Page 41 of Insatiable


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“God, are you ever not hard?” she groaned.

“Are you ever not wet for me?” he countered.

“Hasn’t happened so far.”

“Ditto.” Another brush of his mouth on her neck. “Stay still, Vivienne. Keep your hands on the glass.”

She heard the command in his voice, but verified it anyway. “Is that an order?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Ooh. He’d caught her mood, the craziness, the frenzy.

“Will you punish me if I disobey?”

No hesitation this time, either. “Yes.” He licked her earlobe, breathing into her ear. “But I promise I’ll hurt you in ways you enjoy.”

The strength seeped from her legs. She was glad for the support of the window, and for his arm around her waist.

“Trust me,” he urged.

She licked her lips. Nodded. “I do.”

It was true. Damien had taken control many times since they’d met, and he’d never hurt her, never done a thing she hadn’t desperately wanted him to do. Now, well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she desperately wanted him to do.

Other than...everything.

Maybe that was why, when they’d stopped at a store yesterday, she’d grabbed condoms and lube, which right now rested inside the pocket of the robe on the floor.

Everything.

No more words passed between them. Damien began to focus solely on exploring her body. She wasn’t embarrassed to stand completely naked directly in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. The penthouse faced the river; anybody on the other side of it would have to have binoculars to see her.

Even if they didn’t have complete privacy, though, she wouldn’t care. Not when his mouth was so warm and wet, when his hands were so strong yet subtle—his fingertips brushing against her collarbone, his other hand gliding down her spine. She didn’t know where he would touch her next, or what he would do, and could only stand there, staring at all that clear blue sky, as storms—thunder, lightning, a volcanic eruption—built within her.

He reached around to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the tip into a hot point of sensation. She arched into his hand, wanting intensity, not tenderness. More pressure, more ache, more need, more satisfaction. All of it. They’d made love in almost every conceivable way, but still his touch excited her as nothing in her life ever had, and now, with that sexily worded threat/promise, she wanted to experience everything it was possible to experience as a lover. Even pain.

“More?” he asked, reading her body’s response.

“More,” she whimpered as his fingers encircled her nipple in a gentle but firm grasp. His gentle stroke became the tiniest pinch, and she gasped at the swift combination of a hint of discomfort and a gush of pleasure.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her body. “I want to memorize you.”

“I think you already have.”

“No. It’s going to take more effort to really know you the way I want to. A whole lot more.”

He seemed ready to put in that effort. Viv let out a gasp when he slowly dropped to his knees, his tongue gliding down the small of her back. He continued to move his mouth—low, hot, wicked—over her most secret places.

She didn’t protest. In fact, when he gently nudged his tongue between her cheeks, she leaned forward, understanding what he wanted. And then his tongue was there, rimming her, testing her resolve, seeing just how far she really wanted to go.

“Yes,” she hissed, sensation surging through her.

It was bold, wicked, dangerous. But oh, how she loved it.

Damien groaned when she urged him on, reaching up to grip her ass in both hands. He squeezed, kneaded, and she suddenly wondered what it would be like to feel the sting of a slap there. They were treading onto new, bold paths, going places she’d never been—had never wanted to go with anyone else. She suddenly understood why pleasure and pain could so easily coexist: it wasn’t just the physical sensations, but the mental ones. The wild imaginings in her brain were turning her on almost as much as his seductive hands and tongue. She wanted the new, the shocking, the forbidden. Wanted it all. With him.

When he moved his mouth farther down, so he could dip his tongue into the wetness of her vagina, she cried out. She craved him, needed him so much. She wasn’t sure she could stand much more pleasure until he showed her she could.

When he gently slid a wet finger against her puckered rear, she didn’t resist at all, inviting him to explore, to invade.

He did, dipping into her, charting new, previously unclaimed territory.

“Oh, Damien,” she moaned, arching into his hand, telling him yes, yes.

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