My Fake Husband (A Secret Baby Romance) - Page 12

Still, after my bath, when I settled down to read, I couldn’t get my mind off Damon. My future husband.

I wasn’t thinking about making pancakes for him or who would be taking out the trash. I thought about those abs, his shoulders, how he had looked in his basketball uniform back in school, and how he had that Little League shirt from the team he coached along with Brody, and it was so tight around his biceps and his shoulders. The flex of his arm and back as he threw a ball effortlessly to the outfield. No matter how much I tried to concentrate on the book I was reading, I couldn’t keep him off my mind. I threw the library book aside and gave up.

Because a fantasy of Damon formed behind my eyes. Auburn hair in the sunlight, his eyes bright and intense on me. He drops his baseball mitt and strides across the field to where I sit with my mom and his in the stands. He takes my hand, leads me away from the crowd. People stare after us, but I don’t bother to turn around. He doesn’t even say a word to me. But I know exactly where we’re going and why. He opens the door to his truck, and I climb in. We drive off to the falls, to the spot where the couples always went parking in high school. We roll down the windows to hear the crash of the water, to feel the cool spray mist our faces and arms.

We turn to each other. He touches my face, meets my eyes just for an instant. Then his mouth is on mine, consuming me, a hungry kiss that leaves me breathless. His tongue surges into my mouth, and his hands slide through my hair, anchoring my face to his, so I can barely get a breath. His stubble scrapes my chin and cheek, a sound surprises me, and then I realize I’ve moaned. I’ve moaned out loud from kissing him. I must sound like the horniest, most inexperienced girl he’s ever met, but it doesn’t slow him down.

The next thing I know, he’s peeled my t-shirt off and fastened his mouth to my nipple through the lace of my bra. His hot mouth feels amazing, and I moan again and can’t figure out what to do with my hands. I weave them into his hair, arch against him, and he sucks harder, making my nipple go tight and hard, my breasts ache with arousal. I know I’m wet between my legs already, and I want him to know it too. I feel this desire for him to run his fingers through my slick folds and feel how turned on he has made me.

I fumble for the button on my shorts. His hands cover mine and rip the fabric in his urgency to get them off. I work his tight shirt off over his head and marvel at the muscles, the cut lines it concealed. I run my hands all over his chest and stomach, but I have to stop because my breath and heartbeat stutter. Damon’s putting his hands on me, easing me down onto the bench seat, looming over me, crowding me. His fingers dip between my thighs and I watch him, the sly grin that steals across his handsome face when he feels the proof of my arousal.

“You want me, don’t you, baby?” he asks. I grind into his fingers, and he stops teasing me with gentle strokes, starts parting my slickness and thrusts a finger into my pussy. I clamp tight around the invasion, thinking how good it feels and how I want something thicker, like his cock inside me. He pumps that finger, rubs in just the right place, slides in another long finger and thrusts, letting me ride his hand. I’m gasping, panting, whimpering for him. Begging him for more.

He impales me with two fingers while he catches my nipple in his mouth and sucks, dragging his teeth lightly along the tip until I come, shaking and clinging to him in the confines of his truck cab.

Then he’s on top of me, letting me pull down his shorts, telling me it’s okay, I can touch him wherever I want. I’ve wanted this so long that I think I may pass out. I’m hyperventilating. I ask him to kiss me, and he does, a slow, sensual kiss full of promise. My breath heaves in and out. I kiss him back, desperate. My hands flatten on his muscular back, and I bury my head in his neck as he nudges my thighs open, notches his cock at the slit of my sex.

“Please,” I whisper to him. “Please, Damon.”

When I beg, he kisses my shoulder and drives into me in one deep thrust. He goes so much deeper than I could have imagined, his cock so big and brutal, but tender and impossibly sexy at the same time. I feel myself open for him, and I part my legs more just to hold all of him. I like it so much that I start telling him every dirty thing I’m thinking. Then I’m coming again, unbelievably fast and clenching around him, throwing my head back. I can feel a whisper of cool spray from the falls waft in the open window and mist my heated skin. I hold on to him so hard, and I know I can’t do anything but let the frightening pulse of ecstasy take me over, make me thrash and whine as I climax.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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