Page 9 of New Year in Kentbury
A slow, predatory smirk curves my lips as I release his chin, letting my fingers trail lazily down his heaving chest, savoring every shiver and gasp that follows my touch. “See?” I murmur, my tone rich with indulgent approval. “That wasn’t so hard. You can be a good boy when you try.” My hand stills just above the waistband of his pants, my eyes burning into his. “And now, I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve been begging for.”
I settle back on my heels, the slick sound of lube filling the room as I stroke myself, slow and deliberate, never taking my eyes off him. Damian’s gaze drops, his lips parting with a soft exhale, his cheeks flushed as he watches me prepare to take him. The air around us is thick, heavy with anticipation, every second a coiled promise of what’s about to unfold.
“I’m going to take you the way you need it,” I murmur, my voice low and unsteady with restraint as I move between his legs. “Face to face. Slow. Deep. Until you don’t remember where you end and I begin.”
His throat works as he swallows, his breath hitching audibly when I press the head of my cock to his entrance. The resistance is there, tight and trembling, and his hands twist into the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
I lower over him, catching his lips in a soft, teasing kiss, barely a brush of my mouth against his. “Breathe for me,” I whisper, and as I press forward, just the first inch, his gasp is swallowed by my kiss.
Damian moans, his body taut beneath me, trembling as he adjusts. I pause, letting my hand smooth over his hip, grounding him in the moment. When his legs relax, just slightly, I move again, pushing in deeper, inch by torturous inch. His breath hitches with every stretch, every slide, until I’m fully seated inside him, our bodies pressed together like they were always meant to be.
I don’t move right away. I can’t. The feeling of him wrapped around me, clinging to me in every way, has my own body trembling, my control fraying at the edges. He looks up at me, his eyes wide and glassy, and whispers, “Paul, please. I need more.”
I lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, his neck, as I finally, slowly, begin to move, each thrust deliberate, each motion a claim.
“You feel so good,” I murmur against his lips. “So fucking perfect for me.”
His fingers find my arms, clutching at me as I continue, each slow thrust pushing me further inside him. His body opens for me, taking me deeper, his breath coming in shallow gasps as I fill him completely.
“Paul,” he breathes, my name a plea on his lips as his nails dig into my skin. “You’re—oh, fuck—you’re so deep.”
“That’s where I’m meant to be,” I reply, my voice low and rough as I bottom out, my hips flush against his. “Right here, inside you. Taking you. Owning you.”
He lets out a broken moan, his head falling back against the pillows as I begin to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in, the drag of my cock against his tight heat making us both shudder.
“You take me so well,” I say, my tone soft but firm, my pace steady as I claim him. “Every inch of me, like you were made for this.”
His responses come in gasps and groans, his body writhing beneath me as I pick up the pace, each thrust measured and deliberate, designed to drive him wild. His legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper, and I oblige, grinding into him in a way that makes him cry out.
“You’re mine, Damian,” I growl, my hands sliding down to grip his hips, holding him steady as I thrust harder. “And I’m going to remind you of that every time I’m inside you.”
His eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a look so raw, so full of need, that it nearly undoes me. “Yes,” he gasps, his voice cracking with desperation. “Yours. Always yours.”
And I wish this were true, that he was mine, but come tomorrow morning this will stay here. Us . . . us will be nothing but a partnership and a strained friendship. I thrust deeper, my rhythm steady but unrelenting, driving into him with a precision that has Damian clawing at the sheets, his body trembling beneath me. His moans fill the room, each sound fueling the fire coursing through me. His head tilts back, exposing the curve of his throat, and I lean down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss there, savoring the way he arches into me. I bite him, claiming him in a way that feels primal.
“Touch yourself,” I growl, my voice a raw command that scrapes against the air between us. My lips hover near his ear,brushing against his flushed skin as I pull back just enough to capture the dazed look in his eyes. His cheeks are a deep crimson, the blush spreading down his neck, disappearing into the line of his collarbone. He looks wrecked—beautifully undone—and it only makes me want him more. “I want to see you stroke that gorgeous cock of yours,” I say, my tone dark, possessive. “Make yourself come while I’m buried inside you.”
For a moment, Damian hesitates. His gaze locks on mine, and I see it—the flicker of vulnerability, the way his pride wars with the utter surrender I’m asking for. But when I shift my hips, driving into him with deliberate precision, his breath catches, and I watch his resolve crumble. “Do it,” I urge, softening my tone just enough to coax him while keeping it firm. My fingers trail down his chest, teasing the sensitive skin there as my hips roll against him again, slow, and relentless. “Show me how much you want this. How much you need me.”
With a shaky exhale, Damian’s hand moves, trembling as he reaches down. His fingers wrap around his cock, and the sight of him—so obedient, so vulnerable—sends a molten wave of heat through me. He begins to stroke himself, tentative at first, his movements syncing with the rhythm of my thrusts.
“Good boy,” I murmur, my voice thick with praise and barely restrained desire. “That’s it. Just like that. Let me see how fucking beautiful you are when you lose yourself.”
His moans grow louder, sharper, each one spilling from his lips like music meant only for me. His hand moves faster, his strokes growing desperate as his body chases the pleasure I’m giving him. The way he looks at me—his eyes hazy with need, his lips swollen and parted from my kisses—it’s a vision I’ll never forget.
“Come for me,” I demand, my voice low and edged with power. His response is immediate, a broken cry tearing from his throat as his back bows off the bed, his hand jerking erraticallyover his cock. I reach down, covering his hand with mine, guiding him through the chaos of his release, controlling every shuddering stroke.
“That’s it,” I whisper, my voice rough and filled with reverence. “I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you. Show me how good I make you feel.”
His body stills for a heartbeat, then tenses completely as his orgasm crashes over him, leaving him shaking and gasping. Hot streaks of his release paint his stomach and my hand, and the sight of him unraveling beneath me—his vulnerability, his surrender—is enough to push me over the edge.
I thrust deep one last time, a guttural groan ripping from my throat as my own climax hits, pleasure detonating through every nerve. Damian moans softly beneath me, his legs tightening around my hips as I spill into him, claiming him in the most intimate, undeniable way.
“You’re mine,” I growl, the words harsh and breathless, carried on the remnants of my release. “Every part of you. I’m claiming you, Damian.”
His body trembles, his chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath. I press my forehead against his, our sweat-slicked skin sticking together, the world around us fading into nothing but this—us. And as I stare into his eyes, the truth I’ve been holding back, the words I’ve buried for so long, tumble out in a whispered confession.
“I love you,” I say, my voice low but unshaking, each word peeling away the last layer of armor I’ve kept around my heart. It feels raw, dangerous, like tearing open an old wound, but I let it bleed. “I fucking love you, Damian Harris.”
