by Eden Finley
The possessiveness takes me off guard, because I’ve never had that with anyone. I don’t even know if the feeling is temporary or long-term. The only thing keeping my mouth glued shut is the fear it will go away. I don’t want it to. All I know is, I’ve never wanted anyone more, and if he makes me chase him for months like his sister did, I’d do it. And I wouldn’t give up this time, because it’s different with Damon. This isn’t about sex. If it was, I would’ve ditched Damon as soon as I found out about his issues and hooked up with Noah instead. Or a chick. I wouldn’t be willing to tie Damon to a bed just so he’d let me touch him. I wouldn’t care to work through the shit going on in his head.
My epiphany might be insignificant to most people, but Maddox O’Shay realizing he wants to try a relationship? Better call NASA, because I’m sure an asteroid is headed for Earth.
“You okay?” Damon whispers.
I’m frozen on top of him. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. I’m not going to start spouting random I-want-you-so-fucking-bad speeches.
When he struggles against his restraints, I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrists to stop him before he freaks out.
“Let me finish. I don’t know, because I have no fucking clue where to start. There are so many dirty images running through my head right now, and I want to do all of them.”
He relaxes and that easy grin of his takes over. “That’s simple. I want you to kiss me. So start there.”
Our mouths come together, and even though I’m the one on top, and he’s tied to the bed, Damon’s the one in control.
The kiss we shared at Chastity’s wedding is a blur now. I don’t remember if he tasted like he does now—warm with a hint of beer on his breath. I don’t remember the stubble around his lips. The adrenaline pumping through me wore off and took my exact memories with it. And earlier tonight was frantic—the pent-up tension from the last month releasing itself in the moment. This time, I’m going to savor it.
Damon has other ideas. His hips roll and lift off the bed, grinding against me.
“Someone’s impatient,” I say.
“Yeah, well, someone else has already gotten off tonight. Maybe he’s not impatient because he hasn’t been hard for hours.”
“Hours … really? It’s been like two. There are starving kids in Africa.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Damon asks.
“Isn’t that what you measure everything against? It was my sister’s comeback for everything. If I complained of being cold, she’d say—yeah, well, there are starving kids in Africa. Meaning, there are always people worse off than you.”
“I dunno. Pretty sure you can die from blue balls.”
“Pretty sure you’re lying,” I say.
“Fine. It just feels like I’m dying.” He rolls his hips again. His cock rubs against mine, and fuck, he is hard. Impossibly hard.
“Guess I have some work to do then.” My lips drop to his shoulder, and I pepper light kisses down his chest.
Foreplay for me has always been just that—a way to get a girl ready so I could fuck her. And as selfish as it is, if she got off while I went down on her, it meant I didn’t have to work as hard while fucking her. Yeah, I’m a real catch. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the foreplay, but more it was a means to get to where I needed to go. With Damon, I want this. I’m enjoying his shortness of breath and his moans as I kiss his skin. I like exploring his hardened body, because I’ve never experienced it before. It’s new and exciting and hotter than I ever anticipated.
The only downside to this is I feel like a teenager again. My hands tremble, and insecurities about not knowing what the fuck I’m doing seep in.
But then I gaze at Damon and take in his slightly parted mouth and his flushed cheeks and think I’ve so got this.
I move agonizingly slow on purpose, not only because it seems to frustrate him, which turns me on, but because it gives me time to work through the nerves. I need to get over them soon because I won’t be able to keep this level of control for long. I want him under me. On top of me. All over me.
My mouth traces his hairless chest, and I love the smooth, flat skin of his pecs under my tongue. I moan around his nipple, and he hisses. As I move farther down, a small trail of dark hair leads from his belly button to my end goal.
He lets out an impatient grunt when my hands fumble with his belt and zipper. I glance up at him, and his biceps bulge as he holds onto the headboard he’s strapped to. I already know Damon doesn’t like giving up control. Having me take the lead has to be hard for him, but for me, seeing him on the last thread of his restraint, I’ve never seen anything sexier.
I’m the one in charge, and the power trip goes straight to my head.
Leaning back on my heels and kneeling in front of him, I reach back and take my shirt off. I want skin on skin. I want everything.
Damon watches me as I climb off the bed and stand. His eyes follow my hand as I drop my pants and kick them off with my shoes and socks. He helps me by toeing off his own shoes, and then I’m reaching for his jeans.
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “Do you know how hard it is not to boss you around right now?”
“Yup. And I love it. This is my show.”
Damon throws his head back. “Can you at least go a bit faster?”
What do I do? I take off his pants and boxers so slow I’m sure it’s some kind of record for the slowest undressing in history.
“Just so you know, I hate you,” he grumbles.
“You won’t in a minute.” I blanket his body, our cocks lining up perfectly. The smallest roll of my hips has me panting. “God, this feels good,” I say as our bodies move against one another.
“Take us both in your hand,” he orders.
“My show,” I remind him. “Or do I need to gag you like you did to me?”
“You can stop me from talking by kissing me.” Damon loves my mouth, I’m finding out. And I’m one hundred percent cool with that.
