Moody Bastard, Page 3

  He’d just grabbed a forkful of cake and shoved it into his mouth, and as he watched her take a seat, he said, “Mm. It’s actually good.”

  Sydney narrowed her eyes, wondering why her heart vaulted when he said, mmm. He was just chowing down a piece of cake down like a man did, nothing special or even remotely sexy about that, but her pulse jacked higher when she watched him lick up a crumb from the corner of his lips.

  He took another bite, like he couldn’t help himself, and then made a sex-sounding, rumbling sound of pleasure that just killed her.

  Her sex gripped painfully, a piercing lance of arousal rushing through her unexpectedly. His tongue twirled around the fork to lick it clean, and her own tongue began to throb. She tore her gaze away from his mouth and dropped it, but the workings of his thick, tanned throat also made her head spin.

  He forked up a piece for her and brought it to her mouth, telling her roughly, “eat it.” The words caused a shiver to race along her spine.

  She rolled her eyes heavenward like she didn’t appreciate him force-feeding her, but her belly whirled with some strange excitement as she bit down.

  He watched intently as the chocolate melted in her mouth, and his obsidian gaze made her thighs melt, too. Suddenly her nipples ached, her tummy, her…sex.

  “You like it?”

  His voice came directly from a bedroom. “Y-yes.”

  She felt a crumb stick to her coral lip-gloss and she picked it off with the tip of her tongue, watching Damien once more cut off a piece for himself.

  He rammed it into his mouth, chomping down again, once again saying that damned mmmm that made her stifle a shiver, then when he pulled out the fork and saw all the chocolate frosting still clinging to the fork, he stuck the fork back in his mouth and licked it clean.

  Sydney watched, mesmerized, as his tongue flattened down the length of the fork and he dragged it slowly out. Not even looking at her—concentrated solely on the chocolate—he turned the silver utensil and did the same on the other side, the motion infusing every particle of her being with heat and longing.

  She imagined him so focused on licking a woman and…oh, my.

  When he brought another serving to her, using the same fork he’d just thoroughly licked, she didn’t remember ever trembling so hard on the inside.

  She closed her eyes and tightly wrapped her lips around the fork, pulling every last crumb of chocolate into her mouth. She hummed softly as the chocolate melted, giving one last lick around the fork as he pulled it out. When her eyes opened, his gaze had changed. It simmered.

  His breathing had become deeper, a little more rapid. The next time he fed her, he ran his tongue over his teeth, as though telling her to lick up a leftover crumb, and when she did, something thrilled inside her veins at the smile he gave her.

  “See?” he murmured. “That wasn’t too hard, was it, Sydney?”

  Before she could answer, he grabbed the last piece of cake with his fingers and lifted it to her mouth, his smile gone from his face, his husky voice, “now finish it,” causing her to draw the chocolate along with the tips of his fingers into her mouth. An unexpected whimper she didn’t understand escaped her throat.

  His eyes shot up to hers. And they burned. Hungry as she’d never been in her life, she licked the crumbs off his fingers, and he pushed them deeper into her mouth, stroking her tongue with his fingertips.

  A sound escaped her as she leaned forward, sucking his fingers and wanting to protest as they withdrew. His gaze had never looked so black, the pupils dilated as he dropped his hand to his lap, then slowly shifted it to her knee.

  They were both breathing too fast. Staring at each other too long.

  Her heart pounded with the certainty he was going to kiss her.

  He bent his head until his forehead rested heavily on hers. He dragged in a long, audible breath, then he glided his nose down her cheek. She dissolved with a strange, inexplicable want, her fingers curling into a fist on her lap as she struggled not to touch him, not to bring his face in.

  He was the expert, and she didn’t want to presume he even wanted anything from her. She’d bought a date with him, and that was why he was here.

  But his virile presence magnetized her. Electrified her.

  He was the embodiment of sex and she was the epitome of sex-starved.

  And suddenly he had become the center of her universe again.

  Suddenly she was fifteen, and she thought of him, ached for him, longed for him with every cell of her being.

