by Mandy Baxter
He finally managed to work his zipper down and when his cock sprang free of his underwear, Tabitha’s eyes widened in appreciation as she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. That one look was worth a thousand compliments, and it stroked his ego no small amount to know that his body pleased her.
As he moved to go back on his knees, Tabitha’s voice stabbed through the quiet. “No.” He stilled, brow furrowed with worry and she added, “If I can’t touch you with my hands, at least let me appreciate you with my mouth.”
“Holy shit, woman, are you trying to kill me?” The thought of her mouth on him while he lapped at her pussy was just too much.
“Not kill you.” Her voice was a husky purr that slid down his spine in a pleasant shiver. “But I do want to enjoy you.”
Damien scrubbed a hand through the tangles of his hair. “Not yet. Put your head on the pillows, keep your hands above your head, and open your legs for me.” It wasn’t a rejection of her attention. Good God, he wanted her mouth on his cock so badly he was trembling with need. But when he gauged her reaction to his gentle command—her quickened breath, liquid eyes, and the slight flush of her cheeks—Damien knew that he’d made the right decision. Whether she realized it or not, she craved the domination. And he was going to give her what she needed.
Tabitha did as he told her to, repositioning herself on the bed so that her head was on the pillows, arms resting near the headboard. Her back arched slightly off the mattress as she let her legs fall open and Damien admired her for a long moment before he came around to the foot of the bed and positioned his head between her thighs.
The woman was a fucking goddess, and he was about to worship her.
The first pass of his tongue on her soft flesh was bliss, and it sent him teetering over the edge of his control. As though he’d lived his life in a state of perpetual starvation, Tabitha became his sustenance and he finally knew what it was to be full. He took his time, learning the intricacies of her body, what made her moan, and what quickened her breath. A long drag with the flat of his tongue from her tight opening to her clit made her arch off the bed, and quick flicks of his tongue caused her to writhe in his grasp, her hips rolling and thrusting to meet his mouth.
When he sucked on the silky lips of her labia, she cried out, and when he took the swollen knot of nerves at her core between his teeth, she sobbed her pleasure. “Damien! Oh God, Damien.”
He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, a pang of regret stabbing through his chest as she called out a name that was as much a part of his façade as the tattoos that graced his arms and chest. For the first time in as long as he’d been a member of the Marshals Service, he didn’t want to be Damien anymore. He wanted to be Parker Evans, and that was the name he wanted on Tabitha’s lips.
You should squash those fucking thoughts and thank God a woman like this is willing to give you the time of day, let alone the pleasure of her body.
Amen.
Tabitha laced her fingers and clasped her palms tightly together. She’d do whatever Damien asked as long as he kept making her feel this way, and that included resisting the urge to touch him. It was like he knew her body better than she did, every pass of his tongue a deliberate motion executed to achieve a specific reaction.
A gentle flick was followed up by a long, languid pass with the flat of his tongue and Tabitha cried out, not giving a damn who might hear her. He sucked, nibbled and licked, loving every inch of her throbbing sex with his talented mouth. Tabitha released her hands and gripped the pillow behind her, clutching the fabric like a lifeline. She floated on a cloud of bliss, pleasure like nothing she’d ever experienced, and if she didn’t hold on to something—anything—to anchor her, there was a pretty good possibility she’d fly right into the stratosphere.
Damien slowed his pace and soon the pressure of his mouth was gone. Tabitha thrust her hips toward his mouth, eager for him to continue, but he pulled away and blew lightly over her heated, wet flesh, causing a delicious chill that made her bones go soft. Oh . . . God . . .
“Do you like that?” His voice was a sensual growl that vibrated up Tabitha’s spine. He nipped at her inner thigh and a low moan escaped her lips.
“Yes.” The word came as a desperate whisper, thick and rough.
“Should I do it again?”
“God, yes.” She thrust her hips toward his mouth in frustration.
The pad of his finger teased her opening, the contact with her oversensitized flesh almost more than she could bear. He spread her wet arousal over her sex and blew again, the lightest breath that brought more of the intense chill that rippled over her skin like cool rain from a summer storm.
“Again?”
Words failed her. Mindless with need, all Tabitha could manage was a pleading whimper. The way he teased her was maddening. The most delicious torture she’d ever experienced. He caressed her, explored every inch of her with tender attention. Played with her. Tantalized her. A shock of heat as his mouth fastened over her sex. Blinding pleasure as he feathered the blunt tip of his thumb over her clit, just before his fingers rocked inside of her. Tabitha’s body coiled, winding and turning over and around itself until she was nothing more than a constricted, quivering bundle of sensitized flesh, want, and need. Damien was going to break her apart and she welcomed the moment when he would shatter her completely.
His fingers bit into her flesh as he took her hip in his palm, his grip pulsing in time with every pass of his tongue. Tabitha cried out, her back arching off the bed and he reached up with his other hand to cup her breast, teasing her nipple with a slow roll and then a tight pinch that sent her toppling over the edge.
