Page 63 of Broken Pieces
As I fist his hair to bring us closer, he groans as our tongues clash once again, licking and exploring, and if I were standing up right now I’m sure that groan would have made my knees buckle. One of his hands roams my curves, arriving on my waist, and grips it softly, breaking us apart from the kiss.
“Darling,” he rasps through a ragged breath.
That damn nickname.
“Yes?” I breathe out.
“Can I confess something else?”
I nod as I bite my lip, trying to contain a smile.
“I’ve wanted nothing more than to kiss you again since last time,” he says through a sultry, promising whisper.
“Me too,” I confess.
His eyes lock with mine, a million questions clouding his gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”
And I know why he’s asking, because last time it didn’t end all too well for me. But this time it’s different, because I want nothing more than to get lost in him. In his touch. To beconsumedby him. Beburnedby him.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, and I mean it this time,” I reply breathlessly.
He lets out a throaty laugh that makes my insides melt and kisses me with such passion that envelops me, putting me in a haze. His hand travels underneath my shirt and starts moving upwards, cupping the bottom of my breast with his warm, exploratory touch, leaving a burning sensation throughout my whole body as his hands claim every inch, like he’s a starved man that has been wanting nothing but to worship my body.
He kisses my neck softly, nudging my shirt, silently seeking permission to take it off. I bring my hands up in an invitation, which he quickly accepts, grabbing the fabric and getting rid of it. His gaze travels slowly from my eyes; my lips; all the way down to my breasts. His eyes are filled with such admiration and lust that makes me feel nothing but worshiped; desired; and wanted.
No one has made me feel so much with one simple look.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he says through an appreciative groan.
I blush and look away, suddenly feeling ashamed.
He cups my cheek, gently forcing me to look at him. “Look at me,Tesoro.”
I look up, his green piercing eyes growing two shades darker as he takes an appreciative look at my body.
“Semplicemente bellissima.”
“What does that mean?”
He caresses my bottom lip with his thumb, and whispers, “Simply beautiful.”
My chest tightens at the compliment. His eyes are filled with a sincerity that makes me believe it.
I am beautiful. I am worthy. I am more.
This time, I close the distance and kiss him fervently. Our kiss becomes sloppier by the second as his hands keep roaming my body, worshiping every inch with his burning; electric touch.
His kisses travel down my neck; chest; abdomen until he arrives at my waist. He looks up, his eyes seeking permission. I nod quickly as I close my eyes, my chest heaving at the warm touch of his hands as he takes off my shorts.
An appreciative growl escapes his lips when he realizes I have no underwear on, revealing how wet and ready I am for him. The sensation is too much. I crave more of his touch—more ofhim—in every sense of the word. He kisses my inner thigh, his lips roaming close to my center; teasing; biting softly.
“Damian, please,” I beg.
I don’t even know what I’m begging for at this point. I’m so pent up with need that I can simply come by the way his hand caresses my legs and the way he’s kissing my inner thigh.
He licks my center in one fell swoop, and the sensation is so overwhelming all I can do is roll my eyes in pleasure as I gasp for air. The way his warm tongue devours me, the way his mouth kisses every inch like it was made for him. LikeIwas made for him, it’s all so good and too much at the same time.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You taste so fucking sweet.”
