Drawn (24 page)

He places the book aside before sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me against him. “Do I need to take you into the bathroom and show you again?” he murmurs
, his need for me growing obviously as my own pulses between my legs.

“You’ll make me late,” I return, although I’m not moving away from him. I want him. I always want him.

“I don’t even want you to go.” He crushes his mouth against mine before I can respond, my head swirling as I whimper into his mouth, melting beneath his touch.

His hands work quickly to unbutton my jeans as I shuck my shoes off to the side
before he pulls the denim down my legs. At the same time, I remove the shirt I just put on and drop it on the carpet, just in time for him to stand and lift me off the floor.

“Stay with me,” he whispe
rs, walking us into the bedroom and laying me on the bed.

“I want to,” I breathe, my arms reaching out to him as he removes his clothes and climbs on top of me. “I really want to.”

He lets out a slow moan as he sinks himself inside me, his eyes locked with mine, and a look of pure bliss on his face. “I need you Etta. You’re everything to me.”

As he moves inside me, he continues to whisper about how he feels
when he’s around me, how he needs me, and doesn’t want me to leave him. His words fill my heart with such emotion that it feels as though it may very well burst along with my insides as I burst around him. 

“You’re all I have,”
he murmurs, as I moan through my orgasm, his thrusting increasing in pace as my climax continues, and I start to shriek, the intensity becoming more than I can bear.

“Oh god!
Damien! Oh!” I yell, blood pumping through my ears as my mind reels with the increasing sensation of what I think is about to be another orgasm.

He reaches between us, rubbing at my clit as his thrusts continue. “Don’t ever leave me
Etta. Don’t ever fucking leave me.”

“I won’t,” I gasp. “I promise you I – oh god!” My hips buck up again as white spots burst from behind my eyes
, and my core clenches, tightly around him. He thrusts into me, as deep as he can go, shuddering and spilling his juices inside me.

Breathing heavily, he dips his head down, kissing me slowly as our connection pulses between our legs. His tongue enters my mouth, and slides against mine, exploring every
texture my mouth contains.

I wrap my arms around him, feeling as though his kisses are feeding me the life I need to l
ive as he rolls us over, so I’m on top. Pushing through my arms, I separate our mouths and look down at him lovingly, before dropping soft kisses over his face - similar to what he does to me. I kiss him on the arch of his dark brow - on the line in between them that forms when he frowns. He closes his eyes, and I kiss him on his eyelids, his cheekbones, his dark stubbled jaw, and the tiny hint of a cleft that can be seen in his chiselled chin.

I’m amazed by how much I feel. I know I’m young. I know I only have a couple of relationships to compare this to. But, this feeling… I struggle to describe it. It’s wonderful, yet frightening. Is this level of connection
even normal?

The intensity creates an ache in my chest that makes me want to claw at my skin to get it out. I don’t know what it is. It’s making me crazy, elated and scared – all at the same time. I. Just.
Want
. Him. But, I feel perplexed by my want. It seems irrational, yet irrevocable.

Placing my hands on his chest, I sit back and remove my bra, dropping it on the floor beside the bed as I
slide up his shaft and lower myself down languidly, sending us both once again into the oblivion that seems to exist between us.

***

Opening my eyes, I blink twice in the dark of the room. Damien’s arm rests snuggly around my waist as he curls his body around me, his face tucked into the back of my neck.

My stomach grumbles loudly, and I realise that we were so caught up in each other that we skipped dinner.
Which reminds me. “Oh no, my parents!” I gasp, flinging Damien’s arm off me as I sit bolt upright in the bed.

“What?” he asks sleepily.

“My parents. I was supposed to go there for dinner. Oh my god. They’re going to kill me.”

“Relax. I messaged them for you. They said to come on Sunday instead.
I’ll go with you if you like.”

“What do you mean? When?” I ask, reaching over to click on the bedside lamp so I can see him.

He flinches his head back, squinting against the light
as his eyes adjust to the bulbs bright intrusion. “When you were in the shower. Can we go back to sleep now?”

“No
Damien. We can’t go back to sleep. Are you telling me that you messaged them before I even got dressed to go out, and told them I couldn’t go without consulting me? What were you going to do if you couldn’t convince me to fall into bed with you? Tie me up?”

“You’re over
reacting. I did you a favour. You very obviously wanted to stay.”

“You ca
n’t just keep using sex to get your way, and you can’t go making decisions for me. They’re my parents. You shouldn’t be cancelling my dinners with them and then luring me into bed to keep me away.”

“
As I recall, I didn’t have to try that hard to get you into bed,” he says, sitting up beside me and kissing the bare skin of my shoulder.

“
I might have to start making it a lot harder,” I say, annoyed that he was so presumptuous. “You know what? I’m going to start staying at my place instead of yours. This is bullshit.” I whip the sheets away from my body and stand up to go and find my clothes so I can leave.

“That’s not going to work,” he says calmly from the bed.

“Isn’t it? How do you figure that?” I say, as I lean down and scoop up my bra before turning to leave the room and get the rest of my clothes from the living room floor.

I don’t even make it to the door before he springs out of bed and
comes up behind me, wrapping his body around mine, pressing us up against the wall. “Because every time I touch you, this happens,” he growls in my ear, causing my heart to drop and my chest to constrict. I hate that he’s right. I hate that he holds so much power over me.

My body screams out for him as
his hand slides over my stomach and between my legs, his fingers gliding between my folds, already dripping with my arousal. His cock presses against my butt cheek as his fingers push inside me before gliding out and circling my clit with their silken touch.