“Damien!” His name burst from her lips as she came, as reverent and solemn as a prayer. Wave after wave of the most intense pleasure she’d ever felt crested over her. Damien hadn’t simply broken her apart. He’d obliterated her. She was nothing more than stardust, particles floating in a vast universe. This moment was unparalleled and it caused such intense emotion to roil in her chest that her heart felt as though it would burst. Even the men who’d claimed to love her had never loved her in the way that Damien just had. Dear God, she was ruined.
Tabitha lay still, panting through the aftershocks of what was hands down the most amazing orgasm of her entire life. Damien kissed the insides of her thighs, upward and over one hip. His mouth was a brand as it traveled across her lower abdomen, his tongue dipping briefly into her belly button. Up her torso, a light kiss to each one of her ribs and then over the swell of her breast before his mouth sealed over her nipple, sucking gently. She arched into his touch, desperate to comb her fingers through his hair and yet still unable to ignore his command that she keep her hands bound above her. Any other man would have been content to know that she’d gotten off, and would have been pounding away by now, or requesting that she return the favor with her own mouth. But she already knew that Damien was unlike any other man.
He attended her other breast with the same loving attention before kissing across her collarbone, up the column of her throat, beneath her ear—where he paused to take the lobe between his teeth before drawing it into his mouth. The deep inhale of Damien’s breath caused chills to dance over Tabitha’s skin as he buried his face in her hair and breathed her in. Her heart raced in her chest, on the verge of tears or laughter, she didn’t know which. He was too good to be true.
“I could do that all night,” he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. “Just lick and suck and taste you. Feel you come against my mouth. Again and again until the sun rose and we collapsed from exhaustion.”
The words were so tender, a sharp contrast to the natural gruffness of his voice. Spread out beside her on the bed, his body felt even larger and more imposing. He braced himself up on an elbow and studied her with a quiet wonderment that made Tabitha’s breath hitch.
“What?”
He smiled, showcasing the deep dimples in his cheeks that turned her bones to mush. “You’re beautiful.”
“I want you. I need to be inside of you. I—” Deep grooves marred his brow as though he struggled with what he wanted to say. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything. Ever.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He sounded so conflicted. Why?
“Because it scares the hell out of me.”
Her stomach twirled into myriad tiny knots at his words. He’d been so honest with her and deserved an equally honest response. “I want you, too. And yeah, it’s scary. But it’s also amazing.”
Damien positioned himself fully on top of her. Tabitha let her legs fall open, ready to accept him, but he held himself back, careful that only his torso made contact with her body. His arms trembled with the effort he exerted to keep himself suspended above her. “I’m a miserable son of a bitch, Tabitha. But I’m not a complete bastard. No matter how badly I need your body, it can’t go any further than we already have tonight.”
What? Why? Panic shot through her bloodstream. The night had barely begun as far as she was concerned. “What if I’m not okay with that?”
He brushed her hair from her face, lost for a moment as he rubbed the strands between his thumb and forefinger. He kept his gaze averted as he said, “You just want me to fuck you without any consideration of the fact that we have no protection? You don’t really know me, Tabitha, yet you think I’m that trustworthy?”
Shit. She hadn’t considered the fact that they had no condoms, or contraception of any kind. It had sort of become a non-issue in the heat of the moment. Did she find him trustworthy? She’d heard her share of excuses over the course of her adolescence, and even a few from Joey when they’d dated. I’m sterile. If you loved me you would . . . I was just tested, babe. I’m totally clean. And her all-time favorite, I’m a virgin. You’re my first. Little did Eric Jones know that his last girlfriend flapped her lips about their sexual exploits to anyone who’d listen. She’d heard more than her fair share of excuses of why it was okay to have unprotected sex, but never had a man given her an argument for why they shouldn’t.
It was true that she didn’t know Damien well. But she did trust him.
“I’ll take my chances. I want you. Please, just . . .” Her rational brain had taken a vacation the second he put his hands and mouth on her. She knew this wasn’t a good idea, but somehow she didn’t care. “Trust me. I’m not willing to let tonight end. Not yet.”
He kissed her once. Softly. Just the slightest contact of his lips on hers.
“Baby, you’re driving me crazy.” He rolled his hips and the silky flesh of his erection brushed her thigh. “I can’t get enough of you.” Another thrust of his hips and he groaned, his teeth welded together as a look of near pain marred his strong features. “Sex is off the table. Tonight, at least. But you can do whatever else you want to me. Touch me, taste me. Fuck, I want your mouth on me. You’re in control now, this is your show. I trust you, too.”
Tabitha didn’t know it was possible to experience this sort of intimacy without actual intercourse. At twenty-three, she wasn’t exactly a seasoned pro, but in her past relationships, sex had always been the endgame. A frenzied mess of excitement and urgency that came and went like a passing storm. Tonight was more akin to an ocean tide. Ebbing and flowing, building to high breakers that lulled into gentle waves. Give and take. Urgent and easy. She’d never felt more comfortable in her own skin and yet so unaware of her own body. Damien had showed her all of this.
