Page 46 of Watch Me Burn
“Oh.”
The sound catches in my throat as my fingers clench his hair. His palms cup my ass, holding me steady against the glass.
“I’ve got you, Luna. I won’t let you fall.” His tongue delves inside me. “I’ll never let you fall.”
Those words send tremors through my frame. My body quivers between cold glass and molten heat.
His finger traces my slick folds before sliding deep. A second joins the first, and I arch at the delicious pressure.
He gathers my wetness on the digits before pulling out and sliding lower. His finger circles the tight ring of muscle at the back, pushing inside. The new stretch makes me gasp.
“Oh, God.”
My wolf takes my ass with force and hunger, but never with this careful exploration.
I need to stop this. I’m betraying him. But Damien’s tongue against my clit and finger working deeper erases everything except raw feeling.
My thighs shake against his shoulders, yet he never wavers. Each deliberate flick of his tongue, each gentle thrust of his finger, winds the coil inside me tighter. He works a second finger inside, opening me further. The stretch burns, stoking the inferno in my core.
His tongue traces gentle circles around my clit, and it’s maddening because I crave speed, pressure, and force. But part of me never wants this soft worship to end. He finds every sensitive spot as if he’s mapped my body before, as if he knows exactly how to unravel me.
Pressure mounts like a gathering storm.
“Damien. I’m close. So close.”
My wolf’s brutality has trained my body to expect domination, and this tenderness leaves me hanging.
“Please.” My voice splinters. “I need more.”
His teeth capture my clit, and reality explodes. Heat and sensation consume everything as my orgasm tears through me in savage waves. My body convulses against his mouth while a scream rips from my throat, his name echoing off the walls of his penthouse. I sag against the window, breath coming in sharp bursts. He doesn’t relent until I push his head away, unable to take anymore.
“Beautiful.” He turns his face, murmuring against my still quivering thigh. “So fucking beautiful when you come.”
His fingers slide free, and he presses a soft kiss to my still-throbbing clit. The contact draws another whimper, another ripple of pleasure-pain. Then he helps me down, steadying me on trembling legs before rising to his feet.
When he’s at his full height again, I’m struck by the contrast between us. He stands in his tuxedo, composed, though his hair is sexily wild from where I’d tugged on it, his mouth and chin glistening with my arousal.
For a moment, I gape at him, at how together he still looks while I’m wrecked. He leans in and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his lips. His tongue traces mine, sharing the evidence of my pleasure, and I moan into his mouth.
When he breaks the kiss, his eyes have darkened to near black, pupils swallowing the blue-gray until only hunger remains. “Stay. Let me take you to bed. Let me spend the night showing you how good I can make you feel.”
My pulse jolts, and the temptation is overwhelming. My body hums with residual pleasure, aching for more. But guilt coils in my stomach like a serpent, joined by the familiar prickle of being watched.
My head snaps toward the glass windows, scanning the night sky for a masked figure that couldn’t possibly be there because we’re sixty stories up.
In the window’s reflection, I see myself. I’m a tangle of messy hair and a rumpled dress hiked up around my waist, knees still unsteady, my nakedness exposed to all of Denver spread below. I yank the fabric down, my hands trembling. If letting Damien bring me to climax with his mouth isn’t betrayal enough, displaying what belongs to my wolf for the world to see will earn me punishment I can’t imagine.
“Are you alright?” Confusion creases Damien’s brow.
I turn back to him, my throat tight. “I can’t stay, Damien. Not tonight.”
His expression flickers. Startled, hurt, then a flash of disappointment before he tucks it away. But not before I catch a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“I want to.” I reach up to touch his face, his cheek damp and slightly stubbled against my palm, a masculine contrast to his otherwise smooth appearance. “I do. But we should take this slow. This thing between us… It’s still so new.”
He catches my hand, turning it to press a kiss to my palm. The gesture is tender, at odds with the hunger still burning in his eyes.
“Is there someone else?” His voice is carefully neutral.
