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Damon.
That is gonna be seared in my brain for the rest of my life. I amnevergoing to forget about it.
TEN
Damon
I’m rarely nervous, but for some reason that kiss knocked me senseless. I’m jittery and impatient.
I want to do it again.
And again.
Tomas shifts on the cushion next to me, and I peek at him through my lashes. That kiss was phenomenal, and I have had my share of kisses—relationship kisses and on-camera kisses, but none of them made me feel like this.
Like I’m floating, like I can’t feel my face or my hands.
Like I am so fucking gone for this guy.
I shift a little closer, Nibblet lifting his tired head to stare at me as I do. He knows what I’m doing. He usually does the same thing when he’s trying to sneak toward my food.
I’m no better than a dog wanting a treat.
But then again, who can blame me? It’s Tomas with those dirty hands and those impeccable lips. Sue me for wanting more, for wanting to straddle those thighs, clutch onto his jaw, and plunder that mouth.
But I don’t. I’m being good. I am trying not to scare him away. Not that I should behave. I should scare him away to save my fragile heart.
This is only going to end in devastation, and yet I don’t want it to stop. I want to keep going just so I have something to remember this week by.
To remember him.
This might be the only chance I get. I can’t believe I admitted to him that I’m not really in the mood to work. Ever since he fucked me with the dildo, I’ve been unmotivated. But now that I’ve felt his kiss….
Oh no. This is not good. I love my job. I love the power I feel when I’m performing, love that I can make so much money by doing something so unconventional. But for some reason, I can’t seem to make myself book collabs with popular camboys. I need to get my shit together. It’s literally my job, but I can’t seem to make myself answer my messages, to schedule them in.
No, instead of doing what I should, I just picture Tomas. The ferocity with which he came into my room, hellbent on pushing me over the edge. It was every-fucking-thing, and I think he may have ruined me when he did it.
In the best way.
But also in the worst way because—hello—this is my motherfucking job.
“Good movie,” Tomas says, and I nod, staring at Nibblet when he arches a doggy eyebrow at me.
Don’t judge me, doggo. I’m a big fat liar. I haven’t watched a second of this damn thing. I’m too busy watching Tomas and his crotch.
I’m like an animal in heat. I want to see him naked. Lick him all over the place. Put my face in his crotch and sniff like the damn dogs do.
Maybe I should resort to my base instinct—just let loose. But then again, I don’t want to frighten him. Although, he didn’t seem frightened earlier. He seemed perfectly fine. I felt the hard length of him pressed against me. I know he wanted it.
He wasn’t afraid in the least. At least his cock wasn’t. No, it was growing down his thigh and pressed against me.
I want to see it, want to put it in my throat and swallow, dazzle him with my skills.
“Really good movie,” I agree and then roll my eyes at myself. I’m a professional. I do this for a living. I should be able to make a fucking move.
Peanut is snoring near my feet, and Wonton lets out a long fart.
Tomas turns to look at me, and I roll my eyes, pinching my nose and breathing through my mouth.
