Page 102 of Client Privilege

“There?” he murmured, returning to it with more focused attention.

“Yes,” I breathed, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he alternated between gentle suction and the barest scrape of teeth.

His hands drifted lower, settling at the small of my back just above my jeans. “May I?” he asked again, fingers toying with my belt loops.

I nodded, my throat too tight for words. He unbuckled my belt with deliberate slowness, the clink of metal loud in the quiet room. The button of my jeans followed, then the zipper, each movement careful and measured as if giving me time to object.

When I hesitated at his belt, he covered my hands with his own, not pushing but encouraging. Together, we undid the fine leather belt, the expensive trousers falling open to reveal black boxer briefs that did little to conceal his arousal.

He eased my jeans down my hips, kneeling as he guided them to the floor. The sight of Damian Richards—brilliant lawyer, composed professional—on his knees before me was almost too much to process. He looked up at me, waiting for permission before helping me step free of the denim pooled at my feet.

His hands slid up my calves, over my knees, along my thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. When his fingers reached the edge of my boxers, he paused again.

“Still okay?” he asked, his voice rough with desire but his eyes clear with concern.

“More than okay,” I assured him, running my fingers through his hair, marvelling at its softness.

He hooked his fingers in the waistband and slowly, reverently, drew the fabric down. Cool air hit my heated skin, making me shiver as my cock sprang free, already hard and leaking. I fought the instinct to cover myself, to hide from his gaze.

“Alex,” he breathed, looking up at me with something like awe. “You’re exquisite.”

Before I could respond, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my hip bone, then the other, then the sensitive skin below my navel. Each touch of his lips was like a brand, marking me as something precious.

“Damian,” I gasped when his breath ghosted over my cock. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, looking up at me with darkened eyes. “If you’ll let me.”

I nodded, unable to form words as he wrapped one hand around the base of my cock. The first touch of his tongue against the sensitive head sent a jolt of pleasure through me so intense my knees nearly buckled.

“Oh god,” I moaned as he took me into the wet heat of his mouth.

His other hand steadied me, splayed across my hip as he worked me with exquisite precision. He took his time, exploring what made me gasp, what made me moan, what made my fingers tighten in his hair. When he hollowed his cheeks and took me deeper, I had to close my eyes against the overwhelming sensation.

Just as I felt myself approaching the edge too quickly, he pulled back, pressing a final kiss to the tip before rising to his feet. His lips were reddened, his hair dishevelled where my fingers had clutched it, and he had never looked more beautiful.

“I don’t want this to end too soon,” he explained, his voice deliciously rough.

I reached for the waistband of his boxers, suddenly desperate to see all of him. “My turn,” I said, surprised by my own boldness.

He helped me push the fabric down his legs, and when he straightened, I couldn’t help but stare. Damian naked was a revelation—all lean muscle and elegant lines, his cock thick and heavy between his legs. I reached out, wrapping my fingers around his length, marvelling at the velvet-soft skin over rigid hardness.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his composure slipping for the first time as his hips jerked involuntarily into my touch.

The raw need in his voice sent a thrill through me. I stroked him slowly, watching his face as pleasure transformed his features. His breathing grew ragged, and he reached down to still my hand.

“If you keep that up, this will be over embarrassingly quickly,” he admitted with a strained laugh.

He guided me onto the bed, his weight settling beside rather than over me. His hands explored my body with careful attention, as if memorizing every curve and plane. When his fingers brushed over my nipples, I gasped at the sharp spike of pleasure.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against my skin before lowering his mouth to replace his fingers.

The wet heat of his tongue made me arch off the bed, a moan escaping my lips. He circled one nipple slowly, deliberately, before drawing it between his teeth with the gentlest pressure. My hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as I held him closer.

“Damian,” I breathed, my voice hardly recognizable to my own ears.

He looked up, his eyes dark with desire but still attentive. “Too much?”

I shook my head quickly. “Not enough.”

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