Page 90 of Deliah
Aftershock
By the time we got back to the villa, we were both completely wrecked. Like we’d been chewed up by the night and spit back out into the morning. Still, even in his exhaustion, Damion tucked me into bed like I was something precious. He kissed my forehead, climbed in beside me, and pulled me close without a word. His arms curled around me like they were built to fit mine. Within minutes, we were both fast asleep.
When I finally opened my eyes, it was past midday. The sunlight bled through the curtains in soft golden stripes, and everything felt slow, warm, and still. I turned my head, and there he was. Damion. Sleeping beside me. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the muscles in his arms slack for once, his jaw relaxed. Peaceful. He looked younger like this. Softer.And somehow, even hotter. His hair was tousled, lips slightly parted, like he’d just stepped out of a dream. I didn’t move. I just watched him. Let myself take in every inch—every line of his collarbone, the freckles on his shoulders, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. The man who had wrecked me and rebuilt me. Who’d held me through the worst night of my life like I was his whole world. I curled in closer, pressed my body gently to his. That warmth… God, I could’ve stayed there forever.
Eventually, his eyes fluttered open. Still heavy with sleep, he blinked a few times, then smiled as soon as he saw me. “You okay, baby?” he mumbled, voice rough and deliciously hoarse.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Just taking a peek before the demon wakes up.”
He laughed, then pulled me tighter. I sank into him like I belonged there. And then I felt it. That slow, aching throb between my legs. My body craving him—not rough or wild like before, but something else. Something slow. Something real. I looked up at him, then kissed him. Soft, deliberate. He kissed me back just as slowly, lips pressing into mine like a promise. I rolled over him, straddling his waist. My hair fell around us like a curtain. His hands instinctively found my thighs, but I caught them and placed them on the bed beside him.
“Deliah,” he said carefully, searching my face. “Are you sure you’re ready? Your head—”
“I’m fine, Damion. I promise,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his jaw. “But today… we’re doing it my way.”
His brows lifted slightly. There was a flicker of something amused, maybe even uncertain, in his eyes. I could tell he wasn’t used to giving up control like this. But he trusted me. I felt it in the way his hands stayed exactly where I placed them.
“Just lie back,” I murmured. “Let me take care of you.”
“Deliah… your head.”
“Shhh,” I said, brushing my lips over his. “You owe me, remember?”
That made him smile. A crooked, adoring smile that melted me from the inside out. I leaned back and pulled my oversized t-shirt over my head, baring myself completely in the soft afternoon light. His eyes darkened instantly, tracing every inch of skin like it was sacred. He didn’t move, didn’t try to take control. He just looked. Like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“You’re unreal,” he whispered.
I kissed down his chest, then slid my thong to the side with one hand while the other pushed his boxers down just enough to free him. He was already hard. I reached down, guided him to my entrance, and slowly—achingly slowly—sank down onto him. We both gasped. His hands gripped the sheets. I stayed there, just for a moment, letting the stretch and the heat wash over me. Letting the fact that we were here—together, connected—anchor me. I began to move, rolling my hips in slow, fluid circles. Grinding down, then rising just enough to feel the friction, the fullness. My hands on his chest, his eyes locked on mine like I was rewriting every page of his story.
He groaned. “Fuck, Deliah…”
I leaned down and kissed his neck, letting my tongue drag across his skin.
“You feel so good,” I whispered. “So deep. So mine.”
His hands trembled at his sides.
“Can I—” he started.
“No,” I said with a grin. “You don’t get to touch. Not yet.”
He groaned again but obeyed. I rode him slowly, teasingly. My pace shifted—sometimes grinding hard and fast, then slowing back to a soft rhythm that made us both ache. Every time I clenched around him, he cursed under his breath. His hips twitched upwards, desperate for more.
“Deliah… baby, please…”
I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his. “Tell me what you want,” I murmured.
“You. Just you. However you want me.”
His words made my heart stutter. I kissed him deeply, hips picking up pace now, our bodies sliding against each other in a slow, slick rhythm.
“I love you,” I whispered into his mouth.
His eyes opened wide. And then it hit him. His grip snapped free from the sheets, and he clutched my hips as we moved faster, harder, deeper. We came together—loud, messy, overwhelming. I felt him shudder beneath me, his hands squeezing my thighs, his mouth buried against my collarbone as I moaned his name like it was the only word I remembered. When the tremors faded, I collapsed forward onto his chest, skin slick, heart racing. We lay there tangled in each other, panting, sweating, smiling like idiots.
He brushed a damp strand of hair off my face and looked at me with that soft, stupid look.
“I love you too,” he said, still breathless, eyes glassy. “Baby, you’re insane.”
