Stained

Chapter 113

His lips part with what I now know to be shock as I push his hands together into one of my mine, which in return brings my face inches away from his. "You are so annoying. Why is it so difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself for just a minute? You're staining my childhood moment with your dirty hands."

He smirks wickedly, and then snatches one hand out of my hold and massages my breast.

My forehead falls to his, the sensations his touch ignites making my head so dizzy, I struggle to keep it upright. "Stop distracting me," I whisper, my lips brushing his.

"Demanding," he drawls, rolling my puckered bud between his forefinger and thumb. "Who knew you were a dominant."

Biting my lip to suppress a smile, I snatch his hand back into my grasp and lift my head, cocking my head to the side mischievously. "And who knew you were a submissive."

He stretches his arms above his head and because I'm holding them it causes me to lean forward. "Stop move—." Damien takes my nipple into his mouth over my t-shirt and begins sucking. I scream his name loud enough to wake the dead and hope no one is walking by because despite them not being able to see us thanks to the tall reed grass, they'd definitely know what was going on from that scream slash moan alone.

My free cast hand mindlessly runs through his thick curly hair and when he sucks almost my entire nipple into his mouth, I tug his hair, hard. He groans and I begin to feel myself tittering toward something epic. It causes my hand on Damiens to turn loose and he takes advantage of it; freeing his hands and gripping my waist, turning us.

Once his body settles between my thighs, he hisses through clenched teeth, cursing, "fuck."

Panting, I stare up at him as he peers down at me with heat in his eyes along with another emotion I can't comprehend. Frankly, I don't want to know, like I said; feelings stain things.

Before my mind can wander too deep into it, — like it always does — I elevate my legs and bend them around his hips. He licks his lower lip and the action coerces the shy in me to lock my ankles behind his back, pressing him harder against me. From the corner of my eye, I see him bunch some of the reed grass in his hand.

"You're fucking perfect, you know that right?" He asks, his voice gravely with desire.

My heart flutters inside my chest. He's said it so many times that you would think it wouldn't affect me as much as it did the first time, or the second time, or the third. Yet each time it hits harder than ever before. "And you said you weren't good with words?"

Suddenly he stiffens, pulls back. "I wasn't - I'm not, but the truth is hardly difficult to hide."

Liar.

"Sure," I nod, rolling my eyes.

He grins, grabs my arms and stretches them above my head.