“Oh god,” I moan,
my anger evaporating. I don’t understand why this is happening, but I’m loving every second he touches me. “I hate you for this,” I gasp, writhing against him, struggling with the power he seems to hold over me at the same time. How is it that one man can enter your life and take over it completely in such a short time?

Using
his feet to spread my legs, he tilts my hips toward him, impaling me from behind as his fingers continue to work on my nub. Gasping with each upward thrust, I press my hands and face up against the wall, all thoughts and protests leaving me as I go spiralling toward ecstasy like this man is some sort of drug to me. I’m totally addicted.

“What are your plans for today?”
Damien asks me a week later after training. He’s got me going every day at the moment, and despite having reservations about it at first, now that I’m giving into it, I’m finding that I’m really enjoying it.

I still haven’t gone and had dinner with my parents. Once again, I cancelled. But at least this time I did it on my own. I
told them I had some uni work to catch up on for my Monday class when really, I was too busy luxuriating in Damien’s attentions. I just can’t seem to get enough of him.

We’re sitting in the waiting area
of the gym, eating a breakfast of blueberry muffins. He actually made them – they’re just a packet mix, but the effort he went to while I was still sleeping is very touching.

“I guess I’ll
try and catch up on some uni work and veg out at your place?” I suggest, wondering if he’ll let me stay there on my own.

“How about, I drop you off at the library - I have a class at ten, then I can pick you up afterward
, and we can go home together?” 

“Sounds perfect,” I smile, a
lthough I’m slightly disappointed. He speaks of trust, but won’t trust me with things that are important to him. I don’t think he trusts that I won’t start going through his things, or try to get into his spare room. I suppose he’s justified in thinking that way. I probably wouldn’t trust me either – I really want to know what he’s hiding in there.

I watch him, wondering why he’s so secretive as he gathers our things. What else
is there going on with him? I know that he knew my brother, he back alley fights for fun and profit, plus he works on nude portraits of random women. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to see or be a part of any of it. Does he think I’m so fragile that I couldn’t handle the reality?

Granted, I flipped out when I saw Bec half-naked in his apartment, but that was Bec – the woman who acted like she owned him when I first met him. Of course I wasn’t going to be ok with her. But perhaps, I could be ok with his other clients if he’d just
show me what it all entails. Perhaps I could understand. Right now, I just feel like he’s protecting me from absolutely nothing. I’m not a child. I can handle knowing.

He takes my hand, his touch breaking through my thoughts as the conne
ction of our skin heats my body. Leading me by the hand, the cool air of the morning touches the bare skin on my legs as we step out into the sunshine and get into his car.

I’m wearing one of those really short khaki coloured skirts that look like they’re trying to emulate cargo pants, and a fitted
black singlet with a pair of iPanamas and my hair piled up in a bun on my head. It was all Damien’s choosing. I expected that the gym bag would contain my usual t-shirt and leggings combo, but today, he went and changed things on me.

“I can’t believe this pen has
n’t washed off my legs yet, it’s been a week and a half and it’s only faded a bit. What the hell did you use?” I ask.

“It’s a tattoo pen,
it’ll wash off eventually,” he tells me casually, as he pulls out onto the traffic on Northern Road.

“Eventually
? That doesn’t help me much.” I run my hand over the intricate design. It’s edges starting to blur with wear, but it’s still beautiful. “Why do you have a tattoo pen?”

“Why
don’t
you have one?” he counters with a grin.

“Do
you have it because you like tattoos? Are you thinking of getting one of your own?” I shoot at him.

“Yes, and no.”

“What made you buy the pen?”

He just glances at me, and suddenly I realise that there might be another girl – maybe more – out there who have had him do the same thing. Pressing my lips together, I pull my skirt lower, trying to cover it.

“No. I haven’t done that before,” he says suddenly. When I look at him in question, he explains, “Laid in bed with a beautiful woman and drawn on her – you are the first.”

Sighing my relief, I release the hem of my dress.

“You’re a jealous little thing aren’t you?” he asks.

“Have you seen you?” I retort, as if that should explain everything.

“No, I only see you,” he replies. My breath catches in my throat, and quickens in my chest. With just a few simple words, he’s got me all hot and bothered again.

“I want you
Damien,” I murmur, feeling a little bold, sliding my hand over his thigh.

“How do you want me Henrietta?” 

“Right here. You need to pull over.”

“Where?”

“Up there.” I point, squirming in my seat.

He pulls over on the dirt strip beside the busy road. “Now what?” he asks with a grin. He seems to be really enjoying this.

“Slide your seat all the way back.”

He does as I ask, clicking the lever at the side of his seat and letting it roll all the way back. “Get on,” he tells me, taking the lead back from me.

Glancing down, I can see his cock, straining against the linen of his black pants. I climb out of my seat and onto his lap, pulling on his drawstring and sliding my hand inside, nursing his cock in my hand.

“I love your cock,” I whisper, stroking my hand up and down his shaft.

“My cock loves you,” he grins, grabbing onto my hips and lifting me up. My hands fly up to his shoulders to steady myself so I don’t hit my head on the car roof. He pulls my panties to the side and positions himself at my entrance. “Slide down,” he growls, pressing down on my hips, as I ease myself over him, joining us to the hilt.

Moaning, I start to move on top of him, pushing through my thighs, dragging up his long, thick shaft, and slamming back down, grinding at his base. As my excitement grows, my speed increases, rocking the car with our movement.

“Oh god!” I call out, digging my fingers into his shoulders, my insides bursting like a dam at the same time that he shudders beneath me, spurting himself inside me, his own fingers digging into my hips. As our breathing calms down, I start to laugh.