Play with Me

I nod, wanting to believe him. “Yes. Okay. But hurry.” I shove his shirt over his shoulders, the springy dark hair of his chest teasing my nipples. “Before some other problem needs to be solved and something goes wrong and this never happens.”

He frees his arms from his shirt and tangles his fingers into my hair. “Nothing is going to stop this from happening,” he promises. “Not this time.” And then his mouth comes down on mine, his tongue finding mine, a hot demand and a sweet promise all at once. There is something happening between us, a growing bond, a connection that logic says I should fear after the hell of the past months, but I do not. I just … don’t. Not with Damion.

That realization—the understanding of how much I feel for this man—has me wrapping my arms around his neck and melting into him, trying to get closer. He deepens the kiss and I moan, savoring the deliciousness of finally really, truly, being skin-to-skin, embracing the sense of barriers falling away.

Another sweep of his tongue, a caress of his hand on my breast, a tease of my nipple, and I am instantly lighter, freer, and somehow every part of me is laden with desire. This is the power of Damion, and I revel in his ability to make me all things at once, his ability to bring me to a place where there is only him and me. I am wild and hungry, touching him, moving against him. And he is as wild and hungry as I am, as passionate, as intense. We are lost and found together, touching each other, pressing into each other. His hand is on my breast; mine sweeps down his hips, stroking the thick ridge of his cock. I ache to feel him inside me.

“Damion,” I whisper. “Damion—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, kissing me quickly, as if he needs one last taste before he steps away from me and unzips his pants. My heart rate doubles as I watch him shove down his pants and boxers in one sweep. He grabs a condom from his wallet, and, I swear, as impossible as it seems with this confident, amazing man, his hand shakes.

Finally he stands naked before me, gloriously ripped, his body pure masculine beauty, his cock jutting forward, thick and hard, and I cannot breathe as he rolls the condom over himself. He steps toward me and a knock sounds on the door. I jerk toward the sound, my heart lodging in my throat.

Damion wraps himself around me, burying his head in my neck, his lips near my ear. “Ignore them.” He presses me against the wall again, his shaft fitting thickly between my thighs. “Think about me. Think about us.”

Another knock sounds, this one louder, and my hands flatten on his chest. “Damion—”

His mouth comes down on mine, his tongue driving away the voice of reason. No. The voice of Terrance is calling Damion’s name, but Damion acts as if he doesn’t hear it. He deepens our kiss, dragging me back into the swell of passion, and somehow we are on the floor, and now his back is against the wall.

His hands frame my hips, anchoring me, and a mix of urgency and anticipation burns through me. Reaching behind me, I lift my body and press the thick pulse of his shaft inside me, sliding down the hard length of him, sighing as he moves deeper, filling me, stretching me. I lean into him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

Damion’s hand caresses my back, molding my chest to his, and he seems to inhale my scent before whispering, “Finally.”

The way this one word echoes what I feel, the way it tells me he craves and needs me as I do him, stirs emotions in me I cannot ignore. I press away from him, leaning back to see his face, urgent now for another reason. “I don’t want you to regret this or me.”

“I am never going to regret this or you.”

“Your job. I do not want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Stop thinking about what happens outside this room.”

“I’m just—”

He kisses me. “I’m inside you.”

“Yes,” I whisper, and he kisses me again, deeper this time, a claiming, a seduction, and I moan as his hands drag a path down my shoulders to settle at my waist.

“I’m inside you,” he repeats.

“I know,” I pant. “Believe me, I know.”

He frames my face, forcing my gaze to his. “Say it.”

“You’re inside me.”

“Where I plan to stay.”

I touch his face, and I fight the urge to make him promise, but he is already dragging my mouth to his, kissing me, pressing me down on him, and I cling to him, move with him. There is a desperateness to what I feel, to the way I sway and push against him, and I feel it in him, too. There is an explosion of desire between us, a wildness that makes everything else fade. I need more and more. Him. I want him. More him. I think there is another knock on the door, but this time I don’t care. This time there is only the frenzied rush of us grinding together, us panting together.

“Come for me, Kali,” he commands near my ear, and the erotic, sexy words are enough to drive me to the edge. And the edge is so good that I cling to it and to Damion, trying to hold it off. Trying to make that wonderful “almost” sensation last forever, but it’s already too late. I am there. I am tumbling over the almost wall and crashing into pleasure.

I bury my face in Damion’s neck, every muscle in my body tensing. His arm tightens around my waist, and I have this sense of being with him, really with him, present in every way. My sex clenches, and I jerk with the impact of the spasms closing down around his cock. A deep growl escapes Damion’s throat as he pulls me hard against him. I feel him shake but I cannot move with him, frozen by the overwhelming intensity of the sensations sliding through my body. I don’t even know when or how I come back to the present. The next thing I know, Damion is lying on his back and holding me close.

My hand settles on his chest, and I don’t even care that we are naked on the floor of his office. I snuggle against him, unwilling to give up this moment in time with him, but as the silence ticks by, I can almost hear him thinking.

“What do you want to know?” I ask, but I don’t look at him, certain I’m not going to like his reply.

“What happened between you and Kent?”