I put all my weight on my left side as I kiss him, and move my right hand down and in between us. It’s hard to get my fist around us both, but I slick us with precum from … I don’t know which one of us it’s from. Probably both.
I’m painfully hard, my balls heavy and my cock ready to explode. I give us a hard pump, and the air turns serious. Gone are the jokes, the teasing, the going slow. My wrist is at an odd angle, but the pain isn’t enough to take away from the pleasure zinging through my body. All that’s left between us is the need to come.
It takes all my strength to hold off. I don’t want Damon to come in my hand—I want my mouth on him—but I’m reluctant to pull away.
Damon rips his mouth away from mine and grunts.
“Not yet,” I say and frantically release us both. “Come in my mouth.” I don’t know where my boldness has come from, and after my nerves, part of me thinks I would be a little hesitant to do this, but I’m not. I want it. I want it all. In an instant, I’m sliding down him so I’m eye-level with his impressive cock. Its velvety skin is pulled tight, ready for release.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Fucking duh.”
I never understood when girls say they love giving head because it means they’re in control. I’m always like Yeah, okay, you’re the one with my cock in your mouth. Pretty sure fucking your face means I hold all the cards. But as my mouth wraps around Damon, and he squirms underneath me, I understand it completely. I’m in charge of when he comes. I’m the one driving him crazy. His salty skin tastes so fucking good I could do this forever. Or until my jaw locks up—one or the other.
And okay, yeah, relaxing my throat is difficult at first because my gag reflex is telling me I can’t take much more, but I’m determined to be awesome at this. Except, when I push through it, I push too far, and a weird snorting choking sound comes out of my nose, because I refuse to clamp down on Damon’s dick.
“You don’t have to take it
all,” Damon says, his voice breathless. “Do what you like being done to you. You’ll know if I like it.”
In that case, I grip the base of him with my hand, and the heel of my palm makes circles on his balls.
“Fuck yes,” he hisses.
I continue to pump my hand while I suck the tip of him in my mouth and slowly move down his shaft. My tongue finds that sensitive vein on the underside of his dick, and if the oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck that comes out of his mouth has anything to say, I guess he likes that.
His encouragement turns me on the most, and my dick leaks. I need to touch myself. My spare hand reaches between my legs, and Damon’s “Ughnamlgh” has our eyes locking.
“So hot watching you touch yourself. I’m gonna …”
I suck harder with my mouth. He comes on a strangled cry, and he fills my mouth. I’m hit with more of his saltiness, and the taste has me shooting all over my hand and on his thigh. The orgasm makes my brain short-circuit, and I’m cut off from the rest of my body.
I can’t even bring myself to climb up next to him right now. Flopping onto the mattress, I roll onto my side, my face right next to his crotch.
“A-plus for effort,” Damon pants. “B-minus for technique. We’ll work on it.”
I try to slap his ass, but my arms are lead, and I can only reach his leg. “Ass.”
“I’m kidding, I swear. That was …”
“Awesome?”
“Yeah. That. Come up here.” His hand runs through my hair.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be tied up.”
“Like you said, it was loose. Come. Up. Here.”
I wiggle my way up next to him, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders and brings me into his side.
“Regrets?” he asks quietly, as if expecting me to say yes and kick him out.
“Can’t regret coming like a motherfucker twice in one night.”
“Do you want me to get out? I know how you manwhores hate when a hookup outstays their welcome.”
I pull back. “You think this was a hookup? After I told you I want to date you?”
Damon shrugs. “I thought the dating was going to be separate to … uh …”—he waves his hand around—“this.”
“Granted, I haven’t dated a lot of people—okay, no one—but isn’t it all the same? I want you to stay the night.”
“Can we at least clean up before we pass out?”
I roll on top of him and cover more of him in my come. “Can’t move.”
“We’ll have a quick shower. Together.”
“Sold.” I jump out of bed and practically race him to my bathroom.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DAMON
It’s been too long since I woke up next to someone. I’m not including the weekend I spent at Maddox’s parents’ house, because that’s not like this. Not with my dick resting in the cleft of his bare ass while I spoon him.
I wasn’t lying last night when I said I usually like to top, and being this close to his ass is making morning wood more than uncomfortable. But with Maddox, if he rolled over right now and told me he wanted to fuck me, I wouldn’t hesitate. In fact, the thought of it alone has me groaning into the back of his neck as I try to wake him with kisses.
His hand swats my head. “It’s not morning yet.”
“Yeah, it is.”
He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and the screen lights up. “It’s already nine? My—” There’s a knock at the door. “Right on time.”
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“My birth mother.”
“Your what?” I exclaim.
“You see what you miss when you avoid me? Get up and get dressed. I’ll explain later.”
Maddox mentioned something last night about family drama, but then we got too distracted to get into it. I jump up and dress as fast as I can, just in time for Maddox to let the blonde woman into his apartment. She drags a suitcase behind her.
“Aunt Cheri, this is Damon,” Maddox says.
“Ah, the boyfriend,” she says, her voice warm and smile-friendly.
