Page 16 of Deadly Night
Damon’s kiss is intoxicating and fifty shades of fucked up.
And I want more.
I want him to do anything he wants. I’m equal parts terrified and horny, but I do have some self-preservation left. I moanagainst his rough and demanding lips, guiding the axe away from me, hoping he’ll drop it.
“You scared of me, baby?”
I open my eyes and find him staring at me, his face still partially covered as flakes of snow land and stick to the top.
“Take off your mask. Let me see you.”
“Wouldn’t that ruin your fantasy?” he confirms that every dark secret I’ve shared over text was with him.
I shake my head, and he lets go of the axe. It falls to the ground, and he removes his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket.
Impatient, I go up on my tiptoes to snatch his mask. Damon grabs my wrist and takes possession of the knitted material.
“Is this everything you hoped it’d be?”
“It’s getting there.” I lick my lips in anticipation of what he’ll do next.
My dream man doesn’t keep me waiting long. His mouth finds mine again in an all-consuming kiss. His tongue is hot and greedy. He paws at the skirt of my dress, squeezing my backside with a savage ownership that can only be called primal.
“I should spank your ass for wearing this tonight. For flirting with Nick.”
His teeth skim across my bottom lip before biting into the plump flesh hard enough to draw blood. He knows how to push my buttons. What to do to light my fire.
Damon knows I want him to take me roughly. Hard. Without mercy.
I’ve dreamed of this so many times.
How could I have ever thought anyone else could be capable of delivering but him?
Shoving a hand inside my leggings, he jerks my panties to the side. His fingertips are rough, cold, and sticky with tree sap.
His digits enter me. The cold of his skin meets the heat of my inner walls. Like fire and ice coming together and melting when they touch. I gasp at the welcome intrusion, loving the way the rough pad of his finger hooks in a come-hither motion, hitting me in all the right places.
“Fuck, you’re so wet and tight, baby. You feel so good. Perfect. Like mine.”
“I’m yours,” I tell him, earning me his wicked smile.
I lose his touch far too soon, but he yanks my tights and undies down to my ankles and shoves me down onto Santa’s throne. Down on his knees, Damon looks as though he’s praying at an altar that happens to be my pussy. He shoves my thighs apart and comes in hot and fast. His mouth is on me, eager and greedy. He thrust his tongue inside me, French kissing and fucking my pussy with his tongue.
My fantasy is coming to life.
I stare between my thighs as Damon goes down on me. I grab his dark, snow-flecked hair, giving him a playful tug. He glances up at me through hooded eyes, his mouth glistening with my juices as he licks his lips.
He comes up to give me a kiss, and I taste myself on his tongue.
“Taste good, don’t you, but I bet you’ll feel even better.” He undoes his belt and the button of his jeans. I wait eagerly for him to fuck me.
Anyone could walk up on us at any moment.
The idea of it has me getting wetter and hotter.
Damon hooks an arm under my knee, maneuvering my body at just the right angle. He lines his weeping cock up with my sweet hole and slides in delicious inch by delicious inch. I’ve never felt fuller. More whole.
I dig my nails into the shoulder of his leather jacket.
