“Yes,” I hissed. “Yes, Damien.”
“When you piss me off, I’m going to fuck you. When you get an attitude, I’m going to fuck you. When you smile at me, I’m going to fuck you.”
An orgasm unexpectedly slammed into me, and I screamed for only a moment before ecstasy latched itself around me. I twitched and bucked against Damien as my insides burned like molten lava. This orgasm wasn’t like anything I had ever experienced before; there were no pulses in my clit and no waves of bliss. Instead, I experienced a whole-body sensation of pleasure that continued to swirl around me the longer Damien continued to fuck me.
“Harder!” I screamed.
Damien fucked me harder, and it prolonged the orgasm, and when my back arched, and I felt a rush of heat slam into my pussy, I knew it had come to an end. I fell backwards into the bed, and only noticed then that Damien wasn’t moving anymore. He was slumped over me, barely holding his bodyweight on his elbows. I felt a slight jerk of his hips, but it was obvious that he came at the same time as me.
“You … came.”
I couldn’t move.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Hard.”
“No.” He groaned as he moved his hips and slipped out of me. “I’m mean literally.”
I couldn’t focus on what he was saying, so I didn’t even try. I closed my eyes and relaxed.
“Alannah.”
I didn’t answer him.
“Baby?”
I groaned in response.
“You came,” he repeated.
“I know I did,” I answered groggily. “I screamed for a reason.”
“Freckles.” He chuckled. “I mean that you squirted.”
I almost collided with Damien as I shot upright.
“I did not!” I stammered. “I don’t squirt. I’ve never done so!”
Damien lifted his hand to the back of my head and pressed on it, until my gaze was lowered, and my eyes were locked on the wet patch on the bedsheets between my parted thighs.
“Oh, my God.”
I now knew what that rush of heat was, and I wasn’t sure if I should be proud or embarrassed. Damien didn’t give me a moment to think, he nudged my head with his, and when I looked at him, he covered his mouth with mine and pushed me back until I was laying down, and then he covered my body with his. I wrapped myself around him and hummed with delight.
“It’s so sexy that you came like that,” he said against my lips as he used one hand to push my now wet shorts down my legs. “So. Fucking. Sexy.”
“I’ve never come like that before,” I said, sliding my tongue over his lower lip.
Damien pressed his forehead against mine. “I’m glad it was with me.”
“I’m glad everythin’ is with you.”
I looked down at my naked body. “You’ve taken everythin’ off me.”
“The only thing I’m not taking off you is my eyes.”
I shuddered.
Damien looked deep into my eyes and said, “You mean the world to me.”
I slid my hands up his back to his neck and smiled. “You are the world to me.”
When his lips kissed me next, I lost all rational thought and my very world became Damien.
“Alannah?”
I looked up when Morgan called my name.
“Yeah?”
He smiled at me and shook his head. “I’ve called you four times.”
I blushed, embarrassed.
“Sorry, I was in a world of me own.”
That translated into I couldn’t stop thinking about Damien, but Morgan didn’t need to know that.
I hadn’t seen my boyfriend since yesterday, the morning after we had sex, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He phoned me during his lunch hour and said he was helping Kane out with a few things after work, and that I shouldn’t wait up for him. I did wait up for him, but he never came by my apartment. It was the first night since we became a couple that we hadn’t slept in the same bed together, and I found that I could no longer sleep without Damien being by my side or hearing his soft snores surrounding me.
I tossed and turned all night, and at four a.m., I gave up on trying to sleep. I changed into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings, then went into my office and began to paint. I was an artist who expressed myself in many ways, but for some reason, I only gravitated towards painting when I was sad or stressed out about something. My portrait, of course, was a perfectly sketched image of Damien that I brought to life with colour.
I glanced at the painting that was still drying on my easel in the corner of the room. I sighed as I picked up my phone and checked for the millionth time to see if Damien had messaged me. He hadn’t, and that irritated me because I had messaged him, twice, asking if he was okay, and he never replied. I was worried, but if it turned out he was perfectly okay, then I was going to be pissed at him for ignoring me.