“What are you doing?” I practically gasp the question. “Marking you,” Damon declares, then swirls his tongue over the raw spot he left behind, drawing a whimper from the back of my throat. He grips my jaw between his thumb and forefinger and forces my head back to meet his gaze. “If you need to come, you come to me.” I freeze, in too much of a daze to fully understand what’s happening. “What? Why—” He cuts me off with an earth-shattering kiss and lifts me so my legs wrap around his waist and his hips sink between my thighs.
The tension is tensioning
