by Anne Conley
“I want you. But I want to do this right. You’re not just some itch I need to scratch. I don’t think you’re ready for me, but I will have you, Cyn. As soon as you’re ready, I will have you every way you can possibly imagine. And you will love it. I can bring you pleasure you never dreamed of.” His hands left hers and began a slow, torturous crawl over her knees. “But tonight you get a taste.” They moved up her thighs, taking her skirt up with it to expose the tops of her stockings.
Damien lifted her blouse over her head and unfastened her bra before sinking down to kiss her breasts. The sensation of his hot mouth shot a flash of heat straight to her core, and she moaned, gripping his shoulders. Laving open-mouthed kisses across her fleshy mounds, he swirled his tongue around her nipples until they were stiff peaks. Then he pulled one into his mouth and sucked hard, shooting pleasure throughout her body until she moaned with the painful pleasure. He watched her, his eyes sparkling with desire and something far more dangerous.
Cynthia’s core pulsed with fiery anticipation, and she couldn’t sit still. She wrapped her legs around him where he perched on the floor. Pulling him against her, she was desperate to relieve the pressure. She was hot, feverish, and seeing him at her breasts, moaning his own exquisite pleasure, was almost too much.
“Please…” she moaned before he bit into her nipple and then soothed it with his tongue before moving on to the other one. He did the same to her other breast, wringing pleasure from her she’d never felt before while his hand toyed with the first breast, twisting the nipple almost to the point of pain.
Damien lowered his head between her legs, kissing the tops of her stockings, slipping his hot tongue under the elastic, warming her skin with his breath. “Open yourself to me, Cyn…” he whispered between branding her skin with his kisses. “Wider.”
His voice was a command she was helpless to resist. With her legs spread wide, his fingers trailed up her calves to the tops of her thighs and then back down to her ankles, leaving her muscles trembling. Wrapping long, elegant fingers around her slim ankles, Damien lifted her legs straight into the air. “Can you hold onto your ankles for me, love?” His gentle request was a stark contrast to his command from earlier, and she complied, leaving herself open, deliciously vulnerable.
His dark eyes came up from where he’d been kissing her thighs. “Do you trust me?” She nodded, and his eyes darkened further, if it was possible. “I need to hear it, Cyn. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Damien. I trust you.” She had never spoken truer words.
“Good…” A noise that sounded a lot like a laugh of disbelief escaped his throat and his eyes glazed over with a stupor of elation before his massive hands gripped her hips and tugged her down the edge of the bed, leaving parts of her nobody had ever seen before wide open to his inspection.
But he wasn’t inspecting anything. He was devouring it.
At the first stroke of his tongue, Cynthia’s head fell back on the bed behind her, her neck unable to hold her up. His tongue lapped at her sex, and below, to the tiny pucker behind. It was a quick movement, and she was helpless to control her response. His tongue was suddenly everywhere—delving inside her core, flicking her nub, stroking her unmentionables. Then his fingers joined in. He was using both hands—one in her sex, the other pressing against her backside—all while his tongue lavished attention on everything.
His finger on her backside pressed in, just past the rim of her opening, and stilled while his other finger stroked in and out of her. Nobody had ever gone there before; she’d always said that place was a no-man’s land. But then again, Damien was no ordinary man. If anyone could make that pleasurable, it was Damien. His tongue flicked lightly over her clit, and Cynthia was overwhelmed with sensation.
“Touch your breasts for me, Cyn…” His voice was a study in agonized restraint, hoarse and gritty, yet still gentle.
Releasing her ankles, letting them fall onto his shoulders, she grabbed her breasts in her hands, gripping them tightly as Damien chuckled, sending hot chuffs of air across her sex.
“Nipples. Touch your nipples.” She was mindless. As she squeezed her nipples while Damien did what he was doing down there, the spikes of pleasure from everywhere overwhelmed her. When he began moving the finger in her rosebud around, pressing against those forbidden walls down there, her breath started coming in ragged gasps.