  His scent was on her nostrils, her body aware of only his hand, resting on her knee, her tongue tasting of the chocolate he’d fed her, the taste of his skin, his fingers…

  She breathed desperately fast through her parted lips, a noise of need escaping her as he dragged his nose to her ear, the textured sound of his voice exciting the hairs on her arms. “Come. We don’t have all night.”

  four

  Damien restlessly circled around Sydney’s bedroom as she stripped again, feeling a little too hot, a little too aroused. His body still vibrated from the feel of her tongue swiping across his blunt thick fingertips. She’d wanted to be kissed. She had been ready for it. Trembling for it. Her breasts heaving under that T-shirt. Her eyes wide and glazed with desire.

  Shit.

  He cracked his knuckles, then rubbed the back of his neck, his head spinning in complete and total confusion. If a slim little woman like Sydney could get him this hot, while two lesbians sucking on each other’s tongues couldn’t, there was something very odd with the state of his life and the world as he knew it.

  Unarousable?

  He could barely walk here. His cock strained in his pants so bad, he was about to burst the zipper open. He kept glancing at the clock, wondering when this would be over. He wasn’t going to get involved with an innocent like her. She was for men stupid enough not to even make a play for her. Not for men like Damien. Pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to calm down, he spotted a photograph of a blonde nerdy guy and her. They were laughing. They looked…happy.

  He cracked his knuckles restlessly again.

  “That’s the man you want to seduce?”

  “Yep.” She was naked again. All bony legs and creamy skin.

  “Or should I say kid?”

  “Just because you’re almost middle aged doesn’t mean its ok to bully younger people.”

  He snorted, then told her, “Get on the bed. Raise your hands.”

  She hopped on the bed, looking almost child-like, then she scooted back to the headboard and raised those slim arms. He felt her eyes on his face as he came over. He became aware of her breath, warm and hot, on the side of his neck, her delicate wrists under his fingers, her body small. Too small. He could break it. If he took her hips and rammed inside her too hard, he could break her.

  “What do you fantasize a man does to you when you’re bound?” he asked, thickly.

  He could feel her eyes on his face as he made a knot around her wrists, then hooked the leather strand around the slits of her intricately carved wooden headboard.

  “We can’t play out my fantasy exactly because I’m saving my v-card, remember,” she whispered. “And my fantasy definitely includes being taken.”

  He leaned back thoughtfully. “Do you masturbate, Sydney?”

  She sucked in a breath, her abdomen clenching visibly. A surge of moisture gathered between her legs—his nostrils flared as the scent permeated him. His balls were turning blue so fast, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He rubbed the back of his neck, all his muscles tightening in need. “Do you masturbate, Sydney?” he demanded, his voice rougher than he’d anticipated.

  “Yes. Do you?” she shot back.

  “Of course. Nobody can survive their teenage years without masturbation.” His voice dropped as he looked at her through his lashes. “How often do you do it?”

  “I…maybe once a month.” She bit her lower lip almost shyly, those blue eyes vulnerable and endearingly expecta
nt. “You, Damien?”

  He noticed her breathing stopped as he bent forward, rechecking the tie. “Easy. I’m just making sure it’s not too tight.”

  Pleased when he could stick a finger in each wrist, he edged back and let his eyes run slowly down her body again.

  “I’d rather be masturbated by someone else.”

  Her hair fell down her small shoulders, and splayed on the bed, she looked like a naked little doll, big innocent blue eyes, pouty pink lips, big lashes. It made him feel indecent to have a hard-on, while looking at something as pure as her.

  The fact that she was still a virgin didn’t help.

  Thoughtfully, he twirled a lock of brown hair around his finger, missing her red hair. She’d had the loveliest red hair, but it was brown now, brown and too drab for someone as spirited as her. Still, her blue eyes were the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen. And her body…

  Small, narrow hips and an even smaller waist, she was still exquisite. Her pussy… His eyes snagged there. His mouth watered. She had a strip of cute little red curls.

