by Red Garnier
“Is this about that man? Or about sex?”
She scowled at the question, her body still hot, burning, and hot. How could it be about that man? She’d read the newspaper, saw that he was back, and when Regina squealed to tell her that he was going to be at the auction, Sydney had decided that she needed his help, and that nobody would buy him for the night as long as Sydney had her inheritance money. But it was not about Damien. She didn’t love him anymore—love had turned to hate for a decade. She tore everything she read or heard about him, it hurt so much to remember the way he’d rejected her.
No, it was not about Damien. She only felt lust for Damien, and that was all. This was about finding a way to find a good, real man in her life. Court.
He parked underground at one of her spaces, and walked her to the elevator, then to her door. She opened it and let him step inside. “Thank you, Court.”
She smiled at him, even though Damien’s angry face in the end haunted her, her body still restless and frustrated.
She glanced up into eyes that didn’t torment her, that didn’t make her feel inadequate, just happy and content. And she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him, wanting him, needing him, though it wasn’t him she was kissing in her mind. It wasn’t him she needed to touch, to ravish.
She plunged her hands into his hair, aware of him going stiff in shock, “Please kiss me,” she begged, “Please make love to me, please, let’s go there, we get along so well, you accept all of me,” his hands were coming to her shoulder. They weren’t large, tanned hands, they weren’t feeling her up in greedy delight, and they weren’t Damien’s hands. And they were pushing her away, rather than pulling her closer. Closer to his beating heart. His rapid breath.
“Sydney,” he said, alarmed. “What has he done to you?”
“Nothing. Don’t you feel something for me?” She met his stunned gaze. “I love you, Court.”
“I love you, too, Sydney, but we’ve never…do you love me like that? Do you?”
“I think I do. I just love you. Is there any other way?”
He cupped her cheeks. “Yes. There’s friendly love, and there’s…I don’t know, the other kind.”
“I just love you, Court.”
He embraced her, and his arms didn’t wrap hard enough, and it made her throat close.
“Sydney…I want to tell you…”
“Oh, my, I’m making a fool of myself, I know I am.”
“Sydney…” Court’s eyes looked troubled now, and she knew it was because of the way she’d jumped on him.
“Please. Don’t say anything. I’m acting stupid, I’m not myself, and I just…let me go to bed. I need to rest. I think I just need to rest. We can talk of this tomorrow. We can go to lunch. Will you take me out to lunch?”
“I’ll take you anywhere, Sydney. Anywhere you want. Just rest.”
She did not rest.
She was wide awake, miserable. Her actions with Court had stunned her. Their relationship had been about smiles and talk, not about sex and kissing. It would be awkward tomorrow. She’d have to explain Damien and how did one explain a natural disaster like that?
No, Damien wasn’t the natural disaster. The natural disaster had always been the way he made her feel.
And then she did something she knew that would top off all the catastrophes. Everything. She had done this before, and it had broken her heart. And now she was going to do it again, once and for all.
He could finish her off…
He could wreck her.
Destroy her.
Thirty minutes later, she knocked on Damien’s door. When he opened, his eyes were glazed. He stood shirtless, in black silk pajama buttons that looked crazy sexy combined with his tattoo, and he had a drink in his hand.
Her heart thundered as the coward inside her urged her to turn tail and run, but how could she? He trapped her in his gaze, his nostrils flaring angrily at the sight of her.
“Can…can I come in, Damien?”
His face cold and expressionless, he opened the door wider so she came in, muscles bulging in a way that made her midsection feel heavy. He said nothing as he slammed the door shut behind her.
The silence ate at her nerves as she glanced around. A manila lay open above a glass coffee table, and that’s when she saw the pictures of her—kissing Court on the steps of her apartment building. Her stomach sunk, and she felt crazily as though she’d been unfaithful to him. But she didn’t owe anything to Damien Knight. Nothing. He owed her a goddamned heart, and she didn’t owe him shit.