“Please… Please… Please… Oh God… Oh God… Oh God…” His tongue continued flicking over her nub in a relentless rhythm, taking her so close to the edge of the precipice but not allowing her to drop. Inserting a second finger into her core and pressing against his other finger in her ass, Cynthia moaned, long and loud, a sound wholly unrecognizable to herself.
“OhGodOhGodOhGodPleasePleasePleasePlease…” She twisted her nipples so hard, she no longer felt them, the heat from down below overwhelming her.
Then at once, everything changed. Damien inserted a third finger, began moving them in time with the other, lone finger, and then tugged on her clit with his teeth, sending her exploding over the precipice in a riot of brightness and garbles of sound from her throat. She quivered and trembled, spasming in her orgasm, unable to control anything. Her thighs tightened around his head, and she clenched her breasts, twisting to get away from all the sensations, yet unable to stop her own movements, as Damien didn’t stop his.
His teeth gripped her clit, sucking it into his mouth and pressing the flat of his tongue against it, hard. His fingers stilled, but she continued pulsing around him, her orgasm going on for what seemed like several minutes. When she finally started coming down from it, he began stroking her again.
Removing his mouth from her, he looked at Cynthia with pure, unadulterated lust in his eyes, still moving his hands gently.
“Ready?”
“Forwha?”
Cynthia was gasping, a boneless mess under his gaze.
“You’re going to do that again. I’ve never seen anything sexier in my life. And I’m older than I look…”
“I can’t…”
Without listening to her weak protestations, he went back down, attacking her clit with renewed vigor. The pain of his ministrations on her over-sensitized flesh was eventually overpowered by Damien’s attentiveness. His groans accompanied this time, and she wanted him to get off, too, to feel some of this pleasure she was feeling, if only a fraction. But as he suckled on her, drawing her in with his teeth, flicking his tongue against her, rammed his fingers in and out of her, she realized there was no way his orgasm could be half as good as what she was feeling right now. She might have felt a little guilty at the thought, but wasn’t really caring too much right now. This felt so good.
He wasn’t gentle. It was as if he was the devil himself, out to wring every ounce of pleasure from her. And he did. The second time the overwhelming sensations took over and threw her over the precipice, she was again screaming gibberish like an idiot, but no longer cared. This time, when she came down, his motions slowed, bringing her down gently, then he pulled her up onto the bed fully and covered her with her comforter. He kissed her on her forehead and wrapped his massive body around hers, cocooning her in a warmth and security she’d never known before. Unable to move, she relented to the bonelessness of sleep.
When Cynthia woke up the next morning, sore in places that had no business being sore, the events of last night came rushing back to her in a mortifying montage. Before she could absorb it all, her phone rang. Damien.
She could hear the cringe in her voice when she answered, but Damien only chuckled at her.
“Good morning, Cyn.” She could swear he got a kick out of her nickname, as his voice seemed to get grittier every time he said it. She wasn’t complaining, it was hot. But this morning, the connotations were embarrassing.
“Morning,” she answered flatly.
“Are you busy tonight? There’s a fair in town, and I’d like to go with you.”
“Um, sure. That sounds fun.” She really needed to start drinki
ng a cup of coffee before she allowed herself to talk to him, since what she said next never would have come out if her cognitive filter was up to par. “About last night. Um… That was—” Amazing, mind blowing, staggering, fucking brilliant. “—um, not the sort of thing I usually do…” How else could she say she’d never had an orgasm with a finger up her ass before? “I mean, I’ve never—”
“No worries, Cyn. It was amazing for me. Mind blowing. Staggering. Fucking brilliant.” Her mouth fell open in shock. How had he read her mind like that? Could they be so linked he would steal the exact words she herself had just been thinking?
“I don’t normally pass out right afterward. I’ve always been one for pillow talk. I should have at least… reciprocated. I’m sorry about that.” Now she was babbling.
“Cynthia.” His voice took on that demanding tone she loved so much. “What happened last night was because I wanted it. If I had wanted a blow job, I would have woken you up to give me one.” A ripple of desire coursed through her at his crass language, and she loved it.
