“I want everything.”
I hear the buzz of the vibrator, then feel the cool gel on his fingertips as he readies my ass. I bite my lower lip in anticipation, forcing myself to relax as he inserts the bullet. I sigh with pleasure from the sensation of being completely filled by both Damien and this toy, and also from the exquisite tingle of the vibrations dancing inside me, growing stronger with each of Damien’s thrusts inside me.
“Dear god,” he says, and the deep groan that lights his voice lets me know that he can feel it, too.
The sensation builds, growing so wild and burning so hot that I am not entirely sure if it is pleasure or pain. All I know is that it lifts me. That it takes me. And that it is not just this jet that is making me soar. It is the man inside me.
Harder and harder he thrusts, and I meet each motion, drawing him in, deeper and deeper. I want to get lost in him. Already I do not know where I end and he begins. All I know is pleasure. All I know is Damien.
Damien, who sets the world spinning wild around me.
Damien, who commands the earth, the stars, the universe, and me.
Damien, who has brought me to the brink.
“Damien,” I cry as everything that I am shifts and tilts and bursts in a wild cacophony of light and sensation that wash over me with such violence and joy it is a wonder that I can survive.
And yet I do, and it is Damien who pulls me back. Whose soft touch strokes me. Whose gentle kisses bring me down. Who holds me close and keeps me safe. “Damien,” I murmur, as the softness pulls me under and I succumb to the warm, languid pull of exhaustion. I am his, I think. I am loved.
Chapter 6
When I come back to myself, Damien cleans me up and frees my arms, and I stretch, reveling in the sensation of once again having the use of all my limbs. The bed is small, but I like it. I curl up behind him, my face snuggled up against his shoulder and my legs twined with his. I am floating somewhere in that state between waking and dreams, and idly wondering if it is really necessary to ever move again. At the moment, I think I could stay like this forever, drifting through the sky with the man I love.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what?” His voice is soft, too, and I think that if I close my eyes and let go, I will find him right next to me in that dream world.
“For loving me.”
He is silent for a moment, then rolls over so that we are facing each other. Gently, he brushes a stray lock of hair away from my eyes. “I’ve seen what’s in your heart,” he says. “How could I help but love you?”
I let his words glide over me, as warm and soothing as a blanket. “You’re very good at that, you know.”
“At what?”
“At making me feel as special with your words as you do with your body.”
“How many times have I told you, Nikki? I will always give you what you need.”
I ease forward and press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “Thank you for this honeymoon,” I say. I’m not sure what answer I expect. A smile, perhaps. Or a tease. Even some romantic words.
Instead, I see a shadow in his eyes.
“Damien?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about our hotel in Paris.”
“Problem?”
“I certainly hope not.”
I frown. I’m still confused, but tell myself that there must have been some sort of snafu that was troubling him. But even that seems odd, because Damien is the kind of guy who simply tells someone to fix something, then forgets about it, knowing damn well that his staff will make it happen. Then again, this is our honeymoon. So perhaps he’s taking more of an interest in the details. I snuggle closer, the thought pleasing me.
“Don’t go to sleep just yet,” he says, though his voice sounds as lazy as I feel.