Page 83 of Firethorne
I grabbed the rail with my other hand and bent a little more, then felt the pressure of his hand pushing down on my back, showing me exactly where he wanted me.
“Now this,” he said, reaching between my legs from behind. “Needs special attention. This pretty pussy is so swollen and full of cum, I need to make sure I clean you thoroughly down here.”
I let out a little moan as he rubbed his soapy hand between my legs, his fingers stroking and delving between my folds, more probing than cleaning, but I didn’t care. It felt so good, I pushed back against him, craving more.
“You like that, huh?” he asked, and I gave a breathy sigh in response. He pushed his fingers inside me, grunting as he said, “Fuck, Maya. Do you have any idea how good you feel? You’re so fucking tight.”
His fingers stroked my walls, stretching and rubbing, driving me insane. I hung my head as the water fell over us, and his fingers thrust slowly into me.
“Jesus, Maya,” he groaned. “I need to be inside you again. I fucking crave this pussy. It feels too fucking good.”
He pulled his fingers out, lined his cock up at my entrance and then thrust hard into me, grabbing hold of my hips tightly as I cried out.
I held the handrail as he set a punishing pace, rutting into me fast and hard. The water battered my back as he pounded my pussy, and I held onto the rail as best I could, almost letting goon each thrust with the power of his movements. Over and over, he thrust into me, his cock stretching me in the most sublime way. I wasn’t sure I could take anymore, and yet, I couldn’t get enough.
“You take my cock so fucking well,” he growled. “It’s the sexiest thing ever, watching my cock sink into your tight little pussy. My fucking pussy,” he stated, and slammed harder into me to prove his point.
His fingers dug into my hips, his cock filled me at a brutalising pace, and I cried out, “More,” as he slapped my ass hard and told me, “You’ll get everything, baby. Don’t you worry.”
I could barely breathe, and I panted as his thrusts became more frantic, more punishing. Then he moved so he could reach around and stroke my clit as he fucked me, his front lying over my back as he moaned, “I need you to come for me, Maya. I’m so fucking close.”
The touch of his hand on my clit set sparks flying, and my legs buckled as I started to come, gripping the handrail as my body began to spasm and my pussy contracted on his cock.
“That’s it. Fuck, that’s so good, Maya. You’re such a good fucking girl.” And he rested his head on my back as he hissed, “I’m coming. I’m fucking coming. You made me come, Maya.”
And his cock throbbed as he came, his hips slowing but still thrusting as he emptied himself inside me.
“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of you,” he sighed as he clung to me.
“I really fucking hope not,” I whispered back quietly.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Maya
Damien didn’t tell lies. I’d learned that from my time at Firethorne and since he’d moved me to this apartment. He certainly proved it last night, when he took me so many times, I’d lost count of all the orgasms I’d had—in the shower, after the shower. He’d claimed me in whatever way he could. In every way he could.
Eventually, we’d both fallen into an exhausted, sex-induced sleep in each other’s arms. And when I woke the next morning, I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds longer to savour the warmth of his body next to mine and the sound of his gentle breaths as he lay sleeping.
When I eventually opened my eyes and turned my head to watch him, I couldn’t believe how peaceful he looked as he slept. He breathed quietly with his mouth open slightly, and the lines he sometimes had on his brow were smoothed out now. He looked younger as he lay still. A man who, whilst dreaming, didn’t seem to have a care in the world, but I knew, the second he woke up, the weight of the world would be back on his shouldersagain, and evident on his beautiful face. The Firethorne guilt that dragged him down every day wasn’t evident now. He was just... Damien.
My Damien.
My saviour.
At some point during the night, we’d gone from lying in each other’s arms to lying beside one another, but I was still worried I might wake him when I moved. So, carefully, I lifted myself from the bed, swinging my legs onto the floor, and stood quietly. Luckily, he didn’t wake, so I silently congratulated myself on my success, put a T-shirt on so I wouldn’t get cold, and headed out the door.
Moments later, when I walked back in with a small tray, he was sitting up, yawning and watching the door, waiting for me.
“What’s this?” he asked, frowning as I placed the tray on the bedside table.
“Breakfast,” I replied.
“You made me breakfast? But that’s my job. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
I knew he’d say that.
Damien was the most thoughtful man I’d ever met. But at the same time, I wanted to do something for him. He’d done so much for me already.