“When are you picking me up for the fair?” She tried to hide her anticipation of seeing him behind a business-like tone of voice, but his chuckle told her she’d been unsuccessful.
“I’ll be there at four, if that’s okay?”
“I’ll be ready.”
She hung up the phone, realizing it was almost noon. She rarely slept this late, unless she’d just had a radiation treatment. But after last night, there was no telling. Cynthia showered and typed up her notes from last night. The club part—not afterward—and started getting ready.
Before last night, Damien had never considered sex a necessity. Created as a sexless being, he’d mostly just used it as a tool for manipulation, not really getting any enjoyment from the act. He fucked lots of women and enjoyed their reactions to it. He’d always gotten what he wanted from it, whether it was to get the other person to do his bidding or their actual soul. But now everything had changed.
There was absolutely nothing like what had happened after he left Cynthia last night. He’d known she would come. He could wring orgasms from women, and men, like water from a wash cloth. But watching her fall apart had demanded something from his body he’d never known possible. He left because it was essential he get home and do something about his intense craving before he took her.
He wanted their first time to be special, something amazing. And the way he was last night would have been animalistic and primal, like a rutting beast. It would probably have rocked his world, but it would have scared the hell out of his Cynthia. He was completely out of control and needed to leave.
So he’d taken matters into his own hand. He’d abused himself for the first time in his existence, wrapping his hand around his thick cock in an effort to satiate his lust before he did something he’d regret.
And that was all so new to him. Regret. Jealousy. Love. Happiness. Lust.
The lust was a kicker. He’d always been familiar with the sensation, as he’d used it against people for eons. But to actually experience it? The blinding craving for another person’s flesh, to hold it against his own? To sink inside her dazzling heat until he didn’t remember his own name. That was new.
The tables had been turned. What used to be a mindless tool to deceive others had morphed into a symbol of his own weakness with Cynthia. He’d never realized how debilitating it could be, how difficult restraint could be, how powerful it was.
Spilling his own seed in his shower had not been the least bit fulfilling. He’d been remembering Cynthia’s face when she came, her nipples twisted beyond recognition in her own hands, the way his fingers looked, sinking inside her as her silkiness pulsed around them. And he’d needed to do it again. And again.
By the time he was finished, he’d rubbed himself raw, a pain he also hadn’t known on the delicate flesh of his member. He’d never again make fun of someone for being in love. He knew the pain.
He tried not to gawk at Cynthia in her jeans and fitted t-shirt when he picked her up for the fair. She looked just as good dressed down as she did dressed up. Once again, his blood rushed south, leaving him with a dull ache. He thought the fair would give him the excuse to spend more time with her. In a crowd of people, primarily families and children, he would have to behave. But he could tell it would be a trial.
The fair was a lovely distraction. Noises and smells assaulted him as he allowed Cynthia to grab his hand and lead him from one joy-filled concoction to another. He’d been to fairs before but never like this. Always, he’d been seeking out some sort of trouble, some person to deceive, some deal to make. Today, though, his main goal was to make Cynthia happy, and judging by the smile on her face, he was succeeding.
“Can we get some cotton candy? I haven’t eaten that since I was a kid,” she wheedled, as if he could say no.
The spun sugar was a sticky, messy confection she ate by the handful, holding some out to him to taste. As he put the baby blue glob into his mouth, he was surprised when it dissolved on his tongue almost instantly, spreading into a puddle of sweetness in his mouth.
“Where did it go?” he asked, flabbergasted, then smiled when he saw her huge grin. His smile dissolved like the sugar when he realized his mouth was filled with a flavor. A flavor. Since he’d just eaten a huge handful of sugar, he could only assume this was what sweet tasted like.
He could taste. Finally.
“Are you okay?” Cynthia was looking at him like he’d sprouted a second head, and he nodded absently.