And now, he was giving her the reins. No sex, but other than that, he was hers. How could tonight get any more perfect? “Roll over,” she said. “I want you on your back.”
Chapter Fourteen
Damien propped himself up higher on his elbow and used his free hand to release the T-shirt that was now hanging limply from Tabitha’s wrists. She’d trusted him completely, resisting the urge to use her hands despite the fact that they’d basically been free the entire time.
This was uncharted territory for him.
The majority of his past sexual relationships had been short-lived and sometimes anonymous encounters that scratched an itch for both parties and nothing more. Damien was usually very careful about choosing bedmates who weren’t looking for more than a couple hours’ worth of fun. His life was always in turmoil, traveling from one undercover assignment to the next. He didn’t have the sort of stability in his life to support an honest-to-God relationship with a woman. And now that he’d finally met someone who made him want to stick around, he wasn’t sure if a relationship with Tabitha would survive the laundry list of obstacles they’d have to overcome.
When her hands made contact with his bare skin, however, any obstacle seemed surmountable.
Warm and soft as satin, her fingers glided over him. She studied him with an intensity that made his heart race as she traced the outlines of the tattoos marking his pecs, ink that he’d recently become ashamed of because he’d begun to associate them with a lifestyle that he didn’t subscribe to, yet had to pretend to live.
“I love this one,” she said as she lovingly traced the artwork that crawled from his left pec up his shoulder. “The artwork is so intricate. What’s the symbolism?”
Truth be told, he liked that one too. To the casual eye, the whorls and angles that made up the spines and scales of the dragon’s head looked innocent enough. But to the discerning eye—the gangbangers and dealers who’d notice—the tattoo artist had hidden symbols that denoted his affiliation with the Russian mob. “The artwork is meant to represent Norse folk art. Dragons are considered evil in some of their mythology, but also creatures of immeasurable power.”
“And this? Is it Norse too?”
She traced his opposite pec. This image depicted a snarling bear, and again, the artist had carefully hidden symbols meant to buy Damien street cred: stars that indicated stints in federal prison. Tabitha’s fingertips traced each of Damien’s knuckles and moved over the dots on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, a false representation of the number of men he’d killed. These were the images—not the tattoos themselves—that Damien despised. Lies constructed to maintain his cover, permanently etched on his skin.
“The bear is associated with the berserker. Warriors possessed with supernatural strength and fierceness in battle that made them more animals than men.”
Her mouth spread in an enigmatic smile. “They’re beautiful. I love them.”
On and on she went, her palms roving the landscape of his body as though mapping every inch. She asked questions and he answered, more interested in observing her expressions than his own responses. He could watch her for hours.
“When I first noticed these, I thought they were gang symbols,” she said with a laugh as she traced the ink tattooed between his knuckles. “But they’re definitely not.”
“Runes,” he said.
“More Norse stuff?”
“Yeah,” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment. He must seem like one of those idiots who’d succumbed to the tribal tattoo craze, inking his entire body in a theme. He dropped the façade of Damien’s cover. She’d put her trust in him tonight. He could return the favor by sharing a little bit of Parker with her. “My mom’s family are Norwegian. Most of them still live in Norway. I used to hear all of the myths and stories when I was little.”
Tabitha brought his hand to her mouth and kissed each and every knuckle. Damien’s stoma
ch twisted into a knot so tight, he doubted it would ever unfurl. She kissed the inside of one wrist, and then the other, before venturing up his arm, across his shoulder, and down over the tattoos she’d traced just moments before. Her tongue flicked out at one nipple and he inhaled a sharp breath.
His stomach went rigid as she kissed a path down his abs, and he swallowed a groan as she went lower still, dragging the flat of her tongue across the juncture where his hip met his thigh. Hard as stone, his cock throbbed between his legs, and when she nipped at the flesh on his inner thigh, the sting of her teeth caused the bastard to twitch as though in anticipation of similar attention.
Tabitha took her time, acquainting herself with his body in the way he’d done with hers. Her will had to be stronger than his, because only seconds of her attention drove him crazy with desire. He wanted her so badly, every inch of him ached. She rose above him, settled her body between his thighs and bent, hovering over the one place he was dying to have her mouth.
“Tell me what you want,” she said in a husky tone that tingled down his spine and settled in his balls. “And I’ll do it. Anything.”
Even after handing her total control, she gave it back to him. She trusted him. Wanted this give-and-take between them. He’d never known a woman like Tabitha. As though she sensed his need for control in the way he sensed her need to be controlled, they fit together like puzzle pieces. Perfect.
“I want you to suck the head of my cock.”
Her gaze heated at his words and she dipped her full lips to his erection. A low moan vibrated in her throat as she wrapped her mouth around him and the sound tingled down his shaft. She curled her tongue around the engorged head, soft and slippery, before she sucked gently.
