distracted me from observing him. Distracting or not, my approaching bliss couldn’t be fended off. Like water behind a dam it gathered.
My heels dug in behind him to pull my pelvis to his with greater force.
“That’s it,” he groaned, thrusting in hard and deep. My very bones seemed to reverberate. “Mia . . . Mia . . .”
His eyes screwed shut as his body experienced its own apparently much-needed convulsion. Wetness flooded me inside.
“God,” he gasped.
As if the sound were a switch, another spasm of ecstasy seized me.
His thumb found my pulsing button and for just a moment my brain flashed white. His cock drove into me one more time, its throbbing swell a sensation I wished I could memorize.
As I sagged to the bed in the aftermath, my melodious sigh didn’t sound like me.
Finished now himself, Damien panted beside my ear. He’d turned his head toward me on the pillow. Not all but a good portion of his weight sprawled on me. Given how tall and muscular he was, this meant I was nearly trapped. To make matters more out of the ordinary, his hand cupped my breast as if it belonged to him. His palm was hot, both our skin sweaty.
For some reason, this reminded me of the groans I’d uttered while I thrust back at him.
Self-consciousness stabbed at me. Should I have enjoyed tupping him so much?
I realized the place he’d been inside me was empty. He’d pulled out of me. His wet organ softened slowly on my thigh. I wanted to stroke it, to explore the way it was now. That made me self-conscious too. I needed to think about what had just transpired, to make sense of it for myself. To my dismay, when I tried to extricate myself from under his big body, he moved more fully over me.
“Damien,” I said, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re too heavy.”
He grunted and raised his head slowly. “Sorry,” he slurred. “Shouldn’t have gone at you like that your first time.”
I didn’t point out I’d gone at him just as hard.
“You must need to rest,” he said.
I suspected this meant he was going to leave. Did I want that? My emotions were conflicted.
“I think I should,” I agreed.
He blinked at me. “Okay then.”
He pushed off the bed and stood. Freed now, I sat up myself, finally remembering to tuck my knees together. I didn’t have long to feel like a lady. Without pulling on a stitch, Damien locked his hands above his head and stretched like some glorious, sated animal. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his lengthening muscles—until my attention snagged on his softened sex. The sway of his penis and the pouch beneath seemed the definition of indecent. I shouldn’t look at it. I ought to allow him the same . . . discretion I wished myself.
“Mia,” he said, wrenching my gaze to his.
Was he going to scold me for ogling him?
“I shouldn’t keep you,” I said, hoping to fend this off. “You must want to rest as well.”
He raked one hand through his disheveled hair, which I discovered I preferred to its tidier state.
“Right,” he said. “Until tomorrow then.”
Chapter Seven
REGINA liked to claim (especially when she tried to rouse me in the morning) that I would sleep through the end of days. This night, however, and for the third in a row, I had trouble dropping off when I closed my eyes.
I got up twice: once to confide a few matters to my journal and a second time to use the unusually grand bathroom. Sadly, these entertainments did not exhaust me. My only diversion then was staring at the ceiling.
All old buildings let out the occasional creak or groan, but Diogenes House harbored unique noises. I kept thinking I heard muffled giggles and feet running. I’d just turned my pillow when I’d have sworn a woman’s shriek split the air. Though the sound wasn’t close, I didn’t think I’d imagined it.
I sat up with my heart pounding.
Was someone hurt? Ought I to intervene? My recent experiences suggested the shriek could have been the result of pleasure. Whose, though?
My heels dug in behind him to pull my pelvis to his with greater force.
“That’s it,” he groaned, thrusting in hard and deep. My very bones seemed to reverberate. “Mia . . . Mia . . .”
His eyes screwed shut as his body experienced its own apparently much-needed convulsion. Wetness flooded me inside.
“God,” he gasped.
As if the sound were a switch, another spasm of ecstasy seized me.
His thumb found my pulsing button and for just a moment my brain flashed white. His cock drove into me one more time, its throbbing swell a sensation I wished I could memorize.
As I sagged to the bed in the aftermath, my melodious sigh didn’t sound like me.
Finished now himself, Damien panted beside my ear. He’d turned his head toward me on the pillow. Not all but a good portion of his weight sprawled on me. Given how tall and muscular he was, this meant I was nearly trapped. To make matters more out of the ordinary, his hand cupped my breast as if it belonged to him. His palm was hot, both our skin sweaty.
For some reason, this reminded me of the groans I’d uttered while I thrust back at him.
Self-consciousness stabbed at me. Should I have enjoyed tupping him so much?
I realized the place he’d been inside me was empty. He’d pulled out of me. His wet organ softened slowly on my thigh. I wanted to stroke it, to explore the way it was now. That made me self-conscious too. I needed to think about what had just transpired, to make sense of it for myself. To my dismay, when I tried to extricate myself from under his big body, he moved more fully over me.
“Damien,” I said, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re too heavy.”
He grunted and raised his head slowly. “Sorry,” he slurred. “Shouldn’t have gone at you like that your first time.”
I didn’t point out I’d gone at him just as hard.
“You must need to rest,” he said.
I suspected this meant he was going to leave. Did I want that? My emotions were conflicted.
“I think I should,” I agreed.
He blinked at me. “Okay then.”
He pushed off the bed and stood. Freed now, I sat up myself, finally remembering to tuck my knees together. I didn’t have long to feel like a lady. Without pulling on a stitch, Damien locked his hands above his head and stretched like some glorious, sated animal. I couldn’t tear my eyes from his lengthening muscles—until my attention snagged on his softened sex. The sway of his penis and the pouch beneath seemed the definition of indecent. I shouldn’t look at it. I ought to allow him the same . . . discretion I wished myself.
“Mia,” he said, wrenching my gaze to his.
Was he going to scold me for ogling him?
“I shouldn’t keep you,” I said, hoping to fend this off. “You must want to rest as well.”
He raked one hand through his disheveled hair, which I discovered I preferred to its tidier state.
“Right,” he said. “Until tomorrow then.”
Chapter Seven
REGINA liked to claim (especially when she tried to rouse me in the morning) that I would sleep through the end of days. This night, however, and for the third in a row, I had trouble dropping off when I closed my eyes.
I got up twice: once to confide a few matters to my journal and a second time to use the unusually grand bathroom. Sadly, these entertainments did not exhaust me. My only diversion then was staring at the ceiling.
All old buildings let out the occasional creak or groan, but Diogenes House harbored unique noises. I kept thinking I heard muffled giggles and feet running. I’d just turned my pillow when I’d have sworn a woman’s shriek split the air. Though the sound wasn’t close, I didn’t think I’d imagined it.
I sat up with my heart pounding.
Was someone hurt? Ought I to intervene? My recent experiences suggested the shriek could have been the result of pleasure. Whose, though?
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