Falling for Cyn Page 8

  It was fast and furious, and she deserved so much more, but he couldn’t help himself. He buried three fingers inside her and pressed his thumb on her clit, rubbing hard circles. Her gasps turned to whimpers, which turned to groans as she fisted his hair in her hands. His mouth dropped kisses down her neck while his hand worked debauchery in her jeans.

  “Ohgodohgodohgod…” she muttered mindlessly as he smiled around her skin.

  She came with a cry, grinding her pelvis into his hand as she pulsed around his fingers in a glorious erotic display of abandon. When he removed his fingers, he immediately popped them in his mouth, sucking the juices off and relishing the flavor of his woman.

  Sweeter than the cotton candy.

  Cynthia and Evelyn sat in her living room floor, surrounded by packing boxes and bubble wrap, sorting through her things.

  “You really don’t have to help me do this, although I appreciate it. The whole idea was to save you and my parents the trouble,” Cynthia stated again. She’d tried to get Evelyn to go home for the past four hours, but her friend was not to be thwarted.

  “I still think this is all ridiculous, Cyn. And you know that. The only thing left to do, as your friend, is to help you navigate the woods of lunacy you’re travelling through.”

  Handing a box over to Evelyn, Cynthia said, “Will you put this on the pile for charity, please?” Evelyn stacked the box on top of the enormous stack Cynthia was donating in the event her surgery didn’t go well. It was the majority of her stuff. They were almost finished packing up her apartment, sorting through things to go to her family, Evelyn, and charity.

  “Why are you being so negative about all this?” Evelyn’s eyes were watery with unshed tears, and Cynthia stopped what she was doing to look at her best friend.

  “I’m trying to face facts, Ev. The odds of me surviving this cancer are slim, and I want to do as much for my loved ones as possible while I can. It’s not negativity, it’s pragmatism.”

  “Whatever. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy is what it is. Of course you’re going to die with this attitude.”

  “Everyone dies.” Cynthia was sniffling herself. Why now, of all the times in her life? Things were going so well with the fragrance and Damien. As if reading her mind, Evelyn broke into her thoughts.

  “So what about this guy? Are you going to let him go to the hospital with you?” Cynthia had hurt Evelyn’s feelings by telling her not to go to the hospital with her. She knew her friend would go and wait through the surgery in the waiting room, anyway.

  “I haven’t asked him, no.” Damien had done his part to keep her from thinking negatively about all of this, almost as much as Evelyn had. But he seemed to believe she’d make it and refused to discuss the possibility of a negative outcome. He’d been over several times in the last week and a half—watching movies, bringing take-out—and they’d had great visits. She still hadn’t slept with him, though, and as soon as Evelyn left, Cynthia planned to call him and remedy that situation.

  Her surgery was tomorrow morning, and as far as she was concerned, she didn’t see a need to wait any longer, no matter what his thoughts on the matter were. She wanted him. He wanted her. This may be her last chance. If she died, she was going to die knowing the pleasure of Damien. It was as simple as that.

  On Evelyn’s way out the door, Cynthia handed her a box. “Will you make sure my parents get this stuff? There’s a note in there, on top.”

  Evelyn sighed. “You haven’t even told them, have you?”

  “Why make them worry? What if everything turns out okay?” That was the first time she’d ever spoken those thoughts aloud. Evelyn and Damien must be wearing her down. “They would have been worrying with you the past four months, over nothing. And unlike you, they’re ancient bodies can’t handle that stress. You’ve worried enough for all of us,” she said with a smile. A year ago, when she’d first been diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer, she’d told her parents. Of course, they’d worried and smothered her, been in the thick of everything—driving her to treatments, cooking for her, doting, freaking themselves out. Then the cancer had gone away, and they’d all cried so many happy tears. Her father’s health had weakened during the entire process from lack of sleep and the stress of it all. Now the cancer had metastasized in her brain, and she didn’t think they could do it all over again. And she didn’t want them to.

