Chapter 167 *
Scarlett’s POV
He carried me through the living room. Down the hallway. His mouth never left mine.
The hoodie came off somewhere between the living room and the stairs. I didn't care.
My back hit a wall. Damon's mouth moved from my lips to my jaw. Down my neck.
"Fuck." The word came out as a gasp. "Damon."
"What?" His teeth scraped against my collarbone. "Tell me what you want."
"You." I dug my nails into his shoulders. "I want you."
He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were almost black.
"You have me." His voice was low. Dangerous. "You've had me since the moment I met you."
Then he was moving again. Carrying me up the stairs. Through the door to the master bedroom.
He set me down on the bed. Stepped back.
For a moment we just looked at each other.
I was sitting on the edge of his bed. My hair messy. My lips swollen from kissing. Wearing just a tank top and jeans.
He was standing in front of me. His shirt wrinkled from my hands. His hair disheveled. "Last chance to change your mind." His voice was steady but his hands weren't. "Tell me to stop and I will."
I reached for his belt. Started unbuckling it.
"I'm not changing my mind."
His hands covered mine. Stopped me.
"Scarlett." He said my name like a prayer. "I need you to understand something."
I looked up at him. Waited.
"Once I have you like this, you're mine." His voice was quiet but absolute. "Completely. Permanently. No going back."
"I know." I pulled my hands free. "That's what I want."
I tugged at his belt, sliding it free from the loops with a deliberate slowness, my eyes locked on his.
I tossed it aside, my fingers already working on the button of his jeans. Damon's breath hitched, but he didn't move, just watched me with that intense gaze that made my pulse race. I could feel the heat building between us, the air thick with anticipation.
"Scar," he murmured again, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. But I wasn't stopping.
I popped the button open and eased down the zipper, my knuckles grazing the hard length of him through his boxers. A soft groan escaped his lips, and I smiled up at him, feeling a surge of power in that moment.
I stood up from the bed, pressing my body against his, my hands slipping under his shirt to trace the ridges of his abs.
"Your turn," I whispered, my lips brushing his ear as I lifted the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms without a word, letting me peel it off and drop it to the floor. God, he was so hot—broad shoulders, that protective strength etched into every muscle.
I trailed my fingers down his chest, circling his nipples lightly, watching them harden under my touch. "You always act so in control," I said, my voice husky with playfulness. "But I bet I can make you beg."
I leaned in, nipping at his collarbone, then soothing it with my tongue. His hands clenched at his sides, but he let me lead, respecting my pace even as his eyes darkened with desire.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and boxers, tugging them down in one smooth motion. He stepped out of them, standing there naked and unashamed, his erection straining toward me. I licked my lips, dropping to my knees before him. I purred, wrapping my hand around his shaft, stroking slowly from base to tip.
Damon's fingers threaded gently into my hair, not pulling, just holding. "Scarlett... you don't have to—"
"I want to," I cut him off, looking up at him with a wicked grin. Then I leaned forward, taking him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head. He tasted salty and warm, and I hummed as I took him deeper, my hand working what my mouth couldn't reach. His groan was music to my ears, his hips twitching involuntarily as I bobbed my head, teasing him with varying speeds—slow and torturous, then faster, building the tension.
"Fuck, Scarlett," he growled, his voice strained. "You're killing me."
I pulled back just enough to speak, my breath hot against his skin. "Good. That's the point." Then I dove back in, sucking harder, my free hand cupping his balls gently, rolling them in my palm.
But Damon wasn't one to stay passive for long. After a few more minutes, he gently pulled me away, his chest heaving. "My turn now," he said, his eyes fierce with that protective hunger.