have sex, we have to learn about each other. Talk. Have fun. See what feels good and leaves everyone satisfied. Someone having a different gender or body than you’re used to doesn’t change any of that.” He bites down his lip softly, his cheeks round as he smiles at me. “I’m excited to see where things go. I have no idea what we might get into, but I do know exploring with you sounds really, really hot.”

My dick swells. Hearing him talk so openly having sex is weird, but it works me up, too.

“Yeah. That does sound hot.”

“All right.” Damian releases my hand. “Check us out. We’ve got a mutual interest in exploring our sexual spark, starting with lots of body contact and seeing what develops. Expectations are clear: no sex before dark, and we keep things chill and normal otherwise. And we’ll maintain this healthy communication with regular check-ins before and after hooking up.” He adjusts his glasses. “Let’s tack on an agreement that if either of us has sex with someone else, we’ll let the other know before we hook up again. And if you’re amenable to that, I think the arrangement should bring us quite nicely through the last nights of our cohabitation, right?”

Thinking of him leaving, my muscles tense. “Right. No problem.”

As though I’d have sex with someone else. I feel dizzy, though, when I realize Damian maybe would meet someone more appropriate, someone his age.

“Good. And I won’t even torture you by talking more right now.” Crawling forward on the couch, he tilts his eyes toward the window. “Dusk. And I’d say any moment, we’re going to be hitting full-on night.”

The clock ticks, and my body ignites.

It’s like a fight. My brain works so hard beforehand I feel like it’s burning. But then the match starts. The crowd yells and cheers, and I don’t have to think anymore.

I just know what to do.

I drag my hand around the back of Damian’s head, grabbing his neck and pawing at his shoulders. When he quivers, eyes locked, I know it’s okay to pull him onto me. One foot planted firmly on the floor, carefully holding my posture, I guide his body against mine and kiss him.

Heat everywhere. Our legs tangle, he strokes my beard and thrusts his tongue into my mouth, and he writhes his hard erection against mine. The thick burn makes me groan and kiss him harder.

His body feels different than I’m used to. Strange, but not bad. Harder. Rough in some ways, soft in others.

Sensations I still don’t understand, flooding my senses.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps, hands on my chest, and we’re at it again. Opening my mouth, I take his tongue, and Damian’s scent and taste and feel overwhelm me.

I sit up, pushing my weight against his body. He’s slim and short, but he guides us, taking charge. I grope him like I’ll drown if I let go, and he thrusts against me, rubbing our dicks as my entire body quakes.

“Easy,” he coos, his lips on my ear. “Watch your back.”

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