  Evelyn gripped Cynthia in a fierce hug, and Cynthia whispered, “Goodbye, Ev.” She knew it was morbid, but she was using a rare opportunity to say goodbye to her friend, just in case.

  “Don’t,” Evelyn said thickly through her tears. “Don’t make this like that. I’ll see you tomorrow when you wake up, bitch.”

  Cynthia laughed and sent her friend on her way.

  Cynthia had been thinking about Damien most of the day. This was her last night before surgery, and she wanted to spend it with him, in bed. No more making out. She needed sex, with Damien. Something about him told her it would be torrid, feral, and delicious. She’d never had sex like that, and with her mortality hanging in the balance, she needed it.

  After Evelyn left, Cynthia showered and dressed, applying careful makeup and spending more time than usual on her hair. Then she called him.

  “My surgery’s tomorrow, and I wanted to spend tonight with you.”

  His voice was huskier than usual when he finally answered, “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I figured I’m not going to sleep much, anyway, so I might as well be doing something fun while I’m not sleeping.”

  “Fun?” She heard him swallow, and smiled. “That’s the word that comes to mind?”

  Well, not really. Animalistic. Primal. Dirty. Fucking fantastic. She took a deep breath, girding her nerves. “Will you come over?” She didn’t think he’d reject her offer, which was obvious to her, but niggling doubt still poked her stomach.

  “Five minutes.”

  Cynthia straightened nervously, doing what she could to tamp down the nerves that had risen in her belly. She was ready for this, for more with him, even if she didn’t make it past tomorrow.

  She heard his characteristic whistle as he climbed the steps to her apartment, and when he knocked, she was unprepared for the vision that assaulted her when she opened her door. On the surface, he just looked like his normal, yummy self. Dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, he exuded sex appeal through his immaculate musculature and predatory stance. But the heat in his eyes nearly undid her. His deep black eyes were filled with lust and desire, tempting her darkest imaginings. He knew what she wanted, and if she read him correctly, he was willing to comply.

  Damien shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped inside. His hair stood up, looking like he’d been running his hands through it since she’d called him. He was tense, every muscle in his body coiled to react. He looked… dangerous.

  “Cyn—” he began, his eyes pleading with her, those dark, expressive eyes. “I know what you’re expecting tonight, and I’m just not sure I can do it.” He looked back down, and dread buckled Cynthia’s knees.

  She sat on the couch and stared at him. He wanted this. She just knew it. So what was his problem? Forcing herself to shut up and listen, she waited for him to continue. “I’ve never known anyone like you, and I’m afraid.” His eyes pleaded with her for understanding, of which she had none. What could he possibly be afraid of? They were both consenting adults.

  She made a noise in the back of her throat, desperate for him to continue. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you or scare you, or…” He looked back up at her, leaning his head on the door behind him. “I’m dealing with some heavy shit right now.”

  “Look, if I was that mistaken about you, I’m sorry. This is just sex, Damien. I’m not sure what will happen to me after tomorrow, and I just wanted something to take my mind off the possibilities.”

  His head snapped back up, his gaze fixating on hers. “This is not just sex for me. I will not fuck you for a distraction. If we do this, you will be mine. Yo
u will belong to me. I love you, and I can’t go back to what I was before you.” The intensity of his voice stirred something inside her. His words washed over Cynthia, leaving her a quivering mess. He loved her.

  His eyes penetrated, filling her with heat. It wasn’t a fuzzy warmth. He filled her with something exotic, something foreign. She heard him swallow, a thick clicking in the back of his throat, and his Adam’s apple only emphasized the noise. He stood there silently, watching her, waiting for her reaction.

  The truth was, she loved Damien, couldn’t imagine her life without him, his intensity, his smile, his rare but heartwarming child-like explorations. Her eyes roamed to the box she’d packed for him in the event things didn’t work out as planned tomorrow. It contained some sexy articles of clothing which reminded her of him, as well as a journal she’d written in for the past month, filled with feelings and thoughts about him. She had also included some of the movies they’d watched together, a framed photo of the two of them at the park, and some cookies she’d made yesterday, as well as a package of cotton candy.

