Page 118 of Give In

She doesn’t have droplets of darkness.

She has a fucking ocean of it, deeper than I’d have ever guessed.

And I’m drowning.

Chapter Twenty-three

Perpetually Exhausted Racoons

Eden

Tapping my phone against my bent knee, I sat on my bed and stared unseeing across the room.

It’d been almost a week since Damien and I had started sleeping together. School had been uneventful and normal. We’d pretty much ignored each other like we had before, just without the coldness.

Because I’d still been undecided about my future at Sinners post-skeevy guy, I’d decided to dip into my much-needed but rarely used vacation days. I hadn’t told Damien about taking the whole weekend off, but as always, he’d just known and had lured me to his house nightly with sexual manipulation and sweetly filthy promises.

Not that it’d taken much convincing.

Rather than working myself to the bone—gross pun unintended—I’d relaxed with Damien. I’d watched movies on his lap. I’d eaten meals on his lap. Read on his lap. Fucked on his lap.

Or bent over in front of him.

Or under him, safe and surrounded, the rest of the world blocked out.

Or spread in front of him so he could eat what he called his ‘favorite snack.’

I’d loved it all. Sitting like that was comfortableandcomforting—something I wasn’t familiar with.

It wasn’t just about sex. Being around him filled me with so much sizzle and crackle, those words seemed insignificant to describe the way I came alive. My sizzle was molten lava and my crackle was effervescent bubbles in my veins.

That being said, the sex was so phenomenal, I worried I’d become addicted. I hadn’t had the time or energy or, frankly, the desire to overanalyze things. I’d just loved it, in all it’s filthy wrongness.

Most of the time when we’d had sex, he’d been in complete control—of himselfandme. He’d ordered me around until I’d been positioned how he’d wanted and doing what he’d wanted, and then he’d reward me with praise that filled my heart and pleasure that… well, filled other places.

A few times, Damien had taken it slow, teasing until I’d been a boneless heap of pliable human, begging him to do whatever he wanted as long as he made me come.

But when he’d fucked me early that morning, it’d been so different, I’d almost have thought I dreamed it had I known to dream something so amazingly perfect.

There’d been just a hint of sunlight peeking through the blinds when I’d opened my eyes, sleep fogging my brain but my body already on the verge of combustion. When I’d shaken off sleep enough to move, searching for what Damien held just out of reach, he’d covered my body with his and slammed deep.

It’d been… I didn’t even know how to describe it.

There’d been no orders or punishment. He’d been intense and unhinged, fucking me with a desperation I’d never experienced before.

I wasn’t sure what’d prompted it, and by the time I’d been capable of speaking, I’d been too exhausted to do more than fall back to sleep in his arms.

I’d happily and eagerly take it any way he wanted to give it because they were all good—he made sure of it. But that had been beyond any dream or fantasy.

Spending time with Damien hadn’t been us just going at it like Viagra-fed bunnies who’d eaten oysters and chocolate while listening to Marvin Gaye.

I’d caught up on school assignments while he’d planned lessons and graded papers—though I’d been adamant we not discuss any of it, even conversationally.

I’d found time to read two whole romance books and get halfway through a third one—something that used to take me months due to lack of free time.

He’d read a progression of political parties book that’d offered intellectual stimulation, but not the good kind like mine had.

And we’d talked. A lot.