Vulnerability 🔞

Vulnerability 🔞
CHAPTER 48
Olivia;

He looked so hurt. Pissed. Betrayed. An inner part of me already knew the chances I could be wrong was very very high, but it's just too scary to admit right now. I can't think about that right now.

I can't have him meet Zoey now either.

Our eyes were locked on each other for minutes, fixated deeply like we were searching for something.

My gaze faltered, as my hands reached forward, wrapping round his neck.

He caught my wrist, his eyes flickering. Fighting his emotions.

He was still upset, and I couldn’t have that right now. My gaze dropped to my wrists in his grip, and then I used my other hand to grab him by the shirt and pull him to me. I could feel every hard muscle, I could feel him. All of him.

I let my hand slide down, boldly grabbing a hold of his very erect dick through his jeans.

Damon groaned in warning. But I could see he was almost giving in. The anger in his eyes was beginning to be replaced with something else. Something more profound.

It felt like some type of power coursed through my veins, considering I was taking advantage of his weakness.

Me.

I didn’t want him taking steps that wouldn’t benefit either of us so soon. I didn’t like seeing him this angry. So this was just a way to control the situation.

It should have been wrong, trying to have him fuck me when I was dead set on marrying his brother, but at the same time… somehow, it felt really right.

With one hand, I worked on his belt.

“What the hell are you doing?” he muttered in my face.

I stared up at him, channeling the buried emotions I had towards him—the innate want, the desires, how I wished there wasn’t any stumbling block between us. That what happened in the past hadn’t happened. That we were happy couples living our lives the way we wanted.

Damon’s jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought I saw a flicker of vulnerability in his expression.

My fingers toyed with the buckle, slowly sliding the leather free, tugging it loose just enough to hear the faint scrape of metal. His stomach tightened beneath my touch, his breath uneven as I teased the strap free. I pulled the belt out, slow, deliberate, and let it hang loose while keeping my eyes locked on his.

His knuckles flexed against my wrists, but he didn’t stop me.

I trailed my fingers to the button of his jeans, taking my time, deliberately making each motion slow, dragging out the tension. With a faint click, the button popped open, and I slid my hand lower, tugging at the zipper with my thumb and index finger. The sound of it opening was loud in the charged silence between us, each tooth parting like a countdown.

Maintaining eye contact, I drew the zipper all the way down, savoring the heat that escaped, the way his chest rose and fell faster. I pushed my hand inside, sliding up the seam of his trousers, over his briefs, until—fuck.

He shuddered when my palm came in contact with his length.

My pussy clenched. He was hot in my hand, and so fucking hard...

I tugged his trousers and briefs down midway so I could get a proper hold of his cock.

His grip on my wrists slackened, his mouth parting, his eyes boring deep into mine.

I didn’t wait. I let my thumb brush over his tip, watching his breath catch as I circled the head slowly.

Dragging my fist down his shaft, I twisted at the base before sliding back up in a long stroke. His breath hissed between his teeth, and I smirked when his hips bucked into my grip. I tightened, pumping him faster, my thumb circling the slick head with every upward stroke. He groaned low in his chest, the sound raw.

Then… fuck!

With a force I couldn’t fathom, he hauled me to his chest and crushed his lips on mine. Hard.

He didn’t go slow, he didn’t relent. He took without asking. Without caring. Mind-boggling but painful, I could taste blood when he bit my lower lip—but somehow, that fueled my need to get closer.

My hand worked him steadily, pumping in long, sure strokes even as his lips devoured mine.

I didn’t stop, my fist moving up and down, twisting at the top, while his mouth claimed me like he couldn’t get enough.

Every glide of my hand made him groan into my mouth, his kiss growing rougher as my grip tightened and stroked him faster.

I pumped him slow and hard, dragging my palm over his sensitive head before gliding down again, all while his tongue tangled with mine.

His fingers grabbed a chunk of my breast, pressing harder, pinching my nipple so sharply that I tore my lips from his to cry out.

I was a mess, and so was he. In one split second, he was ripping my blouse from the chest down.

His actions were hurried, jerky, like he couldn’t wait one more second to touch me. And I genuinely wanted him to. I wanted his hands all over me. I wanted his mouth on me. I wanted him inside me.

He ripped his mouth from mine, his breathing ragged, and his hands flew straight to my shorts. His fingers dug into the waistband, yanking at the fabric so fast it burned against my thighs. He shoved them down with rough desperation, not even bothering to undo them properly. My gasp broke against his lips as the denim scraped down my skin.

I stumbled a step, his grip never faltering, and in the next second, the shorts were shoved halfway down my legs. He crouched slightly, his chest brushing my stomach as he grabbed hold of the fabric and dragged it down with one swift, impatient pull. They landed on the floor with a dull thud.

His knuckles grazed my calves as he stripped me bare, and before I could even steady myself, he hooked his fingers into the thin band of my panties. One hard tug—then another—and they were gone, flung carelessly across the room.

The air hit my skin, cool and shocking, but his hands were everywhere instantly, replacing the lost warmth. His palms slid up my thighs, rough and demanding, kneading as though he couldn’t decide which part of me he wanted first.

For someone who, barely five minutes ago, glared at me like he regretted loving me--i knew deep down his affection towards me still run deep. It should scare me, make me push him further away, but... I kinda love it. If anything, at least, I was willing to--at this moment, forget about the heartache he'd caused me.

I whimpered when his fingers brushed close to where I needed him most. My hips jerked against his touch, desperate. My own hands now clung to him—I couldn’t stop myself. I gripped his shoulders hard, then tangled my fingers in his hair, yanking him back up to me. My nails scraped his scalp, and he groaned into my mouth, answering with another bruising kiss.

Damon lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, my bare heat pressed directly against the hard length I’d just been stroking. My skin prickled everywhere his body touched mine. His cock pushed against me through the last barrier of his briefs, hot and urgent, and my breath stuttered at the sensation.

One hand held me up against the wall, the other fumbling between us. He shoved his briefs down enough, freeing himself, and the blunt head of his cock slid against my folds. The friction made me shudder, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Damon…” I whispered, half-plea, half-warning.

He didn’t wait. With one strong thrust, he pushed into me. The stretch was sudden, delicious, almost painful—but it was everything. My body clenched tight around him, a broken cry ripping from my throat as he filled me completely.

His forehead crashed against mine, his breath hot and heavy. "You won't be the death of me, Peach."

I clung to him, nails biting into his back
, my entire body arching into his as he pulled back only to drive into me again, harder, deeper.