So she didn’t know why she was here.
Except that every kiss they’d shared had stolen a little bit of her oxygen, and now she couldn’t breathe.
“You had me followed?” she asked, confused as her eyes shot up to his.
He sneered, saying nothing, merely lifting his glass in a mock “cheers”.
“Why would you have me followed?” she asked.
He took a full swig, then went to pour some more. She stalked there, grabbed the glass from him, scowling. “Are you getting drunk?”
He took it back and drained it, then set it on the counter. “Am I not older than twenty one? Hell, am I not a decade older than you?”
She shook her face in disapproval, and Damien eyed her suggestively, his lips twitching as he signaled coldly at her. “Well? Aren’t you going to take your clothes off? Go ahead. Strip.”
“Pardon?”
“What do you want me to do to you today? Do you want me to swell you up, make you wet, so he can get to fuck you?”
She blinked at the jealousy in his words. She remembered the need inside him, the way he’d almost begged her to stay, and she knew she’d hurt him. Damien Knight begged nobody. He was a man who’d walked out on his family, friends, his city, everything he knew. He didn’t apologize, and he didn’t need anyone. But she’d felt like he’d needed her. Pulled by a magnetic force she hardly understood, she walked over to him and slipped her arms around his waist, and he stiffened. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her cheek to his back.
He stiffened. Then he took her hand and unwrapped it from him. “I’d like you…to leave…Sydney…” he said, with an effort.
She touched a finger to his chest, where his heart thundered—thundered—madly under her palm. “I’m very sorry things have gotten intense between us. And complicated. I want a truce. I want to be friends.”
His eyes looked tortured. He caught her jaw within his thumb and forefinger, the open curve of his hand cradling her chin as he gently squeezed. “I don’t want to be your friend,” he said gruffly.
She slipped her hand up his strong throat, her legs dissolving in need and desire. “Then make love to me,” she breathed. “Make love to me, Damien, you’ve made me wait ten years for you. Ten years. I should hate you. I should hate you for being with everyone who’s ever come to you except me.” Her voice broke, and her strength left her. She felt vulnerable and open. This was a man who’d taken every good-looking woman available. He’d told her time and again he didn’t like redheads, he didn’t like her, he liked women with boobs, with more meat.
She began to tremble and took a step back, her throat closing as she waited for the whiplash. His denial. His tormenting words. She had washed off the brown in her hair. And now she felt ready to be executed.
His eyes widened when he noticed the hair held back in a ponytail, and understanding took a bit of the glaze away. Then his eyes narrowed. Her heartbeat spiked as the look in them became feral. His jaw squared as he reached out, and his hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her forward. He crushed her lips to his with a groan of need.
Her body reacted instantly, and live, hot blood rushed through her with the force of a hurricane. She closed her eyes, grabbed his shoulders and went higher up on tiptoe, opening her mouth, pushing her tongue to his, every one of her actions begging, offering, wanting, needing.
His hands clenched around her waist, and before she knew it, he was lifting her, bringing her bre
asts to his face, nipping at one through the fabric, then the other. A shudder overtook her when she felt his teeth, tugging the beaded nipple through her blouse, then the other.
He let her slide down, his erection bulging a path up her sex, her pelvis, her abdomen. She pressed her lips hard to his again, stealing her hands up his chest, seeking his nipple rings. She caressed them with her fingertips, wild for them, wild for him.
He made an odd noise coming from his nostrils, like a harsh breath, and turned his head to her ear. “Do you want me inside you?”
There was only one answer, one truth, one thing on her mind. “Yes,” she said, almost a moan as she anxiously stroked her fingertips across the diamond stud piercings on his nipples.
He grasped her wrists and pinned her hands behind her back, pushing his hips against her hard, his voice rough and demanding. “Why did you kiss him? To hurt me? To torture me? To get back at me for doing the right thing?”
She dropped her gaze, but he held her arms in one hand, and brought the other to grab her chin and force her to look at him. “You were fifteen fucking years old. Fifteen.”
