Claim Me(77)

“Yes,” I manage, forcing the word to my lips. “But more. You.”

He adds another finger and begins a slow, sensual in-and-out. I tilt my head back, letting the pleasure build. I’m close, so very close, my muscles constricting to pull him in, harder and deeper. And then, finally, he gives me what I really want. He shifts his body over mine and holds himself up with one hand near my waist. The other he slides under my ass, lifting me just slightly. It feels strange because I cannot help. My knees and feet are not my own, but it’s not something I’m particularly worried about—for that matter, I’m no longer worried about anything, because Damien penetrates me now, his hips thrusting forward, his cock hard inside me as he holds my hips with his hands and pulls me toward him to meet his thrusts.

His movements are steady, even, and the tingling sensation in my body is like electricity building to a thrumming, steady power. But that’s the thing about electricity—it can surprise you, and when Damien changes the rhythm, I cry out, my body shuddering as a powerful, unexpected orgasm bursts through me, sending vibrant sensations throughout me like ripples from a rock in a pond.

Damien doesn’t stop. He thrusts again, harder and faster, again and again, until he, too, explodes. And, more than that, I explode again with him.

“Oh, baby,” he says, as his body melts against mine.

“That was spectacular,” I say, surprised that I can actually manage to form words.

He leans up on his elbow and looks at me. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm.” I moan in satisfaction. “More than okay. But just a little stiff,” I add.

He chuckles, then kisses me softly and tells me to wait. A moment later he is carefully cleaning me, then slowly unbinding me, massaging each place where the rope cut into me, and gently stretching out my limbs.

He picks me up and carries me to bed, then eases up to spoon behind me, his arms around my waist. I sigh, lost in the pleasure of being so well attended to. I feel spoiled and cherished. More than that, I feel safe.

For a moment, we are silent, but as my mind drifts back over the evening, I cannot keep my question in any longer.

“Damien?”

“Yes?” His voice is tired. Sleep will soon be upon both of us.

“What was your father talking about? Why do you need to be squeaky clean?”

He is quiet for so long that I hold my breath.

“He’s yanking my chain,” Damien finally says. But that is not the truth, and I’m certain that Damien realizes I know it.

“Damien—”

He rolls me over, and something about his eyes tells me that this is it. If I press, he will tell me.

I swallow. Because this isn’t about learning the truth, it’s about Damien willingly sharing the truth with me.

I begin again. “How did you know where to find me tonight?”

For a moment his expression reveals nothing. Then I see the smile light his eyes, though it does not reach his lips. He cups my head with his hand and looks at me with an expression of such adoration it takes my breath away.

“Don’t you know, Nikki? No matter where you go, I will always find you.”





12


My legs are deliciously sore when I wake Saturday morning. I roll over, searching for Damien, but he isn’t there. I consider staying in bed—after all, at some point he has to come back—but the lure of coffee wins out and I head for the kitchen.

The man knows me well, because the note he left for me is taped to the coffeepot.


A few things came up. At the office. Loved last night. The image of you naked and bound, spread wide for me, is burned into my mind. I expect that I will find it difficult to concentrate. I may just have to spank you later for distracting me so …