  She hadn’t painted that. His jaw ached and his cock strained in his pants. How easy it would be to get her hot…get her to the point where she didn’t even remember making him promise not to have sex with her, getting her hot and to that point where all she said to him was yes.

  Pushing the thought aside, he coasted a hand along her sides, and her breasts started heaving. She had big, beautiful pink nipples, the areolas a fucking mouthful he wanted to tongue. He met her gaze, keeping his eyes shuttered, keeping her from knowing he desired her, he was hungry, that every day he’d regretted he’d denied her, even if it had been the right thing to do. It still was.

  “I could masturbate you,” he rasped thickly, too selfish not to feel her. “You can get used to a man’s touch. I could ease into your climax…it would be close to your fantasy.”

  Her slim throat worked to speak, then she closed her eyes. “You don’t have to. I know you’re used to models and…I only wanted pointers.”

  “Not a problem. I can touch you.”

  “But you don’t want me.”

  “You bought me, I can touch you.” I want to touch you. Tell me to touch you.

  “But do you want to?”

  He squared his jaw, not wanting to say yes. Hell, yes. It could lead nowhere. He couldn’t flirt with her. What was the point? He wasn’t a man for happily ever afters. He wasn’t a man to be wanted long term. He wasn’t a man to have a relationship with anyone, much less an innocent, hopeful young girl.

  No, he wasn’t telling her he wanted to touch her. So he just touched her. He watched her reaction as he slid his hands up her ribcage, his fingers extra careful, almost coaxing as he curled them around her breasts, fondling her flesh softly, almost with…love. He’d just never imagined he’d ever touch her like this.

  A soft gasp tore out of her throat, and she blurted, “Touch me.”

  Their eyes locked. His blood rushed at her concession, and every cell in his body immediately flooded with desire.

  “All right,” he murmured, trying to sound calm and easy as he pulled his hands back, like his balls hadn’t just contracted and his cock hadn’t been this hard ever. It turned him on wildly. To have her bound. To talk to her about everything she wanted sexually, everything she’d done. Now he knew she’d been kissed with a little tongue, and she masturbated occasionally, and he knew what she thought about, in bed, at night, and she’d said touch me…

  Damn. She was the purest thing he’d ever touched.

  He put his palm down on her abdomen, heard her sharply inhaled breath as he circled her belly button with one fingertip, his skin dark and tan, while hers was milky white.

  “I’m going to lick you. Men like to lick women. We like to taste them with our tongue. It prepares us to penetrate them. It gets all our juices going.”

  She nodded, watching as he bent his head and traced his tongue along her belly button. She tasted of sugary treats, but her moan was the best part. The one that most got to him, that clenched around his gut. He almost caught himself groaning back.

  “Your moans tell a man that you like what he is doing to you, the way he is pleasuring you. A whimper may tell me I may be going to hard, but you might still like it.”

  She fell quiet as he dragged his tongue, flat over her flesh, up to her breasts. He engulfed one nipple and heard her draw out a muffled, erotic sound as he swiped his tongue around the diamond-hard tip and suckled it gently.

  His own suctions squeezed around his testicles, clenching him like fists, his cock pulsing to feel her. Using one hand, he tweaked the nipple of the lonely nipple between two fingers. The sound she made this time was like a soft whimper of need, a soft whimper of give me more, I want all of it.

  “Damien,” she gasped.

  He lifted his head, panting, torturing himself. “Yeah?”

  “Do men like it when women suck their nipples too?”

  “Men like it when women suck anything.”

  “But…doesn’t it hurt with your piercings?”

  Torture, this was torture, looking into her flushed face, wanting to fuck her, knowing he would never, ever, fuck her. Fuck.

  “When you’re about to climax, the line between pain and pleasure blends, I like being sucked hard then.”

  “Can I suck one of them very quickly? Just to see if I do it right?”

  He hesitated. Not a good idea, his head said, but every inch of the rest of his body jolted and he nodded. His breathing hitched in anticipation as he undid her tie from the headboard, but he kept the leather firmly tied around her wrists, and she brought them before their bodies as he propped his head back on the headboard and she rolled to her side and ducked.

