by Julie Olsen
He tugged my hand and I stepped toward him. “Where is your room, Olivia?” His seductive tone made me tingle. Once again, I was breathless.
“Upstairs.”
“Too far,” he said softly, and he tugged until I was flush against him. In a nanosecond he turned me so that my back was against the door, and then his arms encircled me and his mouth captured mine in a lush kiss. All conscious thought abandoned me as I strained against him, opening my mouth wider to allow his searching tongue full access. I moved my hands up and splayed my fingers against his hard chest, feeling rippling muscle beneath his shirt. I flexed my fingers, gently digging my nails into his skin and eliciting a low groan against my mouth.
His arms relaxed and his hands cupped my breasts, kneading firmly, almost painfully. I gasped into his mouth, my body shuddering against his hands as arousal burned hot and heavy through me. I arched into his hands, my breasts full and wanting. Leaving my greedy mouth, his lips traveled down my jaw to my neck, sucking softly at my flesh and then soothing it with his tongue. I threw my head back, panting, and my arms found their way around his neck, clasping him tightly against me, hungry to feel his skin on mine.
His hands stopped their seductive torture of my breasts, and he dropped to his knees before me. I was dizzy with arousal and with the sudden loss of his body against mine, and I cried out, nearly toppling headfirst over his shoulders.
He grabbed my hips, steadying me. “Shh, I’ve got you.” My hands grasped his shoulders, and I stared down into his eyes, dark with lust and surely mirroring my own.
“My God, you’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes like pools of molten desire. I wanted to dive into their depths and sink to the very bottom. I had never been so turned on in my life.
Still kneeling before me, he caressed my sides, from hip to waist and back, again and again, smoothing my curves, his eyes never leaving mine. His hands moved to my backside, running hotly over every inch of my butt. I couldn’t have looked away even if I wanted to, so completely captured as I was in his gaze.
“As much as I’d love to fuck you while you’re wearing these,” he murmured, his hands straying to my boots, “I think they have to go.” His words, so intimate and bold, made me want to combust. I gripped his shoulders tighter, feeling his muscles bunch under my hands, as his fingers slowly traced against the zipper, from my ankle up the inside of my thigh. I had never had a man undress me and the intimacy was almost too much. Finally breaking his gaze, I squeezed my eyes shut and moved my head back to brace myself against the door.
“Watch me, Olivia,” he said gruffly and my eyes snapped open on his command. His hands encircled my thigh, the fingers of one hand paused at the top of my zipper, his hands grazing my skin above my boot. It was torture of the most exquisite kind. Slowly he began to unzip, the process taking forever. Why did I wear these, when simple heels would have taken no time at all to remove? I cringed at the thought of my unsightly knee and elbows, and the assorted bruises all over my body.
“Damien,” I breathed. I didn’t want him to see me like this.
His hot hand slipped inside my now open boot, caressing my calf and running up the inside of my bare thigh. My eyes closed again of their own accord, soaking in the sensation of his hands on my skin, so deliciously close to my sex.
“Oh God,” I uttered.
“Let me see.” He grasped my leg behind my knee and gently lifted my foot out of the boot. Balancing on my now bare leg, he pulled my booted leg straight out and rested it on his thigh then continued his torment, sliding his hand up my leg until his fingers arrived at the top of the zipper. He was quicker this time, unzipping in one fluid motion and pulling the boot off so I could stand without wobbling. The new skin on my knee was palest pink in the softly lit room, and he bent his head toward it while also raising questioning eyes upward.
“Does it hurt?” he asked hoarsely. I shook my head, incapable of speech, as he covered my knee with kiss after gentle kiss. “I wanted to do this that night, when I saw you in the street after that fucker hit you.”
He stood and pulled me against him, my breasts crushed against his hard chest. My hands glided across his glorious torso and shoulders, finally settling in his hair. Running my fingers through the silky strands, I grasped handfuls and pulled hard, feeling his groan against my mouth. He was all hot, hard muscle and clean, male scent. It was intoxicating, and a tiny moan escaped me as his mouth slanted over mine, possessing me with his tongue, his lips eating at mine in a way that made my sex clench to think what else those lips could do.
