Page 16 of Curvy Cabin Fever
He tilts my chin higher.
“I want to feel you break beneath me, Aria. I want you breathless, begging, shaking apart in my arms.”
My heart skids to a stop, and I can’t help but suck in the air he releases, his lips inches from mine. “Damien…”
He leans in, and I realize he’s about to kiss me. His lips hover just above mine before he claims me.
My fingers reach up, losing themselves in his hair as his lips slam onto mine possessively, his tongue seeking entrance as I gasp. He moves me so I’m beneath him, his arms caging me in as he devours me. His hips thrust against my core, and my legs move to accommodate him. His growls swallow my whimpers, and I swear to god, I’ve never felt so desired in my life.
He tastes better than he looks. I panic about the white wine residue in my mouth, but to be honest, I don’t think he cares. His hands—god, his hands—are roaming over my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. He breaks our kiss like a man possessed, his mouth moving to the soft skin of my neck as he sucks and bites ever so gently.
Holy shit!
“Damien,” I moan with a heavy exhale, my legs wrapping around him as his tongue sweeps over my collarbone. “This is crazy.”
“What’s crazy,” Damien murmurs, his fingers loosening the buttons on my shirt, “is that you are wearing anything at all in my fucking bed.” He pulls away, and I reach for him instinctively, but he tugs the shirt over my head in one fluid motion, forcing me to lift my arms and half sit up as he does.
“Damien!” I squeal, my hands moving to cover my breasts before I can stop myself.
Oh my god, I hope he doesn’t touch me there.
Not where he’ll feel the soft parts of me, where he’ll compare me to the perfect women he must have been with before.
My stomach clenches, my heart hammering against my ribs. But Damien doesn’t hesitate.
He moves over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his breath hot against my lips.
“Yes, Aria?” Damien is over me again, forcing me back onto the bed, my chest heaving with each ragged breath I take. His eyes burn into mine before he stares down, removing my hands from my chest. “Don’t ever cover yourself from me.”
Oh, my god.
“This body,” he says, gritting his teeth and ducking his head so he’s close to my breasts, “is fucking perfect. I want to see every inch.”
“Wait,” I respond breathlessly as he stops, his eyes locking onto mine. “I can’t do this. I barely know you.”
I know, what a fucking cockblocker I am, but I haven’t even showered since I left Denver this morning.
I can’t have sex!
Especially not with this…finespecimen!
“You’re made for me,” Damien insists, sweeping his tongue around my areola, forcing my legs to straighten as a zing ricochets through my body.
“Fuck!” I hiss, but he sucks harder, his hand cupping my breast so he can fit more of it in his mouth.
“We don’t have to fuck yet,” Damien mumbles against me, his hips thrusting against my soaked panties. “We can…” Another thrust. “Get to know each other.”
I can’t move as my core pulses, throbbing around his giant fucking dick.
There’s no way that would fit inside of me, anyway!
“What’s your surname?” Damien rasps, his teeth grazing my nipple.
Jesus!
“Whitmore…” I gasp, breaths arresting my throat.
“Cute. Mine is Cross.”
