“Come on, baby,” he said, cocking his head to the side.
His grin was irresistible, teasing me as it stretched across those full lips. The glint of a piercing in his bottom lip gleamed at me through the darkness. His muscled arms wrapped tight around me, and the heat of his broad chest kissed mine as I gasped and moaned underneath him.
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to bite that pierced bottom lip.
I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.
I should mention that I had never thought I would be naked and alone in my bedroom with Damien Blackwood, sprawled out over my bed with his knee between my legs and his lips inches from mine. And I definitely never thought I would let him run his hands over my body, tracing his fingertips over the curve of my breasts and down to the soft flesh of my thighs.
First, because he was a tattooed bad boy.
Second, because he was my stepbrother.
And third, because I was a virgin.
The warmth and weight of his body pressed down on top of me, and I moaned as he kissed me. His fingers crawled deeper into my panties, stroking me and making me moan his name. There was no way this could be happening. There was no way I was soaking wet, moaning and writhing, naked underneath my stepbrother and about to come again.
I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense.
But I didn’t care anymore.
God, how could I care with him fucking me with his fingers like that? With his tongue teasing my mouth, and his cock straining against his jeans, desperate to be inside me? My body was growing warmer and warmer, just on the edge of an orgasm.
“Take my cock out,” he breathed, gazing into my eyes.
“But our parents—”
“They’re out for the night. They won’t be coming back. We’re safe, baby.” He kissed me. “I’ll keep you safe. Always and forever. That’s a fucking promise.”
I believed him.
The more I moaned for him, the harder he became, and I helped strip him of the few clothes he had left. I tangled my fingers in his hair and brought his mouth down on mine. The heat of his skin on mine was amazing. Even if we weren’t alone for the night, the only chance we’d get before my mother divorced his billionaire father and our lives spiralled out of control again, I would have still needed him.
I always needed him.
I loved him, I realized helplessly.
“Cleo,” he said, cradling my face. He was so gentle, despite the muscles and tattoos and stubble across his face. Despite his bad boy reputation and all the things I had heard about him. I had never seen this side of him, one so kind and romantic. “Please tell me you want this. Tell me you’re ready for it.”
I could feel his cock pressing against me, and I bit my lip.
“Please,” I moaned. “I need it.”
He smiled softly, cupped my chin, and kissed me.
“Are you afraid?”
I didn’t answer, paralyzed by the mess of emotions storming inside of me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know anything besides the desperate aching need for his cock inside of me. For his weight crushing me into the bed. For hearing him moan my name like I moaned his.
He waited for me to calm down, kissing the jitters away. My body melted into his helplessly.
I was afraid, I realized.
But only of how much I needed him.
“If it’s because you’re a good girl and good girls don’t do things like this,” he said, “you shouldn’t worry about it. Do you want to know why, baby?”
His voice was playful and teasing, and I glanced up at him to see his smoldering blue eyes burning into mine. His passionate gaze was hypnotizing. He gave me a delicious smile.
He leaned over and pressed his lips against my ear:
“Because I’m going to fuck the good girl out of you,” he whispered. “And that’s a fucking promise too.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed his ass and forced him to me.
His cock slid into me, making me gasp with pain and pleasure. His arms snaked around me, crushing me to him and whispering in my ear about how fucking amazing I felt. My whole body shook, and I could hear myself moaning.
God, he felt amazing.
He was amazing.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Cleo,” he groaned as his hips began to move against mine, slow and gentle. I whimpered in pleasure, and he kissed me again. “Fuck, I love you.”
It was the first time a boy said he loved me.
After a few minutes of letting me adjust to his size, his rhythm began to speed up. His hips grinded into mine, pounding faster with every thrust. Every time I whimpered or moaned, he would lean down and kiss me, his tongue running over my bottom lip.
His fingers reached down for my clit again and stroked it.
The warmth and bubbly electricity in my body reached a peak again, and I cried out his name when the orgasm crashed over me.