Sliding an arm beneath my bottom and with his other firmly wrapped around my torso, I was only just aware of movement, and then I felt the couch beneath my back, my legs draped over the arm. He folded himself over me, supporting himself with one arm while the other hand followed the line of my body, drifting up from my leg, across the curve of my hip, past my waist until it firmly cupped my breast. Any shred of modesty had long since deserted me, and I arched into his palm, the friction of his hot hand making my beaded nipple harden even more.
“Ahh, Damien,” I panted. The slow burn in my belly settled firmly at the juncture of my thighs causing my sex to pulsate and clench. I was beyond needy for his touch, his kiss. “Please,” I whimpered, my voice desperate and breathy.
“Take my hand, baby.” He peered over me, tension etched on his gorgeous face, his eyes drinking me in. He pulled me up so I was perched on the arm of the couch. “Is this what you want?” he asked as he grasped the hem of my dress, wordlessly urging me to raise my hips so he could move the fabric up and over them.
“Yes.” Without shame I placed my hands beneath myself and lifted up. My feet touched the ground and as Damien pulled my dress up, I was balanced enough to reach for him. My face was at his chest, and I leaned forward and pressed against him, breathing in his seductive smell. He continued to peel my dress off, and I raised my arms so he could remove it completely. My lacy bra and panties matched the wine color of my dress. He stepped back and let a hot gaze run over the length of my body.
He tossed my dress on the adjacent chair and then moved swiftly, cupping my face and bending to kiss me like a man possessed, devouring my lips, his tongue stroking against mine, probing every area of my mouth. My thighs sprang open involuntarily, and he moved between them. My fingers found his top button and shakily worked it free, moving down his chest unbuttoning each button until his shirt hung open. I broke away from his kiss and pulled his shirt free, seeing for the first time the gloriousness that was his chest.
Tanned skin stretched tightly across a network of muscled flesh, and my hands moved of their own accord. My fingers slid over his pronounced pecs, smoothly chiseled. He clearly worked out, and often. I ran my fingers over his tight nipples and heard a sharp intake of breath. Muscles rippled his stomach, and I let my fingers play against his hard ridges and smooth lines, eventually finding their way to the smattering of hair running from his belly button down past the button of his jeans. I wanted my tongue against that hair, and I leaned in to press kisses down his stomach.
“Olivia, not so fast,” he said, cupping my head and drawing it up to meet his gaze. “Ladies first.” He smiled wickedly, then reaching around me, unhooked my bra with a deftness I willed myself not to analyze. He dragged it from my arms as he gently pushed me back until my shoulders lay against the seat of the couch. My butt was on the couch arm, my thighs spread to keep my balance. I was wearing nothing but my panties and something told me I would soon be divested of those also.
“You are so fucking sexy. You drive me crazy.” He drank me in, his eyes missing nothing as his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. I felt at a disadvantage, undressed as I was and he still had all his clothes on.
As if reading my mind, he unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged off his shirt. My mouth watered and I swallowed, breathing heavily. Stepping back, he toed off his shoes, then moved to grab assorted throw pillows. “Up you get,” he ordered,
and I arched as he slid the pillows under my back, supporting me. “I want you to be comfortable, Olivia,” he said darkly, and there could be no doubt as to his intentions.
I dragged my gaze from his delectably muscled chest to his eyes and connected with his glittering stare. I was bare except for my panties, and spread out on my own couch with his eyes moving over my body. I knew what was coming, but when he kneeled by my legs, a wave of shyness swept over me and I closed my thighs.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he scolded, and his hands zinged as he touched me, spreading me open to his gaze. His lips parted and he exhaled, and I could feel his hot breath on my panties. “You’re lucky I don’t turn on all the lights so I can see ev-ery-thing.”