She pulled her arms free and tunneled them into his hair, kissing him, almost biting him, and he pulled free, once again grabbing her hands, this time forcing them down their bodies, between them, crossed. “Did you have to kiss him to realize he doesn’t rock your world like I do? That he doesn’t understand what you need, what you want?”
She opened her mouth, not even knowing what she was going to say, and his eyes bored into her and challenged her to reply, clawing at her heart. “I don’t know…I don’t know what I feel…what I want…”
“I know what you want.” He looked decisive, savage, slid his arms up to cup her face and kiss her nose, then brush his lips almost tenderly across hers. He set his lips over hers, and Sydney opened her mouth and started to kiss him, desperate for him, trembling when his decadent tongue began to twirl around hers.
He kissed her with determination and ill-concealed hunger as he backed her across the room and devoured her, backed her and devoured her, until she bumped on the bed and fell at the edge, sitting.
Her lungs were at capacity. Her heart was working overtime.
Damien stood before her, his cock inches away, thrusting out of the silk drawstring pants. He didn’t even bother to try to push it inside, it was huge, and how could it fit in there? How could it fit in her?
The sudden very real and painful need to feel it inside of her and this man inside of her set the blood in her veins on fire.
“Take down your hair and shake it out for me.”
Her hands trembled as she did as he asked, and he made a pained sound of torment when he noticed it was red. All red. All for him.
He touched his fingers through it, mesmerized. “Sydney,” he said, reverently.
Nobody had ever, ever, made her feel as pure and perfect as he did, with that single utterance.
She tremulously pulled off her dress, then her panties, aware that he watched her.
She cupped her breast, suddenly hating that they were so small.
He grunted, an animalistic sound, climbing over her, hands pushing hers away so that his palms could engulf and seductively torture the small mounds, tease the nipples into pained little rubies.
She swam in sensations as he scraped his teeth across the tip of her nipple. He kissed it. Sucked on it. The wickedly delicious suction of his mouth causing a fresh stream of honey to pool between her legs. Her bloodstream smoldered with sensations, pleasure, desire for him.
He inched back and removed the piercing on his penis.
“No,” she rasped.
“Yes.” He rolled on a condom. Instinctively she knew he didn’t want to hurt her, she could feel the caution in his hands as he gripped her hips when he came back to her, eyes fixated on her face.
“Tell me you want me inside you.”
“I want you inside me.”
He squeezed her in his grip and held her in place.
“Part your legs,” he said as he grabbed his member and guided the swollen head inside of her. “Wider,” he commanded, and Sydney did as he asked.
He guided eight more inches of hard shaft inside and her body contracted around him, her sex swallowing him entirely. “Damien,” she moaned.
He filled her so fully she almost experienced an orgasm simply from being penetrated.
“Am I too much for you, Sydney? Does it feel right for you?”
“Yes, more,” she begged, twirling her tongue up his throat, “Please, don’t pull out, more, more.”
Damien pulled out to her chagrin and she nearly wailed from the loss, but then she watched as he guided himself back in.
Ecstasy tore through her body and her veins sung with heat. Damien thrust deeply now and remained looking at her as their bodies melded and he expertly took her virginity.
“Joy or pain?” he asked, his big hands held her down by the hips as he drove in and out with slow deliberate motions. “Joy or pain?”
Both, for it was painful and beautiful and something she’d always wanted and she couldn’t speak and she’d die if he stopped, so she gripped his jaw and set her lips on his, kissing him as her salty tears somehow streamed into their mouths.
The pace of lovemaking that their bodies began to follow was intense. Sydney’s breasts wiggled and her pelvis lifted rhythmically to take in Damien.
Damien bit down on her neck and sucked her with unleashed desire. She had never experienced anything like this.
“Damien,” she cried as the orgasm approached.
