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A soft moan came from between my lips, and I leaned my head back on the headrest, reveling in the immediate heightening of the sensations traveling through my body. Damian’s fingers were firm on my clit, and even though my leggings were a barrier, it did nothing to dampen how hungry I was for this.
Everything was stressing me out. Everything was exhausting. It was hard for me to continuously go on like this. Sometimes I needed to pretend things were different, to act as though I was someone else, if only for a few minutes at a time. Damian, Ezekiel, Cade and even Luca—and, yes, though not lately, Zander, too—all made me feel the way I imagined a girl should feel.
Important. Wanted. Desired. Cared for.
And loved.
My breathing grew short, my clit swelling under the attention of his fingers. He took his time in playing with me over my leggings, and once we were out of Cypress, that hand of his increased the pressure and the rhythm with which he rubbed me. I bit my bottom lip and moaned, unable to keep the sound in.
God. It really did feel amazing, and it made me wonder just what else Damian could do. His skills with his hands were top-notch, exemplary, gold-star worthy. I couldn’t help but wonder if his skills with his other body parts were just as great.
He’d said I wasn’t ready for him, but you know what? I think I was. I think it had finally dawned on me that Damian, that Atlas, was someone I wanted more than anything.
It was right when I had that thought that my body tumbled over the edge the first time. The orgasm swept through me like a storm surge, powerful and strong, and I could not stifle the moan that came with it. Every muscle in my body shuddered, my clit pulsating as my thighs squeezed together over his hand.
Damian didn’t stop. He kept his hand firmly between my thighs, and though we were on a highway, no one else was around, which allowed him the opportunity to glance in my direction and take me in. “Fuck, baby girl. I do love the sounds you make when you’re coming. How many more times do you think you can come before we get back?”
I did not know if he truly wanted an answer or if it was just a rhetorical question, but I had the feeling, either way, we were going to put it to the test.
And we did.
God, we really did. You might think a man’s hand would grow a bit sore, just like you might think it might get tiring feeling it over leggings and not directly skin-to-skin, but you’d be wrong. I came another three times.
Yep, three. Not once, not twice, but three more freaking times for a total of four, and each time my body was pushed to its limits, thrown onto cloud nine and forgotten about. Every inch of my skin flushed, the blood in my veins pumping harder than ever. I couldn’t catch my breath. My clothes were stifling, and I wanted nothing more than to rip them off.
By the time the house came into view, by the time we pulled up to the dark driveway, it couldn’t have been soon enough. Damian pulled the car into the garage—it was a two-car garage, so there was plenty of space on either side of the vehicle once he rolled to a stop. It was only when he had to put the car in park and turn it off that he finally withdrew his hand from between my legs.
I was in no hurry to move, still riding the high of that many orgasms back-to-back. My head felt light, and I watched as Damian got out of the car. He walked around the hood, coming to my side—though he walked with a bit of a funny gait, like he was battling his own erection with each step. He went for the door handle and pulled it open.
When I did not move, he leaned down, into the car, and he muttered, “You will be the death of me, Giselle.” He unbuckled my seatbelt for me and then pulled me out of the car, slamming my back against the metal of the vehicle while simultaneously shutting the passenger door.
The man had style, I had to give him that. A confident swagger no one else had. It’s what I didn’t like about him at first, but now… now everything was different.
He leaned his body against mine, pinning me between a rock and a hard place—or in this case, between the car and his rock-hard body. The light attached to the garage door opener was on, letting me get a good look at his heavy-lidded expression. I brought a hand to his face and lightly touched the teardrop tattoo near his eye.
His dark eyes were alive with desire, and his breathing turned haggard. My hand fell away from his face the moment one of his tattooed hands grabbed my neck. He squeezed it enough to draw out a gasp from me, firm enough to make my eyelids flutter shut.
This time, when our mouths met, it was Damian who did the leaning. This time was on him, and maybe it was because of the multitude of orgasms, but this kiss made the world around me sway.
Hard and unyielding, almost painful, and yet even so I knew I was safe with this man. He might be a little rough, but he’d never hurt me. The kiss sparked something so deep inside, I couldn’t think straight. It gave me life. It gave me a purpose that went beyond vengeance.
A kiss like that could change the world.
Damian rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard as he labored to pull his lips off mine. “I want nothing more than to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the bedroom, baby girl.”
I was seconds from asking him why he didn’t, but the hand that was on my neck swept up to my face and cupped my cheek.
“But it seems,” he paused, eyes flicking to the driveway, “we have company.” What—my mind couldn’t even finish the question, because Damian had stepped away from me, dropped his arms to his sides, and added, “You do what you need to. Don’t worry about me.”
Don’t worry about the bulge in his pants, or…
Whatever he meant, I didn’t get the chance to ask him, because he went inside the house, leaving me alone with the girl walking into the garage with a scowl on her face. She’d parked at the base of the driveway, and it looked like she’d just come from a club.
Shay Arrowwood wore a tight black dress with skinny heels that made her a good four inches taller than she was. Strapless, so every bit of her muscled arms was on display. A dark red lipstick covered her lips.
“I was out with the guys and Luca, but when I heard your message, I knew I had to come straight here,” she said, though she spoke with a frown, as if she didn’t really want to be here. She leaned on the trunk of Damian’s car, staring at me. “Sorry to interrupt your… whatever that was.” She didn’t sound sorry at all.
I ran a hand through my hair and prayed I didn’t look as disheveled as I felt. I pushed away from the car. My knees were a little weak, but I could make do. “It’s important, Shay. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked to see you.” I went to the button near the door, hitting it to shut the garage.