  He closed his eyes as her warm tongue circled his nipple. Flick by flick, she tasted, prodded, sliding her tongue over his diamond piercing, then gently engulfing it and suckling him. Pleasure vibrated all the way down his body.

  He had the impulse to grind his hips upward. He wanted to pin her down and roll her over and take her fast and hard. Instead he sat here in torture, sweet awful wonderful torture, as she set the fleshy part of her bound hands on his abdomen and then turned to suckle his other nipple like she was feeding from him.

  A shiver ran along her spine, as though sucking him gave her pleasure, too. “Do you like it if I tug on your piercing with my teeth?”

  Her voice, thickened with arousal, did a number on him, and his throat worked extra hard to strain out a, “Yeah.”

  “Gently?” she prodded.

  His mouth was dry, parched, and his jaw hurt with wanting to bite down on her. Any part of her. “Gently. Hard. However you want it.”

  He didn’t realize his hand settled on her back, until he was sliding down to cup her ass. He was about to groan from the pleasure, but he swallowed it back, falling quiet, instead. He didn’t want her to know how turned on he was.

  She was an innocent. He was experienced. He shouldn’t be this turned on by a nipple suck. But seriously, nobody had ever sucked it so cautiously and so thoroughly before. His underwear was soaked in semen already, he was leaking come uncontrollably with each suckle.

  She looked up and her breath bathed over the damp spots on his skin. “Is it normal to get aroused when you suck someone else’s nipple?”

  Oh, Christ. He was dying here. Dying. He nodded, his voice barely past his throat as he instinctively reached out to pull her head down. He stopped himself, only cupping her nape, but not pulling her down. “Does your pussy swell when you suckle me?” he rasped.

  She nodded her head.

  He swallowed back another groan, never imagining an innocent’s questions could drive him like this. But it was Sydney, she’d always been curious as a kitten. And now it was going to kill him.

  He caressed her hair, trying to explain, but who would explain to him what he was feeling right now? With her?

  “It’s normal that your body gets lubricated when pleasuring a partner. A m
an’s cock swells when he sucks a woman’s nipples, too. Turn back, Sydney, so I can masturbate you and show you how to let go so you can come.”

  If she touched him a second more, he’d lose it, and this was about her. About him, doing something nice for her. Maybe she wanted someone else, loved someone else. But right now, Damien could hardly remember his own name, let along that this woman didn’t belong tied up to this bed and splayed open like a present for him.

  She lay before him breathing heavily with her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He wanted her to taste the one on the tip of his cock, to trace all of his tattoo with her tongue. He wanted to plunge his cock into all that moisture.

  She licked her lips as he hooked her bound wrists back up against the headboard, then stroked his hand along her sides. He guided it along her navel and dipped it into her closed thighs, finding her cream, like she said, pooling down. He urged her thighs apart with both hands, found the moisture with two fingers and dragged it back up, to find her pussy drenched and incredibly turgid. His head spun and his eyes blurred from the force of his arousal.

  He felt intoxicated by the sound she made when he searched through her slippery pink rose petal folds. She opened like a flower, and when he inserted one finger inside her, she Damien out a long, pleasured moan.

  Damien closed his eyes and sucked the sound into his body, speaking with his eyes closed, as he absorbed the feel of the tiny, narrow channel nobody had ever been in before.

  His voice throbbed.

  “You know for sure when you’re prepared to be penetrated when you’re well lubricated…the wetter you are, the less a man’s cock will hurt. Your first time you have to be wet. You have to be fondled with his fingers first. Maybe with his tongue. So that you can take his cock without experiencing pain.”

  “What do you mean with his tongue?”

  He opened his eyes, finding her cloudy blue eyes, watching him like he had hung the moon for her. His body burned under her stare, his flesh breaking into a fever. “He can slide his tongue into your pussy and pleasure you with it. Let me show you.”