A pulsating jolt of heat spread through me, tightening my nipples on its way to my throbbing clit. My breasts ached for his touch, but he clearly did not intend to focus on them. I could see everything from my vantage point below him as his head moved between my legs. He leaned in and ran his tongue along the inside of my thigh, kissing and nipping as he went, before returning the favor to my other thigh.
He stopped and peered down at me, his eyes dark with forbidden promise. “You smell so good. I can’t wait to taste you.” His erotic words made me ache deep inside, and I raised my hips, knowing I should feel embarrassed, spread out before him and unable to mask my blatantly sexual reactions, but instead feeling nothing but pure lust and dark pleasure at what I obviously did to him.
“Put your feet on my shoulders, then lift your hips” he said, and I shamelessly complied, watching as he peeled my panties down my legs until I was completely naked.
With his eyes on mine, he leaned in, pressing his nose against my folds and breathing in deeply. I gasped, my clit throbbing and a low empty ache spreading, begging to be filled. His tongue darted out and a silky wetness rubbed against me, around and around and around. His fingers were splayed under my butt, his thumbs pressing into the tender hollow inside my thighs. I could feel his steady shoulders under my feet as I rocked onto his tongue. His hands came up around my hips and held me firmly against the couch arm. I was completely at his mercy.
“Don’t move, you’re going to fall off and hurt yourself again.”
I heard his words, but my body was not under my brain’s control anymore. My hips moved involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction against his tongue. I was a squirmy mess.
“Olivia, stay still, or I will restrain you,” he growled and this time his warning cut through the sexual thrall he had put me under.
What? A low moan escaped me and my core clenched at his command as my writhing slowed. I have never understood being restrained during sex and always thought of it as deviant, but something about his low authoritative tone made me want to obey. Or disobey…
“That’s better,” he whispered, blowing softly on my swollen sex and then moving his arms from around my hips, he parted me with his thumbs, exposing me in all my glory. Oh God.
“Beautiful,” he groaned, before once again burying his face between my legs.
He gave my throbbing flesh a long lick from opening to tip, and I threw my head back and cried out. I could feel a pressure building and yearned to roll my hips against his mouth and find the right rhythm.
“Damien, I need…” I panted, my voice high-pitched and desperate.
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“Ahh.”
I tried to stay still, I really did, but my hips began a slow grind against his mouth, and I could do nothing to stop them. He groaned against my sensitive flesh, sending a rippling current through me. I was so close, climbing, climbing. Forgetting all about his command, I writhed beneath his mouth, pushing my feet against his rock-solid shoulders as his tongue lashed at my swollen clit, his mouth finally latching onto the tip and sucking hard.
I spiraled, falling over the edge as a million colors burst before my eyes. I cried out his name as I came, my hips pumping against his mouth in wild abandon. He moved his arms to encircle my hips, immobilizing me again, his lips sucking softly, gentling me down from my orgasm.
He held me firmly, placing tender kisses all over my sex, and as my post-orgasmic fog lifted, I became aware of how completely exposed I was. My ragged breathing slowed and he looked up, his eyes dark and wicked, and his face…oh my God…his face was shiny.
“You smell so good, you taste like heaven. And now I need to know how you feel.” He inserted a finger inside me, slowly working it in and out, watching my face, and my libido soared back from her catnap.
I knew I should be embarrassed, lying wide open, exposed in every way. But his words, so explicit and uninhibited, made me feel empowered and sexy. He liked what he saw; his face with my juices on it was proof. Whatever he wanted, I would give to him. I wanted to please him.
“I want you,” I said, unable to take my eyes off his finger as it plunged in and out, over and over. I ached for him, the emptiness like a phantom lost limb. I needed to feel him inside me.
“Shh,” he breathed, slipping in another finger. “God, you’re so tight.” He turned his hand, palm up, and worked his fingers against the front wall of my vagina, rubbing at a tender spot over and over again.
My breath came in spurts. I could feel that exquisite pressure building again, from deeper inside this time. Oh God, another? My skin had become stretched and flushed, my breasts heavy and aching, and I cupped them, squeezing gently as he continued to slowly finger fuck me. He lowered his head and again his mouth was on me, licking and sucking softly, his eyes never leaving mine. My sex clamped around his fingers, tightening and releasing, and he sucked me in time to the same erotic rhythm, again and again.
