I would have laughed, but he slid his body on top of mine and I was lost. Limbs measured up against limbs, palm against palm, familiar yet so different. My t-shirt and panties came off, his sweatpants kicked to the foot of the bed. I lay on my side, shuddering when his finger dipped down my back, tracing the indentation of my spine. Hooking my ankle around his, I rubbed my toes against the sole of his foot.
It was discovery and wonder, a stirring of the senses, a medley of sighs. We were skin-to-skin, and then apart, touching and exploring until the distance became too much to bear. He was on his stomach and my lips were skimming across the broad expanse of his shoulders and back. I had barely tasted his skin when he growled and turned over. Damian was a take-charge lover. He knew when he wanted it, where he wanted it, and how to make it happen. I was spooned into him, enraptured with the feel of his rough thumb on my nipple.
“Still crooked,” I said, taking his thumb into my mouth.
The reaction was instantaneous, a rush of throbbing, inflamed blood to that very male, insistent part of him.
“Skye . . .” He moved away from me.
“What?” I wasn’t done sucking his thumb.
He forgot what he was saying, and just lay back, watching me. “That is not helping,” he groaned.
“How about this?” I moved on to the other thumb.
“Fuck you.”
I giggled.
“Skye . . .” He tried again.
I moved on to the tip of his cock, teasing it with my tongue. His hips shot off the bed.
“Skye!” He yanked me away by my hair. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“I think I saw a mini sombrero in the living room.” I went back to what I was doing. His head flopped back on the pillow and his fingers threaded through my hair.
“What do you mean mini?” he growled.
“I take that back,” I mumbled, relishing the feel of him expanding in my mouth. He started thrusting his cock through my lips, retreating, advancing, an inch at a time, until I couldn’t contain him, all of him. The sounds coming from him were making my thighs clench as my need started overtaking me.
“My turn,” he said, flipping me over.
It was oddly tentative, his lips on that most private part of me. And I realized that this was where it was different for Damian. He might have fucked a lot of women, but he’d never made love before, never thought about giving the same pleasure he received. And his baby steps—his hot breath, his tongue, his mouth—nudged me towards the sweetest release. When he slipped his fingers inside, first one, then another, I thought I was going to lose it.
“Damian.” I grasped his shoulders. I wanted him inside. “Stop.”
He paused, taking in my flushed face, the rise and fall of my chest, my taut nipples, begging for his touch.
“If you can’t take, don’t give,” he said, sucking on my hot little button like I’d sucked on his thumb.
The fucking tease. His fingers continued their maddening dance, and just when I thought I was about to explode, his cock slid into me, full and hard. It was pure possession, unbridled and complete. The pleasure came, swift and explosive. I clung to him, unable to suppress the cry of delight as wave after wave of electric fire scorched through me. He held still, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other on the curve of my hip as I came in tight spasms around him.
“Again,” he said, when I lay replete and breathless under him. “With me this time.”
He started a relentless, masterful rhythm that carried me to new crests of passion. As he fueled my desire, his own grew stronger, his body moving with mine in exquisite harmony. I rose to meet him, stroke for stroke, feeling a sense of completeness that I had never known.
Ban
Eban.
Esteban.
Damian.
I knew all of him now.
I opened my eyes at the peak and the intensity of the moment shot through both of us. I abandoned myself to the whirl of sensation, my heart bursting with all the raw, tender, fierce things exchanged in that one look.
“Güerita.” He surrendered with a long, shuddering moan.
I wrapped my arms around him. He kissed the top of my head and pulled me closer. He wasn’t done touching me. His fingers moved up and down my back in long, languid strokes.
“You grew boobs,” he said. “Really, really nice boobs.”