Page 45 of Watch Me Burn
“Step out.”
My feet obey before my brain processes the command. I lift one foot, then the other, careful not to let my heels slip off. He pockets the lace with a grin that burns heat into my cheeks.
Arousal gathers between my thighs, impossible to hide. The exact moment he catches the scent, his eyes go black as they track the flush spreading across my skin.
“Beautiful.”
His palm climbs my calf, leaving fire in its wake. My mouth opens, but his breath against my center steals every word.
“Let me make you feel good, Luna.” Dark eyes hold mine from below. “I want you to come apart for me. Will you let me?”
His request, this seeking of permission I’m not used to, even after I stand here bare before him, proves more intoxicating than his touch.
“Yes.” My fingers dive into his hair again. “Please.”
He parts me with gentle fingers, opening me to his gaze. A whimper tears from my lips as his tongue tastes me for the first time. My head meets the glass behind me with a soft thud.
Damien’s touch carries tenderness wrapped in demand, nothing like my wolf’s devouring need. Even in gentler moments, he’s never this careful. He’s always hungry.
No! Stop thinking about him here.
My fingers clutch Damien’s hair, anchoring me, as heat gathers low in my belly. The dark and silver strands tangle around my knuckles, and my knees shake with the effort to hold me upright.
He lifts my right leg over his shoulder, my thigh pressing against his cheek. He stills, his nose grazing the most sensitive part of me, then he teases with a soft flick of his tongue against it before moving lower.
“So sweet.” The words vibrate against my flesh. “Always so fucking sweet.”
Familiarity echoes in those words, but then his tongue finds my clit, and all thought dissolves. My hips surge forward, seeking more pressure, more friction.
“Patience.” One hand traces my calf, and the other caresses the thigh beside his face. “We’re going to take this slow, remember?”
A moan tears free, pleasure and torment battling in my chest.
“Damien. Please…”
“Please, what? Tell me what you need.”
All thought scatters as his breath warms my center.
“More. I need more.”
“Like this?” His tongue traces one slow path from my entrance to my clit. A cry rips from my chest, fingers clawing at his hair.
“Yes! Like that, please don’t stop.”
But he maintains that maddening pace, gentle strokes that wind tension tighter at the base of my spine.
Just as release hovers within reach, when I balance on the knife’s edge, he withdraws. His nose nudges my clit, his breath a whisper against my wet flesh, pulling me back from the brink.
“Damien.” Desperation bleeds through my voice. “Why are you teasing me?”
“Because I want to savor this.” His lips ghost over my thigh. “I want to remember every sound you make, every tremble of your thighs, every tug of your fingers in my hair. And my name on your lips when you come for me.”
The raw intimacy of his words brings tears to my eyes. “Please. I need to—”
“Not yet.” His voice is firm but gentle. “Not until you’re so desperate that you’ll scream my name when you fall apart.”
He dives back in with renewed purpose, his tongue setting a lazy rhythm that steals my breath. A strong hand lifts my remaining leg, spreading me wide across his shoulders.
