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“That’s it,” he rasps as he begins fucking me with his fingers. “Be a good girl and come on my face.”
Sometimes the only difference between love and obsession is a broken heart.
Heat sears my skin and I stop breathing. Damien’s lips curve into a smirk. “You like that?” My retort stalls in my throat—and thank fuck—because I realize he’s talking to Mrs. Miller. “Yes, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” My throat bobs on a swallow and right when I’m about to start thrusting because I have to release all this pent-up tension, his tongue glides up and down my shaft again…slower this time. My whole body vibrates in response. “Fuck,” I groan. I’m suddenly thankful he had the good sense to blindfold Mrs. Miller because I grab the bedsheets, coming so hard the bed shakes. And
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“If you want it in my mouth, you better beg me like a good boy.” “I’m not begging you for shit.” His hand wraps around me again and he swirls the pre-cum around my tip with his thumb. “Fuck.”
“There are two types of people in this world, Cain. Those who are capable of greatness, but don’t bother trying. And those who still try even though they’re not capable of greatness.”
“But I did tr—” “You’re neither,” I interject. “You’re the type of person who can do anything he sets his mind to and succeed.”
My partner. The object of my fascination…the person I thought was my reward for all the bad shit I’ve been through…is a traitor. And I was nothing more than a love-sick pawn.