“Just let go,” he said, and I fell apart, moaning indecipherably as I came hard, my body taut and bucking against his fingers. He watched me as I ground against him, animalistic and intimate, the connection with him bigger than anything I had ever known. Nothing else existed in that moment. I closed my eyes and let the pure bliss wash over me.
Distantly, a ripping noise prompted me to open my eyes. Damien stood at my feet, gloriously naked. His erection hugged his taut abdomen and he looked down at me darkly.
“Are you on birth control, Olivia?”
“Yes.” I squeaked, dragging my eyes away from him.
“This is for your protection, as well as mine,” he said, rolling the condom down his considerable length. He grasped my hips and pulled me up so my butt hung over the couch arm, and I was supported by my lower back.
His cock nudged just a little at my opening. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I promise.” He pushed inside a fraction and stopped, letting my body adjust to his size. His lips parted and he looked at me as if asking permission.
“I’m okay.” Lusciously stretched and awash in sensation, I stared at his cock as he pushed in a little further. I closed my eyes and threw back my head.
He pushed in another inch and I moaned. His torso bent over me, all rippling muscles and tanned skin. I reached up and traced the tight ridges and hard planes of his abs and chest, letting my hands wander as far as they could. I grabbed his nape and drew him down further, rising up on my elbows to meet his mouth in a deeply sensual kiss, all tongues and thrashing mouths and tasting of my salty arousal. It was so erotic and sexy and addicting. I needed to get closer, feel more of his skin on mine, but this position wouldn’t allow.
“How’s that, baby?” His voice was soft and strained.
“Oh God, Damien. More.”
I couldn’t hold the crunch any longer, and I collapsed back on the couch. Awash in ecstasy, I raised my hips. He gripped them tighter and, with his eyes on mine, he slid all the way in. We groaned together as I fully sheathed him. The fullness was exquisite. My spread thighs were wrapped around his trim waist and he took a moment to allow me to adjust to his size. He took one leg and moved it so that my foot was at his shoulder, and then he pulled out of me slowly.
“Jesus,” he growled
as he drew his cock completely out of me, pausing just a second before slowly plunging back in. Again, he withdrew fully, and slid inch by luscious inch back inside. And again, and again, over and over.
I took him to the hilt, the head of his rock-hard cock hitting the back wall of my vagina, bumping against my cervix on each pump. I was floating, rising up, lost in the otherworldly sensation of his body entering mine.
He plunged faster, holding my hips and fucking me harder. I clenched him inside me, feeling every ridge and vein of his velvet shaft as he moved in and out, and I knew he was holding back, waiting for me to fall into the precipice first, but this was uncharted territory for me. And then the quickening moved through me again, taking me by surprise, and I was climbing again.
“Come, baby,” he said breathlessly, and my body obeyed, disintegrating into color and light, sensation and white noise. My moans turned into cries of pleasure, and I spread my arms above my head in sheer abandon. I jerked and writhed against him, without thought or care for the possibility of tumbling off the couch. I was overcome by the clarity of pleasure, aware of nothing but my body and his. My orgasm went on and on as he continued to hammer into me, holding me steady by my hips. Just when I thought I could take no more, he thrust hard and deep a few more times, then ground into me on a shout. He pumped softly, easing us both down, then stilled.
I was boneless as I gazed at him. He relaxed his grip on my hips and smoothed his hands over my belly, his eyes contemplative. I didn’t think I could move even if Lucy burst into the room. The tension and anxiety of the past few days had been wrung from my body by this beautiful man. Three orgasms! I didn’t think that was possible, but he drew them from me almost effortlessly.
He withdrew slowly, leaving behind an emptiness. “Are you okay?”
I could only nod. Words were unattainable. I was in complete contradiction, my body relaxed and sated, while my head was abuzz with bliss and confusion, jubilation and turmoil. I was captivated, drunk on Damien Stone. I feared I would never be the same again.