I add a second finger to stretch her out and dip my head to lick her clit, smirking when she moans and lifts her ass off the bed.
“Damon..”
“Almost, baby.” I tease, crooking my fingers inside her.
She growls and rolls her hips on me, already wanting more, so I take that as my cue and give the little punk what she wants. I pull my fingers out and push her knees up to her ribs, then I line my cock up with her ass and slide the tip inside. I groan and push in slowly, inch by inch until I’m buried balls deep inside her.
“Oh, fuck, that’s deep.” She cries out, grabbing my neck to pull me down on her just so she has something to bite on.
I growl and bite her back, gripping her hair while I slam my hips on her ass and fuck her hard and fast. She screams and I let her do it, smirking when her legs start to shake again.
“Come for me.” I rasp, reaching down between us to play with her pussy. “Scream and squeeze my cock with this tight little ass.”
She does and I take her mouth with mine, damn near losing my mind when her sexy little body convulses around me. I groan at the feel of her and finish inside her, falling down on her in the same beat and staying there for I don’t know how long.
“You know you weigh like two hundred and fifty pounds, yeah?”
I laugh lightly, pulling out to drop down on my back beside her. “Two eighty, punk.”
She smirks and moves to stand, frowning when I snatch her hand to pull her back down to me.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.” I say simply, dropping my head down on the pillow beside her. “Don’t argue.”
“But-”
I smack her ass and she squeals, turning to glare at me over her shoulder.
“I said don’t argue.”
“Bossy prick.”
I grin and she rolls her eyes, grabbing the blanket to pull it over the both of us. I slide my arm under her head and pull her back to my chest, drawing circles on her stomach until she finally relaxes against me.
Then I fall asleep with a girl in my bed for the first time in my life.
Chapter 21
Callie
So damn hot.
And hard.
I lick my lips and look up at him, searching his face for signs of life while I run my fingertips over the dips and ripples of his bare abs. The ink covering his body is fucking incredible, mostly blacks and dark blues, same color as his eyes when he’s mad or turned on. Too many images and designs to make them all out in the darkness of his bedroom, but I can tell the antique style stopwatch covering the spot where his heart lies seems to be at the center of it all.I run my finger over the face and squint into the darkness, reading the time on it.
Ten past twelve?
Or ten minutes..
I ignore that odd coincidence and the memories that come with it and slide my eyes further south, eyeing the date written in black Roman numerals across his chest.
II.VI.MCMLXXVII
February sixth, nineteen seventy seven.
Yesterday’s date..