How thoughtful.
Me, on the other hand, I probably taste like stale blueberry vodka, but that doesn’t seem to slow our pace as Damian’s hands move over my body.
My fingers come out of his hair and work their way down his back and just under the back of his shirt.
His eyes come open a little, but they close just as quickly when I work my hands under his shirt and around to his strong, firm chest.
“No nudity?” I ask.
“Well, it’s really a judgment call, but it’s not absolutely necessary for—”
I pull open the front of Damian’s shirt, sending buttons soaring in various directions.
“I’ve had kind of a shitty day,” I tell him. “I think I could live with a little skin on skin.”
My lips are back over his, and I’m tearing the rest of the fabric from Damian’s shoulders.
He pulls back a moment, asking, “Are you all right? You seem kind of…ravenous.”
“Just practicing for my role,” I tell him as I guide his hands to the bottom of my shirt and encourage him to lift. “I hear it’s a big one.”
Damian laughs and kisses me, his hands lifting the shirt from my body and then moving around back to unhook my bra.
“You sure you’re good with this?” he asks.
“Oh, just shut up for once in your life, will you?” I ask.
He shrugs and pulls my bra open. I grab one of the straps and quickly remove it from my arm, flicking my other wrist to get the bra the rest of the way off of me.
“Should I be calling you Sophie?” he asks.
“I think we can save that for the cameras,” I tell him, and start working on his belt.
“Whoa,” he says. “I thought you wanted a dry run.”
I laugh a little. “That’s a good one,” I tell him. “You’re very clever with words, you know.”
“I’m not sure where the line is right now,” he says.
I stop what I’m doing and look up at him.
“Where do you want it to be?” I ask.
While he’s trying to muddle through his response, I’m back at the side of the night table, taking another shot of vodka.
“You want some?” I ask. “I haven’t had any in a really long time,” I tell him. “I’d kind of forgotten how fun it can be.”
“I don’t think we should be doing this while you’re drunk,” he says.
“I’m not drunk,” I tell him. “I’ve got a solid buzz, but I’m still making my own decisions here.”
He starts again, “Still, I don’t know if we should—”
“Where do you want the line to be?” I ask him again. “There’s no wrong answer here tonight. Just tell me what you want and that’s how far we’ll go.”
I hold the bottle out to him and he looks at it. Right now, I’m the devil and he’s Faust, only I don’t want his soul tonight. Right now, I just want his body.
We can always go from there.