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I take his hands and bring them to my breasts. I pull back enough to whisper in his ear. "Touch me, please."
He presses his lips to my neck. He looks up at me like I'm heaven-sent and cups my breasts with his palms.
His gaze shifts to the window.
Mine follows.
There is someone there, in Frederick and Tinsel's room. An outline of a shadow. He's watching.
Or maybe she's watching. From here, it's impossible to tell.
But it doesn't matter. Either way, knowing we're on display sends anticipation flooding through my body.
I lean down and press my lips to Damon's. I kiss him like I'm proving something. I guess I am. But it's not to anyone else.
It's to myself.
I can be in the moment. I can be honest and authentic here. I can embrace exactly what I want.
After I break our kiss, I knot my hand in his hair, and I bring his lips to my chest.
He takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks softly. Then it's gentle flicks of his tongue. Up and down, back and forth, around and around.
I savor the feeling until I can't take it anymore, then I move him to my other breast, and I soak in the bliss there.
He stays true to his promise, giving me his body, responding to exactly what I ask as I whisper harder, softer, there.
The perfect flicks of his tongue wind me so fucking tight. Until I'm not sure I can take more. Until I know I can't take more.
I need all of him now.
But I need to show him how much I want him first.
I pull back with a sigh. I tug at his t-shirt. He raises his arms to help me do away with it.
We're both here, on this bench, in only our jeans, on display for anyone who cares to watch. My ex. His new girlfriend. The strange musicians who might employ us. A sailor or neighbor with a telescope.
I don't care who sees. Only that someone can.
Okay, and maybe a little that my ex-boyfriend can. That I can show him what he's missing.
That I can show myself what he's missing.
"On your back." My voice drops to a tone I recognize. The demanding tone I use with him at other times. But never here.
His pupils dilate. His chest heaves. He hears it too. He likes it too.
Damon pulls a condom from his pocket, sets it on the green fabric, and he slides onto his back.
I straddle him again, then I shift onto his thighs, I undo the button of his jeans. The zipper.
He lifts his hips so I can roll the pants off his ass.
The boxers too.
The fabric collects at his thighs.
I lean down and bring my lips to his tip. A soft brush at first. A hint of the taste of him.
He shudders as I take him into my mouth.
I press my tongue against the underside of his tip, and I suck softly. I toy with him the way he toyed with me, testing different speeds and strokes, finding exactly what he needs, and taking him deeper and deeper.
"Fuck, Cass." He reaches down and knots one hand in my hair. The other finds my chest. "You're gonna make me come."
It's not my plan, but when he draws a circle around my nipple with his thumb, it's the only thing I want.
I want to bring him the bliss he brought me.
I want to prove to him, my ex, and most of all, myself that I can do this because I want it.
Not because it's easier or different or without the same sort of expectations.
Because it brings me pleasure.
Because, right now, he's mine, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with him.
I take him deeper.
He toys with me, with those same circles, again and again. His hand knots in the back of my hair. He doesn't push or pull. He just cups the back of my head, letting me lead, as I take him deeper again and again.
His eyes close. His thighs shake. His fingers make those perfect circles around me.
Then his hand knots in my hair and he groans. "Fuck, Cass. I… Fuck."
He's almost there.
I take him one more time, then I pull back. I release him from my mouth, and I take him with my hand. I bring his cock to my chest, and I let him spill over my breasts.
He groans my name as he comes, his thighs shuddering, his breath shaky.
When he finishes, I release him, and I sit up straight. It's a beautiful fucking mess. He's dripping down my torso and over himself.
"I better clean this up." I take his t-shirt and I wipe myself clean.
He laughs as I help him clean. "Is that your new pajama top?"
"You know me too well." I toss the cotton onto his stomach.
He pushes himself up. He lets the shirt fall onto his pelvis. "How much of that was for him?" His eyes go to the window.