  When she looked at him again, he hadn’t moved. He waited patiently, as if they had all the time in the world. But his body was still coiled tightly, ready to pounce. Or bolt.

  She swallowed, and finding the strength to stand, said, “Okay.”

  Damien’s hands came out of his pockets as he took a step toward her. Stopping himself, she watched him hold on to a tenuous thread of control as he clenched his jaw hard enough to wiggle his temple. She almost smiled at his unwavering hold on himself, until he spoke.

  His voice was low, growling, and sent a shiver of anticipation pooling in her core as her panties were simultaneously drenched. Just by the sound of his voice. “Go to your bedroom.”

  Scampered is the only word to describe how she got there. She wished she could teleport and save some time, but her rush was futile. She listened to Damien’s heavy footsteps as he slowly stalked across her apartment. At her door, he leaned against the door jamb, hands casually hooked in his belt loops. She could see he was on the edge, and something wicked inside her craved the sight of Damien losing his ever-present control.

  Cynthia’s tongue dragged across her bottom lip, leaving a trail of moisture. Damien’s eyes settled there, only drifting lower when she teased him with her fingertips on the buttons of her blouse. Fingering the top one, Cynthia watched Damien’s eyes track the movements as she undid it, revealing the dark red corset she wore underneath, just for him.

  “Is that mine?” His low voice sent a tremor of need through her, but she nodded silently, unfastening another button. After two, she stopped, unsure of herself. “Keep going.” His voice was rough and ragged, undeniably sexy. One of his hands went to the bulge in his jeans, and she forced herself to continue, slowly, when what she really wanted to do was rip the shirt off and drop to her knees in front of the man in front of her.

  When her blouse was finally open, Damien stalked toward her, his fiery eyes roaming across her body, leaving heat in their wake. The corset she’d purchased framed her breasts, leaving them exposed. She had an idea Damien’s sexual tastes were kinkier than most men, and judging by the look of possessiveness in his eyes, she wasn’t wrong. He liked it.

  He licked his lips and spoke, and Cynthia could have climaxed just from the edge on his voice alone. “What do you want from me, Cyn?” He was pleading with her, as if she were undoing him just with her presence. It was a powerful feeling, and she squirmed under his scrutiny.

  “I want everything…” she managed to croak out, reaching for him. He met her halfway, possessing her mouth with a kiss unlike any other they’d had up until now. This kiss claimed her, and the words he spoke earlier rang true in her mind with the deliberate sweeps of his tongue through her mouth. He did own her, body and soul. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for Damien.

  He scooped her up and dropped her on her bed, standing there, looking down at her.

  “I don’t know what to do first…” He spoke to himself, musing out the possibilities, and Cynthia wondered at his vagueness. Not for long.

  With both hands, he ripped her skirt off until she was lying there in only her panties and the corset. She writhed, one hand unconsciously drifting down her belly toward her panties.

  Cynthia watched as Damien took off his shirt, raising one hand behind his head and pulling it off to expose rivets and dips that made her mouth water. He had the body of an angel, but the grin on his face when she gasped at his chest was positively devilish.

  “Take off those panties, Cyn,” he growled at her and she eagerly complied. She wanted him to touch her, but he was still at the foot of the bed, just devouring her with his eyes. “Roll over…” Cynthia did as she was told, rolling on top of one hand, which immediately dropped between her legs. She couldn’t help herself, she needed some relief from the pressure building there. Turning her head to the side, she saw Damien had opened his fly and reached into his pants to pull himself out. His eyes were glued to where she touched herself, writhing on the bed as he began stroking his thick, heavy length, his powerful hand gripping tightly, muscles bunching and veins popping in his forearms.

  “Oh God…” she whimpered when she saw how big he was.

  “No need to call on him tonight. I’m pretty sure he’s seen what he needs to.”

