Chapter 10
Samantha
My heart beats fast and hard and without any pain at all as Damon pushes me firmly against his bedroom wall and buries his face in my neck. His nimble fingers are busy with the row of buttons running down the front of my dress, pushing the fabric down off my shoulders as he goes. My head lolls back against the wall and I whimper as sensations I’ve never experienced before start rushing through me.
His mouth starts traveling into my cleavage as he frees me from the dress one arm at a time, then pushes the navy-blue fabric down to my waist. He lifts me effortlessly, nibbling at my exposed chest before reaching back one-handed to unfasten the catch of my bra. He’s gentle, but fast, leaving me once again with that wild thrill of feeling like I’ve been pushed past my own control.
I want him to do this, but I don’t have the words for it. I don’t even know why I want it so badly until his agile tongue darts under the edge of my loosened bra cup and grazes my nipple. I gasp, my eyes gone enormous, and suddenly I’m eagerly pulling off my bra the rest of the way myself.
He runs his knee up between my thighs to support me as he takes my nipple roughly in his mouth. His first long pull makes me whimper loudly and stretch against the wall, my nails clawing his shoulders through his shirt. His grip tightens and he starts sucking again, long, rough pulls that mix pain and pleasure in just the right way.
I try to muffle my cries at first, but after a while, I just can’t. He moves from breast to breast, holding me firmly while I arch back against the hard wood, squirm, and clench my legs around his knee. My hips are rolling unconsciously, grinding my pussy against the muscle of his thigh, and finally I get too turned on to care how much noise I make.
My cries rise slowly, long moans growing sharper and louder as he intensifies what he’s doing to me. His free hand wanders down to unfasten more buttons, unwrapping me like a present. Under my dress, I’m in a matching set of thigh-high stockings and panties.
He leaves the stockings on. As for the panties, he grips my whole pussy through them and starts kneading me in time to the movements of his mouth. Powerful jolts of pleasure start running up from my groin to mix with the ones his mouth teases from me, and I feel one of my shoes drop to the floor as I lift my feet from the ground.
The other drops as I wrap my legs around his hips, shimmying reflexively as his hand moves between us. I can’t seem to keep my breath in my lungs any more. My throat burns, my lungs strain, and yet everything I do and feel is edged with pleasure so intense that it almost scares me.
He groans harshly and grips the panties—then tears the little triangle of damp cloth off me entirely to get it out of his way. I feel his fingers stroking and exploring me, and then his head lifts slowly from my breast as he raises his eyes to mine. He lets out a shuddering breath, then shifts his grip on me and carries me toward the bed.
I sob in frustration as he stops pleasuring me, my body on fire with the need for him to go on. Instead, he throws me onto the bed and leaves me to writhe as he tears off his own clothes. I see a few buttons pop off his dress shirt. When he shoves his pants and boxers down, he gasps with relief.
I see the tool he’ll soon be using on me and almost—almost—freeze up. It’s big enough that a guy of his strength could tear me up easily. Smooth, sleek, a little curved ...I crave it and feel pretty damn intimidated at the same time.
He grabs me by the hips and drags me toward the edge of the bed, crouching there, and starts stroking my cunt again while he positions himself with his other hand. I close my eyes, forcing myself to focus on the two fingers stroking me just above where he’s slowly starting to push inside.
The pressure intensifies the mounting pleasure inside of me instead of drawing away from it, and I gasp in amazement and squirm as he slides deeper and deeper into me. I hear him groan, then feel the muscles in his belly working against me as he sinks in deeper. I look up and see him propped over me on one hand, his eyes closed and his lips parted in bliss.
He leans down over me, covering my body completely, and I grab hold of him with arms and legs and hang on for dear life as his hips thrust deep and push me into the mattress. The bed bounces under me as he drives himself into me again and again; his fingers caress me in time to his thrusts until I’m lifting my hips to meet him. In seconds we’ve found a rhythm and I find myself riding toward a peak I’ve never known.
His breath growls harshly in my ear as our bellies slap together. His hand between us trembles but he keeps stroking me. Inside me I feel a fuse being lit—my back arches slowly upward, whole body taut as he pounds into me, and time suddenly slows.
A wave of sensation expands outward from my pussy, so intense that I thrash and wail like he’s stabbing me, but I’m crying for more. Torrents of pleasure roar through me over and over, leaving me crying and clawing at his back as he moves almost violently against me.
I croon, shiver, and shimmy against him, rolling my hips to feel him inside me better while he grits his teeth and starts to shout between gasps for air. He speeds up his thrusts, the shouts growing louder and hoarser as I feel the tremble starting in his hips. His hoarse cries and tremors excite me. I feel his surging cock set off aftershocks inside of me that make me whimper again.
He suddenly arches his back hard, pushing me so deeply into the mattress that the bedsprings creak hard. A long, almost agonized groan echoes off the walls as his cock twitches and jerks inside of me. He grinds his hips slowly, his gasping dying down, and then settles over me with a sigh.
We drowse together and make love again as soon as we have the strength—gently this time, slow, and curled on our sides. This time, when I climax, I almost weep with the tenderness of it and realize how much I’m looking forward to more nights like this. We sleep a while, and then I wake up and realize I’m sticky, sore, and desperately want some of our leftover pizza.
When I come out of the shower, I’m reluctant to dress, but without anything else to wear unless I raid his closet, I shove myself back into my bra and dress and step into my shoes. Letting out a sigh, I look down at Damon sleeping quietly ...and then move past him toward the living room and the kitchen beyond.
It’s just barely before dawn and I’m still almost too sleepy to walk properly, let alone think. I notice a washing rig on the other side of the window, with a big man in a jumpsuit and hard hat standing on it, doing something to the glass. Whatever it is makes a little screeching sound as he finishes up. Then I hear a sharp snap.
I don’t realize that he’s using a glass cutter until a big circle of glass falls into the room and shatters, letting in a blast of freezing wind. I let out a scream of shock and horror—and then the big man bulls through the gap and grabs me, clapping one giant, gloved mitt over my mouth.