Page 149 of The Contract

The pressure, the way his body meets mine in each slow, grinding thrust—it’s too much and not enough all at once.

A moan spills from my lips, unbidden, helpless against the way he’s unraveling me with something so simple.

His breath is ragged, his lips brushing against my jaw as he curses under his breath.

"Fuck, Elena."

His voice is breathy, raw, desperate.

"Put me out of my fucking misery."

His forehead drops against mine, his hands still locked on my hips, guiding, controlling, pulling me down against every rock of his hips.

His patience—his infamous control—is dissolving right before my eyes, unraveling thread by thread.

We’re so close.

So close that our breaths mingle, our lips barely a whisper apart.

I open my mouth, teasing him, hovering on the edge of that final barrier, daring him to take it.

He tilts his head, chases the space, his mouth a fraction away.

“Elena,” he rasps, thrusting up against me as I grind down, the sensation making both of us shudder. His voice is a plea, a promise, a demand all at once.

“Please, baby.”

He wants me to say it.

He needs me to say it.

And fuck, I need it too.

My lips brush his.

The smallest touch.

I exhale, my voice nothing more than a whisper.

"Kiss me."

And before I can finish the word, his mouth claims mine.

Damien breaks.

There is no hesitation, no restraint—just raw hunger.

His mouth crashes against mine, his tongue sweeping in, claiming, devouring. There’s nothing soft about the way he kisses me. No tentative exploration, no slow unraveling.

This is possession. This is obsession. This is Damien Wolfe finally taking what’s his.

A desperate sound rips from my throat, swallowed by the relentless press of his lips, the way his fingers tangle into my hair, tilting my head back so he can kiss me deeper, harder.

I moan into his mouth, rolling my hips against his already hard cock, feeling the rigid length pressing up against me through the thin barrier of my panties.

The sensation sends a pulse of heat straight between my thighs, and I do it again—harder, grinding against him, desperate for friction.

His growl vibrates against my lips, sharp and possessive, before he suddenly stands, gripping me tight against his chest. My arms wrap around his shoulders on instinct, my legs clenching at his waist as he carries me effortlessly toward the verandah.

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