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“Thank you.” Damon takes the key card she offers. “Can I please book a table in the restaurant?”
“Of course. What time?”
He checks his watch—it’s now 5:45 p.m. “Six thirty?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thanks.” He smiles, takes my hand, and leads me over to the elevators.
“Forty-five minutes?” I tease as the doors open. “Doesn’t give us long.”
He leads me in, waits for the doors to close, presses for the top floor, then drops his bag and turns to take my face in his hands as the car rises. “I’ve missed you,” he says simply. “I want you, Belle, but I want to spend time with you, too.” He kisses me, just softly, on the lips. “I want to have dinner with you, and talk to you, and find out about the crazy party you’ve just done, and what magic tricks you’ve learned, and how your studies are going. And then I’m going to take you up to our room and spend hours kissing you and making love to you and making you come until you’re so exhausted that you beg me to let you go to sleep.”
“Oh…” I say faintly. “Okay.”
He chuckles. “Your eyes are like saucers.”
“I’m just puzzled,” I tell him honestly.
“About what?”
“Why you like me.”
His lips curve up. “Because you’re beautiful in both body and mind and name. It’s as if there’s a star above you, Belle, and when I’m with you, it shines on me too, and it banishes all my shadows.”
I don’t reply because I’m actually speechless. He looks into my eyes for a moment, then drops his gaze to my mouth. Only then does he kiss me properly, sweeping his tongue inside, filling me with heat and longing.
The elevator pings, the doors open, and he moves back. I sigh. “Are you sure you want to have dinner now?”
He chuckles, picks up his bag, takes my hand, and leads me out. “It’ll be worth the wait.”
Grumbling, I follow him along the corridor to the room at the end. He touches his key card to the pad, opens the door, and moves back to let me go first.
I walk in, my jaw dropping at my first sight of the room. It’s not enormous, but it’s sumptuous. We enter a living room with a suite and a widescreen TV. Several skylights fill the room with the evening sunlight. To our right, through a door, is a white-tiled bathroom, and I can just see a large bath.
At the far end of the open-plan room is the bed, and it’s a biggie—a four poster, bedecked with a dusky-pink duvet, white sheets, and lots of pink and white pillows.
Damon whoops, drops his bag, picks me up in his arms, and strides through to toss me onto the bed. I squeal and bounce, but before I can rise, he climbs on top of me and presses me into the mattress.
“I think we can spare fifteen minutes before we get ready for dinner,” he says. “I’ve got the perfect starter.” He kisses me fiercely, then leaves my lips to kiss down my body.
My mouth opens, but no words come out. Does he mean…? He unbuttons my jeans, and in seconds he’s tugged off my Converses, peeled my jeans down my legs, and removed my underwear. I guess the answer’s yes.
“Damon! I… oh…” I flop back with a groan as he pushes my knees apart, and without further ado, slides his tongue into my folds. “Oh fuck.” The feeling is exquisite.
I’ve been thinking about him doing this all day, and so I’m not surprised when he lifts his head and teases, “Ready for me, already, Belle? I don’t think this is going to take very long.”
“Mmph,” I reply, covering my face with my hands. It’s embarrassing how turned on I am. His tongue contains more magic than any of the tricks I can do.
He flicks my clit with the tip, and then his fingers join in the fun, and slowly but surely, he teases me to the edge, as he slides his fingers inside me and presses firmly on what I’ve realized is my G-spot. I never thought they existed, but it doesn’t surprise me that Damon’s found mine.
Ooh, that feels good. It’s been far less than his prescribed fifteen minutes, but I can already feel my tummy tightening. “Oh my God,” I whisper, sinking a hand into his hair. He murmurs his approval, covers my clit with his mouth and sucks, and that’s it—I come hard, clenching around his fingers with six or seven exquisite pulses.
When I’m done, I flop back, and he moves up the bed to lie beside me, propping his head on a hand.
“Hungry?” he asks when I eventually open my eyes.
“Famished.”
