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Shaking his head, he keeps his gaze locked on mine. “No, Keira. Fingering you is nothing like me fucking you. You’ll get pleasure from my fingers, yes, but believe me when I tell you, you’ll know when my cock is inside you. And you’ll beg me over and over to keep going until you fall apart.”
I take a moment to relax, trusting his words, knowing when we’re like this, he will never hurt me.
Leaning back, I exhale slowly. “Then please…finger me.”
It’s strange to say that aloud when I’m not completely certain. But I do know that I want this. I want Damon’s touch. I want to feel him inside me.
“At your command, princess.” His words get lost as he presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, his hands caressing my ass while inching me forward. My heart starts beating out of my chest when I feel one of his thick fingers touch my entrance.
A low growl fills the room as Damon’s finger slips inside me. It’s just the tip, but it’s enough to surprise and excite me all at once.
“Holy fuck, baby, you’re tight as hell.” He remains like this for a long moment. His heavy breathing fills my ears, and I wonder how close he is to losing control.
“Keep going, please.” The words rush from my lips as his finger moves inside me painfully slow. So slow, I almost consider pleading with him to continue moving.
I mewl when his finger slips all the way in. It’s not very wide or long, but it’s definitely something that isn’t usually there, and my body reacts to its presence. My muscles tighten, and a sting follows, but it’s not so much painful as it is uncomfortable.
Just as slow, he pulls it out, then pushes it back in. His groan is audible at the sight of his finger claiming me. I wish I could see his whole face.
I go to prop myself up onto my arms again, but stop. My head falls against the pillows when he places his thumb on my clit, drawing out more moans from my lungs. The dual stimulation intensifies the feelings, and from the tightening in my pussy, it won’t be long before he sends me flying over the edge all over again.
I pant, feeling each slip of his finger in and out of me. His movements are slow and purposeful, and I wonder if it always feels like this—or if it’s just because it’s Damon…if he’s the only man who can make my body sing.
If he’s able to draw this kind of pleasure from me with his fingers and his tongue, what will it be like when he fucks me for the first time? The thought scares and excites me equally. I want him bad, but I’m too terrified of the unknown to give into those needs.
The image of him pushing inside me with his long, hard pulsing dick is what drives me into oblivion.
I cry out, “Damon, Damon. Oh, God. Damon…” when the orgasm hits me full force, and he pushes his finger into me one last time while leaving his thumb on my clit, rubbing small circles against it, drawing out the sensation.
“I can’t imagine what it will be like to claim you for the first time.” Damon’s voice is cloaked in darkness, and I know he’s slightly unhinged.
As he stands, I can see the tension in his body. I want to help alleviate some of that need. I wish I knew exactly what to do on my own, but I need him to direct me.
His cock is hard, impossibly so, and if I’m being honest, it frightens me a little bit—but I don’t let it stop me from reaching out for him.
Damon watches me cautiously, his body seeming to grow tenser as I grip his length. I’ve never held a cock in my hands before, nor brought someone to orgasm, but I want to do that for Damon. I want to make him proud. I want to make him feel the same emotions he makes me feel. My hand seems so small wrapped around him. My fingers don’t even come close to meeting, and I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to do this without using two hands.
“It’s taking everything inside me not to fuck the ever-loving daylights out of you, Keira. If you’re planning to do something with my cock, then please do it. Otherwise, let me go, and I’ll take care of it myself. I won’t be liable for what happens in the next ten seconds.”
His words don’t sound like a threat, but there’s an urgency to them, and I know he means every single word he says. If I don’t do something now, he will disappear somewhere, maybe into the shower, and pleasure himself—pleasure I want to give him.
“I want to do something for you, but I don’t really know how.” My mind briefly wanders to when he taunted me, asking if I wanted his stripper to give me a lesson on how to please him. The memory is painful, and I shut it out as quickly as it entered.
