Page 66 of Damon

“Because a small, concealed weapon can be the difference between life and death,” he replies bluntly. “If you’re feeling threatened or followed, you grip it in your fist with the sharp point exposed.” He removes his car keys from his pocket, takes my right hand and places them in the palm. He then uses long, strong fingers to wrap my hand around the metal to create a fist but leaves the point of a key exposed. He steps back. We stare at each other for a beat and my heart flips.

“To make the most impact with this, you need to attack from the front. As I approach you, you raise your hand and thrust downward. Aim for the face, the neck—anywhere to inflict pain and cause the person to backtrack. Let’s try, shall we.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper.

“I’m not asking you to stab me, Emma. Pretend.”

We run through the scenario a few times, him pouncing and me pretending to skewer him with his own car key. On our final run-through, I get overzealous and scrape the metal against his cheek. He all but yelps.

“Sorry,” I screech and drop the weapon onto the floor. He laughs.

“Okay, I think we can say you’ve nailed that.” I walk over to him, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him softly. His arms wrap around my middle, pulling me to him, and I feel his cock harden against my stomach. “No distractions,” he mutters.

“This is an apology.”

“Apology accepted,” he says, then removes my hands from his neck. “Next, the elbow strike.” I roll my eyes at him, and he nips my butt cheek with his fingers. “I’ll turn that ass pink for disobedience, Spitfire. Be a good girl for once and do as you’re told.”

“Okay, show me how to kick your ass.”

The next thirty minutes is filled with various elbow moves which let me hit the attacker in the face. Damon has me working on a nearby punching bag, again and again. It wobbles as I strike. I watch the red and black leather sway from side to side on a long chain. I don’t hear him approaching from behind; he stalks up silently. The first moment I’m aware of his presence is when he grabs my hair and is pulling me backward. He drags me a few meters; I twist as he taught me to and swing my elbow, and it connects beautifully with his chin. He lets go and staggers back onto the matted area again. His hand raises to his face.

“Fuck, that’s some swing Spitfire,” he says. I skip over to him and once again drape my arms around his neck.

“I had a good teacher,” I tell him. We kiss, and he cups my face in his hands. At first, it’s slow and sensual, everything a kiss should be. His tongue searches my mouth, dancing around mine. He holds me closer to him, then his hands move to my hair and pull the band from my ponytail. The blonde strands fall around my face. He wraps them around his fingers, pulling gently—not to the point of painful but enough to notice.

“On your knees,” he commands, and I drop without thinking. Now eye level with his crotch, I can see his dick straining against the material of his shorts. My hands move to his waistband. I slip my fingers inside, running them around the edge between the elastic and his skin. He groans above me, so I repeat the process, slower. “Cock tease.” I blink up at him and smile, then move my hands and pull the shorts down slightly. It exposes the V-shape at the bottom of his abs but doesn’t release his cock.

Leaning forward, I drop my lips to the bulge in his shorts. My lips touch the material, and he flexes his hips. Impatient hands hold my hair tighter. I run the tip of my nose down the length of his cock, then slide the shorts down over his ass and let them fall to the floor. His dick springs free, level with my mouth; I take him between my lips and look up at him.

“Take your time,” he says, still holding my head but not applying any pressure. I take him in my mouth a fraction more, moving my fingers behind his thighs to encourage him forward. I suck gently as he moves, then pull back slightly to run my tongue around the tip. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Fuck my mouth, then fuck me.” He holds my head firm and thrusts, slowly at first then his speed builds with both our confidence. When I glance up, his eyes are closed, and he’s lost in the moment. I let him slide deep until he can’t go any further. The exhilaration in his expression is delirium for me; I love making him feel this fucking good.

“Hell, I’m close already,” he mutters, pausing. I hold him to me, encouraging him to continue. His hips pick up speed again as I suck him for all I’m worth. Then I am aware of a salty taste of cum hitting my tastebuds—he jerks, and I drink, loving the fact I’ve given him this release at an unexpected moment. He groans again and it’s a primal sound, deep and pleasured.

He drops to his knees in front of me, his palms rest on either side of my head as he kisses my forehead. “Fuck, you are amazing,” he whispers. Without warning, he flips me onto my back on the mats, parts my legs, and kneels in between them. “We have a problem.”

“What?”

“I’m here with my cock out and you’re still dressed. Ass up.” He grabs my leggings and pulls them down my legs. I kick them off merrily. Dark, aroused eyes look down at my simple black thong; one strong finger slips into the crotch and pulls, and the material snaps like a rubber band.

“Better,” he says. His gaze roams the gym assessing the array of equipment. He stands and collects a triangular wedged training mat from the side before returning. He places it down next to me, then lifts my whole body and spins me around before lying me down on the wedge. It leaves me with my head lower than my ass, face up with my knees bent, my pussy wide open for him.

“First,” he says. “I’m going to get well acquainted with this delicious pussy of yours. Then I’ll turn you over and fuck you doggy style until you scream.” I gaze up at him and grin. “Are you happy with that training exercise?”

I nod enthusiastically, then lift my hips to draw his attention down my body where I want it to be. He kneels between my legs, his face lowering slowly toward my pussy. Warm lips caress my skin, and my arousal increases a notch. He blows gently on my clit; tingles shoot across my flesh, and I raise my hips once more. He blows again. One thick finger touches my entrance and pushes forward gently.

“Wet already,” he whispers, and his tongue connects with my clit. I stare at the ceiling while he gets to work licking and sucking, encouraging my body to prepare itself for his cock. Every so often his finger tests my entrance, pushing in deep then retracting. He plays my clit with his tongue, flicking the sensitive spot until my whole body buzzes with need.

“Damon,” I mumble, reaching for his hair. I tug on the short strands. He looks up from his task, my arousal glistening on his lips.

“You taste incredible.”

“I want you,” I whine, needy. “Now.”

“You want me inside you,” he asks with a dark smile. I nod. “Turn over.”

I do as he says, and he moves my body so I’m on my knees, legs wide, leaning down on my elbows. He grabs his shorts and pulls a condom from the pocket.

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