  His odd words were lost to her as she succumbed to the sensations wracking her body. Damien finally touched her, grabbing her hips and lifting her up. “Let me see you touch yourself… That’s so good, Cyn…” His hot breath soon covered her bottom while she dipped her fingers in and out of herself, but when his tongue finally joined in the action, she exploded, her body wracked with the climax of mostly anticipation.

  “Don’t move,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, and she opened her eyes to see him gripping himself at the base, twitching. “You deserve slow and sweet, but I’m afraid this is going to be hard and fast. Not sure I can help myself.”

  Before she could find the words to tell him she didn’t care, he was inside her, stretching her with his girth, bottoming out against her core. She gasped at the mix of pain and pleasure of Damien filling her, stretching her. Her body yielded to him, conforming to him, fitting him.

  “Fuck!” she exclaimed, unable to find any other words but powerless to stay quiet. One of his hands ran up her back, leaving goose bumps in its wake, only to tangle in her hair and yank her head back as he gripped her hip. The pain was consuming, from her neck, stretched and pulled back, to her scalp, where pinpricks radiated outward. But it added another dimension to the pain of him inside her, stretching her, and she couldn’t tell him to stop if she wanted.

  “That’s it. Talk to me. Tell me what you need…” he gasped at her, his own restraint evident.

  Damien was holding himself still inside her, and it was killing her. Cynthia wanted more. “Move, dammit!”

  With a strangled sound, he did, easing out and then slamming back into her. It was forceful and demanded her body to react. Which it did.

  Every thrust hit her spot with a force that wouldn’t be denied. Yes, he was rough, and yes, it hurt some, but the gratification of the sensations coupled with the tempestuousness of everything was doing more for her than anything ever had.

  “I’ve never…” Damien muttered between hisses as his hand gripped her hips painfully. “I’m gonna…” His hand left her hair and came around her throat, pulling her up against his hard chest, holding her there. The struggle to get a full breath was exciting, adding yet another dimension to everything else.

  When his hand tightened, choking her, she struggled to breathe. It was delicious sensory deprivation, a lightheadedness which increased every other sensation. Damien’s ragged breaths got louder, his muttered curses in her ear more meaningful, the rod pounding inside her stroked more places. It was like by depriving her of oxygen, her blood flow increased, capillaries expanded, nerves twitched, allowing her to feel more.

  The residual pain in her head, coupl
ed with his huge hand wrapped possessively around her neck, was undoing her quickly. It was panic at first, but as soon as she remembered who she was with, something else came over her. She knew Damien wouldn’t hurt her. He was doing this for pleasure. His pleasure. Her pleasure.

  Her vision faded around the edges, giving her yet another dimension to explore. As Damien pounded in and out of her, his hardened length lashed her insides, hitting nerves with every thrust. She was ruined for anything else except this pleasure. Damien was it.

  And fuck, was it good. When his hand came off her hip and grabbed her clit, tugging painfully, Cynthia rocketed into an intense orgasm stemming from the paradoxical sensations of pleasure coupled with pain and fear. She could feel him swell and twitch inside her as he slammed inside one last time before mumbling every curse she’d ever heard and then some.

  He collapsed next to her, pulling her into him and wrapping his entire body around hers. She was completely enveloped in the man. As she lay there trembling, she desperately attempted to catch her breath. Eventually, when she thought her voice would work, she choked out one word.

  “Wow.”

  He gasped a few times, then managed a “Yeah.”

  Tugging her impossibly closer, he whispered in her ear, “Sorry. I wanted that to be more special.”

  “I can’t imagine anything more special, Damien.” She struggled to turn in his arms so she faced him, his eyelids droopy over his dark eyes, his mouth curved in a goofy smirk.

  “Yeah, that was pretty fucking amazing.”

  Cynthia kissed his chin, the stubble rough against her lips. “We can always try again for more specialness, if that was what you were going for.”

  Tugging her lips into his, he kissed her with so much passion she thought she might weep. He was slow and purposeful with the kiss, but his desire shone through the gentleness. With a sweep of his tongue, he was in, and while his fingers deftly removed her corset, she succumbed to the riot of sensations he evoked in her.