Damien only increased the pace and took her even faster and harder to her delight. Teeth gritted, he was clearly lost to the pleasure as he rammed her and sucked and nibbled on her skin like a hungered animal. “Sydney!” he roared.
Stars burst behind her eyelids as she reached climax with a shuddering cry, her pussy’s contracting clenching rhythmically around Damien, milking his come.
He shot off a big load inside of her, groaning in passion and satisfaction after he was done. She smiled when he rested his forehead on hers and he lifted his head, looked at her smile, and then kissed it hungrily as if he were going to eat her whole.
Minutes later, she lay beneath him out of breath and heavy-lidded, her mouth damp, and so beautiful, he didn’t want to let her catch her breath, didn’t want her to stop talking shit to him about her best friend, he didn’t want to stop and think what they had done. What they were doing.
He wanted her. Needed her.
He’d never wanted anyone so much in his life.
No one had ever really wanted him back. For sex, yes. But the kind of women he tumbled with never asked to be made love to. They wanted a fuck, and that’s what Damien gave them. But Sydney was different. He wanted to protect her and cuddle her. He wanted to make her his.
He wasn’t fucking her. He was claiming her. He would bind her to him, until she was so wrapped up in him, she’d never think of looking at another man again.
“You okay?” he murmured, touching a hand along her stomach, between her heaving breasts, every inch of her skin sliding under his palm. “Are you sensitive?”
He pressed into her pussy with his finger, and she moaned again, still wet.
“Can you take me again?”
She nodded wildly, and he whipped out the bondage they’d used at her place. He tied her up and strapped it to the bed, this time, he also tied up her legs, keeping them splayed open.
Her breathing accelerated with arousal when he looked down at the wet folds of her pussy, exposed to him. He knew this was her fantasy. He wanted to exceed it. He wanted to own it. He wanted his face on there, so every time it haunted her, she would think of him.
“Damien…Damien…Damien…”
He reached to the bed stand and grabbed his metal piercing, inserting the metal ring on the tip of his cock.
Every breath caused her breasts to jiggle. He drooled for this girl, wanted her so much, he sucked each nipple into
his mouth, his saliva glands working overtime because she tasted so good.
“Please, Damien, take me like this…” she moved up against him.
“I will take you and make you cum so hard you’ll wet the bed.” He kissed her gently and proceeded to fuck himself back into her, both of them groaning when their bodies were joined again. Sydney keened out a cry of pleasure. Yeah, take me, Damien thought possessively as he buried his member inside of her and watched her strain in her binds beneath him.
After several thrusts, he withdrew and teased the bud of her clit with his cock ring, moving it up and down.
Sydney moaned. Mine…!!! he thought.
He dragged his cock all along her belly and introduced the tip of her pretty breasts to a few leaked drops of pre-cum. He caressed those nipples with his cock ring and watched them harden and press outward even more. He picked up the pre-cum from the tip of one with his thumb and pushed it into Sydney’s mouth. A moan left her lips as she gazed at him with desire and lust and swallowed the drop. You like that? Oh yes you do, Sydney, and I like it too….
He shifted to place his knees at each of her sides so that his balls nestled near her throat and the tip of his cock was close to her lips. An offering.
Eyes glazed with desire, her sweet pink tongue slid out to taste the pre-cum once again gathering at the slit of his cock.
Oh yeah that’s yours….
He pushed the first part of his cock into her mouth and she started working it so fast that his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. He began pumping as she claimed every inch of his cock with her tongue fluttering up and down like crazy.
The way she sucked him told him he was being claimed and he meant for her to know that he approved of that with every low groan that rumbled up his throat and every hungry swivel of his hips… Yeah take it baby, suck it.
He pumped with more swing, his toes curling when her tongue circled the head and lightly suckled on his piercing. Semen escaped him as he tried not to blow his load in her sweet mouth.
He pulled out, but when Sydney protested, he gave her one last taste.
Her mouth sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, sucked him so perfectly no woman had ever made him nearly lose control like this. His body tightened, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as a growl left his lips.