“Give me more.” He nodded to the huge blob of cotton candy on a stick she was holding and she held it out to him, a concerned look on her face. He buried his face in the sugary sweetness, inhaling the sweet confection. He was oblivious to the sticky mess he made, too busy delighting in the sensations of cotton candy. Opening his mouth, he swirled his tongue around, making a hollow in the towery sweet, in a sensational bliss.
The warm sugar melted on this tongue, coating it with sweetness, overwhelming him beyond measure. When he brought his face back up, it was covered with a darkening blue of wet sugar. “More.” Pointing to a sausage on a stick stand, he tugged Cynthia over. “What do these taste like?”
Thinking she was asking him, she answered, “They’re usually kind of spicy, really greasy, pretty good.” Her face turned quizzical. “Have you never had fair food?”
He shook his head absently, preferring that to the truth that up until this moment, he hadn’t been human enough to taste anything he put in his mouth.
Humoring him, and seeming to enjoy herself as well, Cynthia waited in line with him while he tried the sausage, fried Oreos, funnel cakes, and a turkey leg. His taste buds delighted in all the tiny carnival had to offer, and an unpleasant sensation rocked his stomach. But he didn’t care. This was it. He was human, and he had his woman. Exaltation infused him, and his tummy ache was forgotten. Cyn waited in line for a lemonade while she sent him to a restroom to wash the cotton candy off his face. When he’d cleaned up, he returned to see her smiling at him indulgently.
“Am I making a pig out of myself?” He sipped through the straw and groaned. “Oh, God… it’s sweet. It’s sour. I love it!”
She tugged him over to the rides. “This may be a bad idea after all that junk you’ve just ingested, but I want a ride on the Ferris wheel.”
“Anything for you, Cyn,” Damien replied, feeling more than a little like he needed to do something for her after dragging her to every food stand there was. He didn’t tell her he planned on taking her to get a pizza afterward. He wanted to know what those tasted like. It would probably make him throw up, but Damien wasn’t accustomed to denying himself pleasure, and he’d been doing it with Cynthia; he wasn’t about to do it with something as mundane as a pizza.
The Ferris wheel was a bit anticlimactic after all that delicious food, but having Cynthia squeezed into a tiny box next to him—hundreds of feet in the air—did plenty to keep him occupied. Apparently, she had some ulterior motive for c
oming on this ride, as her hand slid up his thigh, cupping his ever-present erection through the jeans he was wearing.
“I never got a chance to thank you last night.”
The suggestive lilt of her voice made him throb. Catching her hand in his, stopping its movements as she fondled him, he replied, “I didn’t do that for thanks. Watching your face was plenty.”
Her eyes dropped and a flush crept up her face. He realized she’d taken that as a rejection or embarrassment of some sort. “I can’t tell you how beautiful it was to see you come apart like that. I loved it, I don’t need more.”
Her eyelids lifted, and bright green orbs peeked out at him. “I want more, Damien.”
“I know you do. Soon. I promise. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back much longer.” He lowered his head and captured her lips in his for a promising kiss.
As she responded, the kiss that was supposed to just be an assurance of delights to come, quickly turned into something savage. Damien could taste her. She hadn’t eaten anything but the cotton candy, and the remnants of the sugar on her tongue was dizzying. Heady. He suckled her tongue, tasting every inch of her mouth. He could do this all damn day.
He pulled her close, and she nearly fell into his lap as the Ferris wheel jolted along its way up to the top. Her tiny little tongue teased his, dancing an erotic dance of untold delights. She pressed her breasts against him, and his hand slipped up her t-shirt, palming a breast, feeling her nipple pebble before he tweaked it with his fingertips.
She groaned, and her hand went back down to his erection, rubbing it. He groaned into her mouth, unable to stop his assault on it and its sweetness.
When the ride stopped at the top, a thought occurred to Damien, and before he could stop himself, he had her jeans undone and his hand inside her wet heat. A shocked gasp escaped Cynthia, and she whispered, “Damien!”
It broke through his lust fog, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s okay, baby. I just need to taste one more thing.”
