Page 27 of Christmas Mafia Prince
What does he mean? I have vague flashes of him removing my clothes and leaning over me, but if we did have sex, I’ve no memory of it. The thought of that happening makes me queasy, even though thanks to the rice porridge my stomach couldn’t be more settled.
Still, I lean into the kiss because yes, he is that handsome. Damen smells fresh, of cedarwood, grapefruit, and an earthy undertone that reminds me of gunpowder. Something about that scent pulls me in. I’ve never been with a man like him. Not just because he’s so rich I can’t comprehend it, but also because he’s so clean-cut, confident, clear about his intentions and wants. No games, unless he’s playing 4D chess with me as his king and I remain unaware of it. But if I’m a chess piece, at least I’m not the opponent.
“Are you saying that as your husband I get to be lazy?” I tease with my lips only half an inch away from his, even though I have to stand on my toes. Another turn on. I love that he’s so much taller than me.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, baby. I rather enjoyed seeing you in that big bed, spread out like the tastiest meal I could have,” he teases, flicking his finger against my chin.
“Did you…haveme as a nighttime treat?” I ask, watching his face carefully. I’m anxious about the answer I might get, but I need to know who I’m dealing with. I’m running at the red flags because they look like Christmas gift ribbons, but I’m trying my best, okay?
Damen cocks his head. “If we did, then it was only in your sex dreams, baby. I don’t fuck people who can’t speak without slurring.”
My chest tightens when he leans closer, looming over me like a giant capable of swallowing me whole. And yet I’m still here, melting into his arms.
“I want you to remember every single time,” Damen whispers, his voice pouring over me like liquid honey until I feel too weak to think. “On that note, you seem quite awake now,” he points out with a gentle tug on the sheet covering me up to the neck.
I'm about ready to spread my legs, because that's so hot. Even the memory of him snapping Happy's head somehow morphs into a vision of Damen as my white knight, swooping in when no one else would save me. Of course I want his dick in me.
I swallow and let go of the fabric. Damen lets it fall to the floor, and I’m naked as the day I was born, dressed only in ink and piercings. He saw all of me last night, but it still feels like the first time with the bright light flooding the room. Maybe it’s the sheer size of the space that makes me feel so small. Not that I’m particularly small where it counts!
“That’s what I want too,” I whisper and kiss him again. I shouldn’t feel so giddy about the bare minimum a guy should do, but I’ve been treated so poorly, so many times, that it’s a revelation.
His gaze burns in the best of ways, so I stay still while he takes his time admiring my body as if it wasn’t too thin and not all that impressive in comparison to his toned physique. Maybe I’m only a curiosity. A temporary plaything to make his sex life more interesting, but when he smiles and trails the back of his hand down my tattooed chest, his expression appears so genuine I might just be fooled.
“So handsome. Long and slender, like a fox,” he adds, writing something right below my navel with his finger. My excitement at his words is starting to show.
Is it a turn-on that I’m naked while he’s dressed? Yes. But do I want to see his body in all its glory? Also yes.
I slide my hands over the sweater that feels as soft as if angels made it out of kitten fur. “And we have time to ourselves now?” When I was still dozing in and out of sleep, several staff members had come in and out of the room. One to open the curtains, one to bring me a tray of snacks, later another to hang a second stocking over the fireplace (because yes, of course the room also has its own fireplace). I didn’t dare check what’s in it yet.
“As much as we want,” Damen tells me, his eyes dark when he pulls up my hand, then gently turns me, as if we were learning a dance move. I intend to continue the twirl when he lays his hands on my hips, and a flush rushes up my chest when I realize what he wants to see.
Air trembles in my throat when I hear him kneel behind me, because his breath is teasing my naked ass cheeks, which are covered with bruises from yesterday’s punishment.
The prolongedyeshe utters goes straight to my cock, making it harden and rise. It twitches by the time Damen’s tongue rolls over my buttock, tasting the tender skin.
“You’re a masterpiece. This ass is art,” he whispers, moving his hands to the sides of my buttocks and squeezing them together. “And you must know that when it comes to art, I am a connoisseur.”
I gasp at the tiniest spark of pain, but I don’t care if it hurts when I get to feel his hips slapping against my ass. I want it. I want him. Am I deluded? Probably, but I want to believe his promises. “It’s yours,” I say breathlessly.
“Really? How badly do you want to give it all to me? This ass,” he whispers, pressing several more kisses to my bruised cheeks, then continues moving his hands over the body parts he’s naming. “Those hips, those legs, and this back too. I want them all, and that’s not even everything I need from you.”
Even my fingers tremble when he rises, licking his way up my spine until his face is buried in the crook of my neck, hands placed on my stomach and chest.
“Consider it a Christmas gift you get to unwrap early.” I’ve never been admired this way. Sure, lots of guys wanted to fuck me, or said I have a nice ass, but Damen takes in all of me is as if he sees me as a whole person, not just as a means to get off. Maybe I’m just lying to myself because I want that so much. For him to consume me whole.
He exhales and laps at my cheekbone. His tongue is soft, and warm, and its touch makes me shiver in his arms, ass to his fabric-covered dick, which is most definitely hard for me too. “In that case, you should get yours early too.”
Does this mean I get to suck him off now?
My mouth floods with saliva when I remember the weight of him on my tongue, but my head glitches when a chain of chunky golden links passes in front of my face. It’s heavy and coolagainst my collarbones, and I still when something clicks at my nape.
Damen guides me toward the huge wooden wardrobe with an oval mirror embedded in one of its doors.
I take in the picture we make. Obscene. Me naked, him standing behind me, one hand over my navel as he kisses my ear. I’m hard and crave for his hand to go lower, but my gaze settles on the gift around my neck, more of a choker than a necklace. He’s already showered me with gifts, but I love this addition. Like I’m his prized pet.
He turns it around my neck until the tiny padlock is at the front, right under my throat, where I want his hand. It’s the color of honey, its size so bold, and I just know it’s real gold, because this man would never settle for anything less.
“I’m never taking it off. I’m gonna fucking die in this thing,” I say with a grin as I look into his eyes in the mirror. So maybe I’m a little unhinged, but I want to fall into this fever dream.
