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I try to deflect, shifting under the weight of his stare. "Flattery will get you nowhere," I say, but the amusement in my voice betrays me.
He just smiles, a knowing, intimate curve of his lips. "It's not flattery if it's the truth," he counters, his hands tracing the contours of my body with a reverence that leaves me breathless.
His lips follow the path his fingers have blazed, soft kisses pressed into my skin like blessings, igniting a flame with every touch. I shudder under the warm press of his mouth, every caress a wordless praise of my form.
His hand ventures further, exploring with a boldness that speaks of ownership, yet there's a tenderness that belies the assertiveness of his touch. When he finds that sensitive nexus of nerves, I gasp, arching into his hand, guided by a primal instinct to seek more, to draw closer to the source of this overwhelming pleasure.
He watches me, his eyes never leaving my face as he brings me to the brink, his fingers skilled and knowing. The world narrows down to the electric connection that sizzles wherever his skin meets mine, to the building pressure that threatens to undo me.
And when the climax shudders through me, it's his name on my lips, a silent invocation, a surrender to the intensity of the moment. He holds me through it all, a solid, anchoring presence as waves of pleasure crash over me, leaving me adrift in their wake.
I watch as he lays down on his back and beckons me to him.
My eyes drift down to his manhood, long and thick. Without thinking, I reach down and take hold of it, wrapping my fingers around his length, gasping slightly at his hardness, his warmth.
He moans at the contact. “I need you now, Mariya.”
Without hesitation, I straddle him. I lower myself onto his thick shaft as he spreads me open and sinks deep within me. I close my eyes to focus on the sweetness of his presence inside, the sublime way in which he stretches me out and fills me full.
“You’re perfect,” he says softly. “Just perfect.”
The pleasure is so intense that all I can do is gasp. He fits me like he was made for me. I gently push against his chest, a silent request to let me do the work. I am careful not to jostle him too much, mindful of the wound in his side.
His eyes grow darker as I gently sway above him, circling my hips against his, taking him deeper and deeper inside me. My pussy flutters around his girth, and he grits his teeth, the effort it’s taking him not to plunge into me with wild abandon apparent.
Instead, he reaches down and uses his thumb to draw relentless circles over my aching clit.
It’s not long before he brings me to the brink again, the orgasm approaching like a pinprick on the horizon, becoming so imminent that it’s impossible to ignore. I squeeze my legs against his hips, holding him in place as the pleasure rushes through me, my thighs shaking. Damien grunts hard, erupting inside and filling me full.
Afterward, I curl into his side, my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His arm wraps around me, a protective shield even in his vulnerability. Our breathing syncs, a quiet testament to the bond that's been forged in the fire of our passion.
As I lay there, wrapped in his embrace, I can't help but marvel at the journey that brought us here. This man, once a stranger bound to me by duty and commitment, has become my sanctuary. In his arms, I find a peace I hadn't realized I'd been seeking.
As the fading light casts long shadows across the room, I let myself drift, the sound of his heartbeat a lullaby that whispers of new beginnings.
Chapter 14
Damien
The first light of dawn filters through the sheer curtains, creating a soft glow over the room, over her. Lying there with the morning sun kissing her skin, she looks ethereal, a vision of tranquility that tugs at something deep within me. I watch her, a contented sigh escaping me, my eyes tracing the delicate features of her face, softened in sleep.
Her eyelids flutter, the dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks before her eyes finally open, meeting mine. My heart, already so full, swells at the sight. Her morning gaze is innocent, a stark contrast to the fiery woman who matched me in passion just hours before.
"Good morning," I murmur, my voice rough with sleep.
She stretches like a cat, a slow, languid movement that draws my attention to the curves of her body.
"Morning," she replies, her voice laced with the remnants of sleepiness. The corners of her mouth lift into a smile that radiates through the room, brighter than the morning sun itself.
There's a playful twinkle in her eye as she speaks. "So, is this the part where you tell me last night was a mistake?" she teases, a challenge in her tone.
I can't help the laugh that rumbles through me. "Mistake?" I echo, feigning surprise. "Not at all. In fact," I confess, my hand finding its way to her face, my thumb caressing her cheek, "I'm quite certain I could easily become addicted to you."
Her laughter is a melody that dances in the air, and before I know it, I'm drawn to her, my lips finding hers in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It's a declaration, a silent vow that what we have ignited between us is only just beginning.
Our kisses deepen, fueled by the newfound hunger that we've barely begun to sate. I'm careful of the injury on my side, but the small twinges of pain are nothing compared to the urgency that courses through me. I need her, again and again, an insatiable desire that she seems more than willing to fulfill.
As the world outside the window comes to life, so do we, entwined in the sheets, lost in each other. The intimacy of the night before has opened a door that neither of us can close, nor do we want to. We are two halves of a whole, discovering the depth of our connection with every touch, every kiss, every shared breath.
