Page 53 of Scorned Queen

Alana

Let’sseehowreadyyou really are.

Damion’s barely spoken those words when he leans in close, nuzzling my neck, and I swear he inhales my scent, as if he’s savoring it, the very act lifting goosebumps on my skin.“Do you know how many fantasies I have of you,” he declares, his teeth scraping my shoulder, and I suck in a breath at the erotic bite, trying to process his words.

He fantasizes about me.

I fantasize about him.So many times.So many ways.

His free hand flattens on my back, his touch searing, heat radiating against my skin and through my gown.He stands and takes me with him, and immediately begins to unbutton his shirt, but when I’m anxious, eager to touch him and help him, when I would free my hands, he catches them behind me and drags me to him.“Leave it,” he orders softly, his hand sliding over my breasts, and tugging down my gown, his fingers tugging roughly at the stiff peak of my nipple, pinching it to the point that I squeeze my eyes shut and gasp.And just when I think I can take no more, “Damion,” I pant out, his lips and tongue are around the offended nipple, licking and soothing it.

He presses his lips to my ear.“Do you like being at my mercy?”

Oh yes, I think, beyond reason and my need for control in my life, I do, but there has always been this push and pull between me and Damion, challenges and games, that I cannot let go of, not just yet.Maybe not ever.It’s who we are.“Am I at your mercy?”

He laughs, low and soft, a sexy rumble I feel in every part of me, and his eyes meet mine, a punch of absolute unbridled lust sparks between us.The kind of lust we never dared, but the shackles are off and the years have been the longest foreplay in human history.

“You are at my mercy,” he assures me, “and we both know you like it, but it’s so like you, Alana Blue, to deny it.”As if proving his point, he scoops my backside, molding me to his erection and while I’m reveling in just how hard and hot he is next to me, he surprises me by giving my backside a fairly firm smack.

I gasp with the unexpected sting, the erotic invasion so unfamiliar but wickedly arousing, and already he’s kissing me, and oh God, it’s not just a kiss.He devours my mouth, and his tongue somehow manages to destroy me and turn me on, all the same.I’m dying with my need to touch him, aware of his rough fingers squeezing my backside, oh so aware.And when he tears his mouth from mine, I’m breathing heavy, my nipples tight balls of aching need, my sex dripping I’m so wet for him.

“I’m at your mercy, too, baby,” he says, his hand stroking over my hair.“You have no idea how long I’ve been at your mercy.”

“I somehow doubt that,” I whisper, thinking back to the past, to how much I wanted him to just kiss me, but he never did.

“You’re wrong, baby.So very wrong.”

He releases me to work the buttons of his shirt, and this time, I do not fight the moment.The sooner he’s undressed, the sooner he will touch me again, the sooner he will bury himself inside me and fuck me.And I’m not sure I have ever needed to be fucked quite as much as I do now.I want this man to love me and make love to me, but there is a dark, more primal side of him, I find exceedingly arousing.

Obviously as impatient as I am, he doesn’t bother with all the buttons, giving up halfway down, and pulling it over his head.He tosses it aside, and I don’t look away, finally I don’t have to look away and pretend I don’t desire every part of this man’s body.I don’t have to pretend I don’t want him with everything female in me.

He catches my jaw, stares down at me and when I think he might say something, he kisses me, a long hungry stroke of his tongue, before he tears his mouth from mine, and turns me to face the window.It’s right then that lightning streaks across the sky, a dramatic flame, lighting up the darkness, much like those moments in our past that ignited and then faded black.We’re together now, and the world should be sunshine and light, but every second, every touch, still feels so damn impossible, as if he could be ripped away from me at any moment.

Damion tugs the silk from my wrists and then my gown is over my head, leaving me naked for his viewing, and this idea doesn’t stir shyness in me as it would with another man.This is Damion, this is us, and I trust him in ways the past might demand otherwise, and yet somehow, that past is exactly why I give myself to him and do so freely.I am his.I have always been his and while there was a time when I fought that very idea, that time is not now.

As if testing these thoughts, he turns me to face him, his gaze stroking over my naked body, his gaze hooded, etched with hunger as he says, “You’re so fucking beautiful.I don’t know how I kept my hands off of you.”He rotates me and sits me in the chair, and I don’t even think about moving, not when he’s sliding his pants and underwear down his legs.

A moment later, he’s masculine perfection personified, his lean muscular body eye candy to any woman, his cock thick and jutted forward, heavily veined with arousal.I want to touch him to kneel in front of him and take him in my mouth, and I never had such a thought in my life but while I’m contemplating what I might do to him, he kneels in front of me, his hands on my legs.

He kisses my knees and that gentle touch of his mouth to my skin, hums through me like a song playing an erotic tune on my nerve endings.“I wonder how many times in this lifetime I can kiss every part of you?”he asks.“How many do you think?”

“Not enough,” I dare, because it’s the truth.Damion can never kiss me enough, there will never be a time when anything with him was too much.

His lips curve and he kisses my knees again, easing my legs apart, opening me to him, and now I feel exposed and vulnerable, but it’s also sexy and arousing.He was right.I’m at his mercy and my hands are not even tied anymore.His hands run up and down my thighs, thumbs caressing an upward path until he teases me with the briefest brush of my nub.I suck in a breath, my nipples so tight it’s painful, and when his mouth begins tracing a path up one of my inner thighs, his tongue darting here and there, I’m lost in sensations, my fingers digging into the arms of the chair.

Just when I think his mouth will finally be where I want him, in the most intimate part of my body, his finger slides through the slick heat there, and dips inside, there and gone, and he starts all over with the other thigh.I’m coming unglued, barely tolerating the teasing and when his finger slides inside me again, the idea that he will deny me again, is too much.I sit up and capture his face.“Damion.”

“What do you want, Alana?”

“You know what I want.You made me want it.”

“You want me to lick you here,” he says, his finger teasing the delicate flesh.

“Yes.”

“Say it.Lick my—”

“No.”I shove on his shoulders, and he laughs low and deep.

---