“Ah, the birth mother …” My voice goes up at the end as if it’s a question. Maddox’s aunt is his mother?
Maddox turns to his aunt … mother … person. “Sorry, I kinda just sprung this on him. He’s been busy lately, and we haven’t spent any time together. Not exactly the type of conversation you have over the phone.”
Cheri nods. “Of course. How are you doing with it all now? I know it was a shock, but—”
“Mom and Dad will always be my parents, but I’m glad to get the answers to questions I’ve had forever. And I want to help you any way I can.”
“Help?” I ask, even though I probably shouldn’t. It’s not my business.
“Aunt Cheri needs a place to crash for a few days while she undergoes experimental treatment here in the city. She has MS.”
Damn. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Cheri waves us off. “It’s okay, and I promise I won’t stay long. I’m fine with sleeping on the couch.”
“You can take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” Maddox says.
My eyes go to his couch which is lucky to fit my sister on it who’s a short-ass. No way Maddox would be comfortable there. “You could stay with me,” I find myself saying.
So much for going slow. The words fall out of my mouth without thought, but I don’t like the thought of not seeing him for a while after last night. And he did say it’ll only be a few days.
His lips quirk. “Or I could stay with Damon.”
Cheri smiles. “How about I take you boys out for brunch to say thanks.”
“Uh, okay,” Maddox says, sounding a little unsure.
I agree to it even though I need to get home to study. Blowing it off again after not doing any last night is going to sting when I fall behind, but Maddox seems out of his element with Cheri. Maddox says she’s a hippie and expresses free love and whatever, but it has to be hard finding out your mom’s not really your mom.
We walk one block to a diner, and Cheri starts in on us as soon as the waitress takes off with our orders. “So, I hope you don’t mind me saying anything, but your dad gave me the impression you two weren’t together.”
Maddox already told his parents we broke up? That was always the plan, but I didn’t realize he’d do it so soon.
“Ah, about that,” Maddox says. “I didn’t realize Dad had blabbed. When I took Damon home with me, we were just friends. Now we’re …”
My eyes widen. What are we? He says he wants to date me, sure, but it’s too early for the boyfriend title. One night together doesn’t make a relationship.
“More than friends,” he finishes.
I can live with that.
“It’s a long story,” I say. And I’d really like to hear the end part that I’m missing. “What’s this trial you’re involved in?”
Cheri’s hands shake with a small tremor, but she pulls them into her lap under the table to hide them. “It’s a clinical trial for new medication to slow down the advancement of MS. Because mine’s advanced faster than anticipated, I’m the perfect lab rat.”
“Hopefully it works,” Maddox says.
“I won’t even know which group I’m in. I might be in the control group who are given placebos, but I’ve got nothing to lose. Literally. I’ve already spent my life savings on treatment.”
“You don’t have insurance?” I try to keep the judgment from my tone.
“My insurance covers some but not all.”
“How are you paying for the trial?” Maddox asks.
“The cost of the trial is covered by the pharmaceutical company running it.”
“Then we should really hope it works,” Maddox says.
When our food comes, Cheri turns the subject back to Maddox and his life. He says how he’s always had the desire to travel, and her face lights up.
“You must get it from me,” she says.
He matches her smile. “You’re probably right.�
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I don’t think something like that is genetic, but I don’t say anything. I’m not that much of a dick. They’ve found some common ground to bond over. I’m not going to shit all over that.
By the time we finish the meal, Cheri has practically mapped out a trip for Maddox with all the things he must see and do when he gets the chance. It sounds amazing, and I find myself wanting to plan it together—travel together. But I know it’s way too soon for that. I think I’ve inserted myself into Maddox’s life too much already by inviting him to stay with me for a few days. That might be the manwhore’s quota of clinginess for a while.
The waitress comes back with our check, and Cheri reaches for it. “My treat, remember?” I almost get a thank you out when she reaches into her bag. “Oh, shoot. My wallet isn’t here.” She rummages some more but comes up empty. “I must’ve left it in my suitcase back at your apartment.”
Maddox chuckles, as if it’s not the first time Cheri’s forgotten something. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get this one.”
“Thanks, honey. I should get going. I need to be at the hospital in fifteen for my first appointment.”
Maddox reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “Here, I had this made for you while you’re staying. Can you find your way back to the apartment? I, uh, need to talk to Damon for a sec.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been to New York plenty of times. You two stay here and finish up.” She stands and glides out the door. Even though she’s dressed for early spring in New York, she has that hippie swagger where she seems to float.
“So, that’s my birth mom.”
“Crazy,” I say absently, still staring at the door.
“What’s that look for?”
I school my features into passiveness. “Look? I didn’t realize I was doing a look.”
“She’s trippy, huh? I’m surprised she’s going for treatment. She always came across as the hippie I’ll-do-it-naturally type. Like she could cure MS with acupuncture.”
“I’m guessing that was the family drama you mentioned?”
“Yeah. I was so pissed I had to get out of the house. That’s why I ended up in Matt’s motel room.”