Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
He reaches up and teases my nipples, sensations rocking through my body, clenching my sex, and my fingers dive roughly into his hair.
I don’t know how those small acts unleash the wild in us, but they do. Our hunger for one another erupts and suddenly we are kissing, swaying, touching each other. My body is hypersensitive to everything he does, and I have no reserve. I ride him, rock against him, while he kisses me, fucks me, and just plain drives me wild. I am so very close to orgasm, the best kind of orgasm, with him inside me. I want it. I press into reaching for it, but I also don’t want this to end.
Somehow his mouth ends up on my nipple, sucking as I sway against him, and that’s all she wrote. I gasp and hold onto him while my body stiffens and then shatters. It is the most intense orgasm of my life. Damion groans, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me against his cock with a hard thrust. And then he’s right there with me, his face buried in my neck as his body quakes beneath mine.
We end with him collapsed on the chair and me collapsed on top of him, for I don’t know how long, both of us breathing heavily. We just lay there, long moments passing, and I really don’t want to leave this spot. Because when we do, when reality returns, we are one giant lifetime of goodbyes.
Chapter Thirteen
“Let’s go clean up, baby,” Damion says softly, stroking my hair, and before I can respond, he’s standing and taking me with him.
Suddenly, I’m thinking about him and his it’ll kill me when I lose you statement, or whatever it was he said, but it told a story. He’s already decided we are temporary. A few seconds later, he deposits me on the floor of his massive, sparkling master bathroom and hands me a towel. I accept his offering, and when he reaches for another, I make my escape. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I declare, and dart around him and enter the stall, shutting the door and leaning against it.
I don’t actually pee when I probably should—the whole after sex thing—but I clean up and sit on the edge of the toilet seat. What am I doing with Damion? Why can’t I ever just walk away? Because, I think, he gives me all the feels, and no one else ever has. And because I’ve tasted his pain and felt it, too, and I don’t really understand where it comes from but it makes me feel like he needs me.
A loud knock on the door has me jolting. “Alana?”
“Yes?” My voice trembles ridiculously in a telling way with that one single word.
“You okay in there?”
I stare down at the sparkling ring on my finger, a ring he really did pick for me, which means something. It might even mean a whole heck of a lot. I’d tried to take it off, but Damion had rejected the idea, and insisted I wear it. Because he wanted me to? Because he’s afraid I’ll walk away before he’s ready. “I just need a minute, okay?”
“Can you take it with me?” he asks softly and there is a vulnerability in his voice I’ve rarely heard in our lifetime of knowing each other. My belly clenches as I remember that he only shows that softer side of himself to me, or at least, I think he does.
I run my hand through my hair and stand up, but I’m ridiculously nervous to open the door, and I really don’t understand why. “Can you just give me a minute, please?”
“Please don’t shut me out,” he replies, and the plea that defies his cool control and confidence, is what does me in. It means something, just like the ring, and him wanting me to wear it does, too.
I open the door.
He’s standing there in long slung sweatpants, his ridiculously perfect body stretched tall, his arm resting on the doorframe above my head, his gaze probing, as he searches my face, but not for long. He drags me close, folding me into his long, lean muscle, as he declares, “I love you, woman. You have to know that. You have to feel it.”
I don’t doubt this to be true. I’ve never doubted we love each other. There are few people who endure a lifetime of drifting apart and coming back together as we have, but—there are so many buts. I just don’t really know where that love falls in a sea of possibilities. My fingers curl on his chest. “I love you, too. I always have. I always will. Also, I really need a shirt or something. Please? Because I can’t be naked when you’re not, not right now.”
“I’d rather just take you back to bed.”