It is entirely possible that I will die from frustration. I suck in a breath and find my words. “Mr. Stark,” I say sternly, “if you can’t tell how ready I am, then I’m afraid you’re not as skilled a lover as I had thought.”
“On the contrary,” he whispers. “I’m an exceptional lover. You just need to be more patient and let me prove it to you, slowly, methodically, and very, very thoroughly.”
I say nothing. Every sensation in my body, every ounce of feeling and desire has rushed between my legs. I feel heavy and swollen and desperate.
I need him inside me. If he doesn’t fuck me soon, I’m one-hundred-percent certain that I will implode. “Damien, please.”
“This?” He slides two fingers inside my vagina, and I gasp as my body tightens hungrily around him. My hips gyrate without me even thinking about it, and it’s an odd, amazing sensation with my legs bound open like that, because he is right. Not even the slightest shimmer of my desire can be hidden.
“Yes,” I manage, forcing the word to my lips. “But more. You.”
He adds another finger and begins a slow, sensual in-and-out. I tilt my head back, letting the pleasure build. I’m close, so very close, my muscles constricting to pull him in, harder and deeper. And then, finally, he gives me what I really want. He shifts his body over mine and holds himself up with one hand near my waist. The other he slides under my ass, lifting me just slightly. It feels strange because I cannot help. My knees and feet are not my own, but it’s not something I’m particularly worried about—for that matter, I’m no longer worried about anything, because Damien penetrates me now, his hips thrusting forward, his cock hard inside me as he holds my hips with his hands and pulls me toward him to meet his thrusts.
His movements are steady, even, and the tingling sensation in my body is like electricity building to a thrumming, steady power. But that’s the thing about electricity—it can surprise you, and when Damien changes the rhythm, I cry out, my body shuddering as a powerful, unexpected orgasm bursts through me, sending vibrant sensations throughout me like ripples from a rock in a pond.
Damien doesn’t stop. He thrusts again, harder and faster, again and again, until he, too, explodes. And, more than that, I explode again with him.
“Oh, baby,” he says, as his body melts against mine.
“That was spectacular,” I say, surprised that I can actually manage to form words.
He leans up on his elbow and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm.” I moan in satisfaction. “More than okay. But just a little stiff,” I add.
He chuckles, then kisses me softly and tells me to wait. A moment later he is carefully cleaning me, then slowly unbinding me, massaging each place where the rope cut into me, and gently stretching out my limbs.
He picks me up and carries me to bed, then eases up to spoon behind me, his arms around my waist. I sigh, lost in the pleasure of being so well attended to. I feel spoiled and cherished. More than that, I feel safe.
For a moment, we are silent, but as my mind drifts back over the evening, I cannot keep my question in any longer.
“Damien?”
“Yes?” His voice is tired. Sleep will soon be upon both of us.
“What was your father talking about? Why do you need to be squeaky clean?”
He is quiet for so long that I hold my breath.
“He’s yanking my chain,” Damien finally says. But that is not the truth, and I’m certain that Damien realizes I know it.
“Damien—”
He rolls me over, and something about his eyes tells me that this is it. If I press, he will tell me.
I swallow. Because this isn’t about learning the truth, it’s about Damien willingly sharing the truth with me.
I begin again. “How did you know where to find me tonight?”
For a moment his expression reveals nothing. Then I see the smile light his eyes, though it does not reach his lips. He cups my head with his hand and looks at me with an expression of such adoration it takes my breath away.
“Don’t you know, Nikki? No matter where you go, I will always find you.”
12