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The idea of being able to shed her badassery like a snake shedding its skin held a lot of appeal. Every day her job required her to be focused, in control and making most, if not all, of the decisions. What might it be like to be able to surrender that control to someone else in some areas of her life, to be able to sink into peaceful submission and find solace and a place where she wasn’t responsible for anything except receiving?
Miley had no intention of giving up her job with Cerberus, but would it be so bad to allow it to evolve and change? Damon was right; Fitz was always looking to expand. Charleston might be a good fit. If she just allowed herself to yield, was there a possibility that she could have it all? That she could find the balance that so many of her colleagues had found? King, Royce, Dillon, Sawyer, Rhiannon, Nigel, and even Fitz himself?
What might her life look like if she could leave her responsibilities at the door and focus on giving and receiving pleasure? If she could narrow down to things that weren’t life or death or that wouldn’t have a huge impact on someone else if she didn’t ensure everything was perfect…what would that look like?
Damon carried her to the bed, rendered her naked and laying her out on it like she was some precious, priceless thing he wanted to ensure was undamaged and comfortable.
“Relax, Miley,” he said softly, but not so softly that she didn’t hear and recognize the underlying command in his voice. “I want you to wake up in the morning sated, rested, and happy. I’m going to take care of you.”
Stretching out beside her, he ran his hand up her body from her knee up to her shoulder, his fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps all along her skin. He traced each scar, imperfection, and place he could feel she’d been broken or hurt.
“I’m going to want to know about each and every one of these someday, but for now, I just want you to close your eyes and revel in what I’m doing.”
“That’s no fun. You’re so gorgeous I want to be able to look at you,” she purred, meaning it.
His thumb and forefinger closed on her nipple as he tweaked it. “Don’t be a brat. Give over to me, Miley. Let me take control.”
Giving up control. The idea had once been terrifying for her, but over the years had grown into a want so deep that it had become a kind of elusive dream, and yet here was Damon offering just that. His words alone seduced and intoxicated her, not to mention the feel of his strong hand and presence. Someone to take care of her? When had that ever happened? There’d been plenty of people to tend to her wounds, and her friends cared deeply about her, but allowing herself to trust and become reliant on someone was a foreign concept. She’d learned, often the hard way, not to trust anyone—not completely. She might trust them with her body, even with her life, but not with her heart or soul. That had been her whole world, but it didn’t have to be anymore.
In Damon’s world, she didn’t have to be strong, responsible, and brave Miley. She could give him what he wanted—responsibility for her being, her pleasure, her peace. He seemed to need it as much as she needed to offer it up to him. She shifted so that she was leaning toward him, giving him easier access as he nuzzled her neck.
His hand drifted up the inside of her thigh, his fingers parting her labia and drawing a line from the opening of her core, slipping just inside to draw out some of her own lubrication, up to her swollen nub, before swirling around it and retracing the path it had followed. The long, slow, deliciously sensual stroke of his hand made her body quiver in response, and she could feel arousal coursing through her system at breakneck speed in contrast to the leisurely way he played with her sex.
Damon’s lips closed over her nipple, flicking his tongue across the tip before sucking it into his mouth and suckling. His fingers penetrated her sheath and his thumb pressed down on her clit at the same time. The intense orgasm seizing her, making her cry out and shudder in its aftermath which was as powerful as it was overwhelming, and she clutched at his arm.
“That’s better,” he crooned. Not a question, but a statement of fact.
Miley had been right to run in London. Damon was a slippery slope she would topple down and from which she might never recover, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care because she was beginning to believe there would be no hurt, no wound from which she needed to heal.
“Do you have any idea how much I enjoyed that?” he asked.
“Enjoyed? I’m the one who climaxed.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. She was beginning to believe the single sexiest thing about Damon Knox was that damn chuckle. “Yes, but I’m the one who gave it to you. I’m the one you gave over to and allowed to pleasure you. Watching you sink to your knees, offering me your submission and giving over to me was every bit as pleasurable for me as coming was for you.”
“Offering myself to you and knowing you’d recognize what I was doing was almost as good as the orgasm.” She locked eyes with him and grinned. “Almost, but not quite.”
His hand which had been resting on her mound quickly found her clit and gave it a sharp pinch. “Don’t get cheeky with me, brat. I spanked you earlier today so you’d know I could. Don’t put me in the position where I have to truly discipline you, because I will. Don’t ever doubt that for a minute.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, dropping her eyes and nuzzling the hollow of his throat. “You do know that sarcastic snark is kind of my signature MO, right?”
“So I’ve noticed, and it’s fine in moderation. If you start to go too far, I’ll give you a warning, but the potty mouth has to go. You are far too intelligent and beautiful to use foul language as casually as you do.”
“I’ll try to curb the language.”
“Good girl,” he rumbled to her, the sound skittering along her skin before sinking in and making her feel warm all over.
Miley reveled in being close to him. He gave a new meaning to intimacy, which was far more encompassing than just sex. She needed affection, attention, and discipline. Within a framework like that she knew she could flourish and thrive. She needed to have someone who could and would care for her at the end of the day when she’d finished taking care of everyone else.
She realized that Damon needed different, but complementary things: he needed to be needed, not just for his money or power, but for himself. Someone who could stand at his side and support him regardless of his social status. Someone who would care for him and offer him the submission he needed and seemed to crave.
Miley’s hand dropped to the base of his cock. “May I touch you, Sir?” He nodded and then his entire body seemed to shiver as she trailed a line of kisses down his torso and nudged him more onto his back. He gripped the bedclothes and hissed as she ran her tongue over the head of his cock, flicking her tongue across the weeping slit.
Moving her hair out of the way, she rolled her tongue over him, licking the hard length from the head to the root. She let her hand reach under to cup his balls, which were heavy and had drawn up close to his body. Wrapping her hand around his cock, she stroked him as she swirled her tongue around the head of his dick, lapping up the arousal she found there and sucking him into her mouth.
The groan that escaped him made her smile as she hummed around his cock, letting the vibration add to the stimulation. She could feel his balls swelling and was disappointed only for a moment when he fisted her hair and pulled her off him. She was pretty damn sure it wasn’t because he hadn’t been enjoying her affectionate attention, but more that he wanted to bury himself deep inside her—another want and need they shared.
She lifted her face to his, inviting his kiss. An invitation he accepted with hunger, groaning as his lips came down on hers. His cock was now throbbing between them. There was no doubt that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He didn’t fumble around or ask permission, he pushed her onto her back, rolling on top of her and making a place for himself at her core.
