Page 13
Story: Vengeful Embers
My body clenches at the raw truth of it. My pulse pounds so loudly it fills my ears. Before I can reply, Damien's mouth crashes down on mine—urgent, possessive, scorching. His tongue parts my lips and claims me with a force that knocks my breath sideways.
Then his hands are on my dress.
Damien drags the zipper down in one swift, controlled motion, pulling the silky fabric over my head and drops it in a pool of black on the floor. Damien’s gaze drops, and the corner of his mouth curves—not in arrogance, but reverence. I’m in nothing but my lacy black bra, matching panties, and heels, the cool air teasing my skin where the heat of his body just was.
Damien’s fingers trail lightly over the tops of my breasts, and then he cups them through the lace, kneading gently. My backarches, a soft whimper escaping my throat as he brushes his thumbs across my nipples. The friction is maddening. When he slips a finger beneath the lace, tugging until my breast spills free, my breath hitches.
“You’re perfect,” Damien murmurs.
He unclasps the bra with ease and peels it away, baring me fully to his gaze. I’m exposed. And yet, I’ve never felt more desired. Damien’s pupils darken as he drinks me in, his eyes igniting something reckless and hungry inside me.
The cushions cradle me as I stretch out before him. Damien turns towards me, his large hands sliding down my thighs, pushing them apart as he settles between them.
Then, slowly, he hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and pulls them down. The air hits me and I shiver—not from cold, but from the intensity of his stare. He sucks in a breath, like the sight of me naked steals the air from his lungs.
“Fucking beautiful,” Damien growls.
His hands glide up my thighs again, rough palms and skilled fingers dragging fire in their wake. When he reaches my core, Damien pauses, eyes locked with mine. His touch is soft at first, teasing, exploring the slick heat of me.
My hips jerk. He strokes again—firm, deliberate.
“God, you feel amazing,” he says, voice low and guttural. “Like warm liquid velvet against my fingers.”
His face drops close to my pussy as his fingers part the lips and he runs the tip of his tongue over my sensitive flesh.
“Ahh,” escapes my throat as my body hangs in anticipation, wanting to feel his mouth on me. But instead, he slides a finger inside me. My breath catches. Another joins it, stretching me, filling me, curling just right. My hands grip the sofa cushions, my body arching to meet his rhythm.
Damien moves slow but steady, his thumb circling my clit in time with the thrusts. Pressure builds fast—my whole body alive and trembling, caught in the pull of a storm I can’t stop.
“Oh God,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
“That’s it,” Damien breathes, watching my face. “Come for me, Tara.”
I shatter—everything in me breaks open. Pleasure explodes, racking me in waves. My thighs clamp around his wrist. My hips buck against Damien’s hand. I moan his name as the orgasm rips through me, body trembling, breath stolen.
He doesn’t stop pumping until the tremors subside, until I collapse back against the cushions, dazed and gasping.
And then, before I can catch my breath, Damien lifts me.
Cradles me like I weigh nothing.
I press my forehead to his shoulder, still catching my breath. “That was…”
“Just the beginning,” Damien murmurs, carrying me toward the bedroom. “I hope you didn’t think our night was over.”
He lays me gently on the bed like I’m something precious. Something fragile. But Damien’s eyes say he’s about to ruin me.
And I want him to.
I want to be ruined by this man whose name I barely know.
Damien strips off his shirt, revealing a body chiseled from stone with a dragon tattoo wrapped around his torso. His muscles flex as he undoes his pants, and I can’t stop staring. He’s big. Everywhere. My pulse skips a beat.
Damien climbs onto the bed and slides over, his skin warm against mine.
His mouth finds my breasts, tongue circling my nipple before sucking it deep. I cry out. My back bows off the bed. Damien’s hands grip my thighs, spreading me, positioning me exactly where he wants me.
He kisses his way down my stomach, takes his time with the inside of my thighs, his breath teasing my sensitive skin.
Then his hands are on my dress.
Damien drags the zipper down in one swift, controlled motion, pulling the silky fabric over my head and drops it in a pool of black on the floor. Damien’s gaze drops, and the corner of his mouth curves—not in arrogance, but reverence. I’m in nothing but my lacy black bra, matching panties, and heels, the cool air teasing my skin where the heat of his body just was.
Damien’s fingers trail lightly over the tops of my breasts, and then he cups them through the lace, kneading gently. My backarches, a soft whimper escaping my throat as he brushes his thumbs across my nipples. The friction is maddening. When he slips a finger beneath the lace, tugging until my breast spills free, my breath hitches.
“You’re perfect,” Damien murmurs.
He unclasps the bra with ease and peels it away, baring me fully to his gaze. I’m exposed. And yet, I’ve never felt more desired. Damien’s pupils darken as he drinks me in, his eyes igniting something reckless and hungry inside me.
The cushions cradle me as I stretch out before him. Damien turns towards me, his large hands sliding down my thighs, pushing them apart as he settles between them.
Then, slowly, he hooks his fingers into the sides of my panties and pulls them down. The air hits me and I shiver—not from cold, but from the intensity of his stare. He sucks in a breath, like the sight of me naked steals the air from his lungs.
“Fucking beautiful,” Damien growls.
His hands glide up my thighs again, rough palms and skilled fingers dragging fire in their wake. When he reaches my core, Damien pauses, eyes locked with mine. His touch is soft at first, teasing, exploring the slick heat of me.
My hips jerk. He strokes again—firm, deliberate.
“God, you feel amazing,” he says, voice low and guttural. “Like warm liquid velvet against my fingers.”
His face drops close to my pussy as his fingers part the lips and he runs the tip of his tongue over my sensitive flesh.
“Ahh,” escapes my throat as my body hangs in anticipation, wanting to feel his mouth on me. But instead, he slides a finger inside me. My breath catches. Another joins it, stretching me, filling me, curling just right. My hands grip the sofa cushions, my body arching to meet his rhythm.
Damien moves slow but steady, his thumb circling my clit in time with the thrusts. Pressure builds fast—my whole body alive and trembling, caught in the pull of a storm I can’t stop.
“Oh God,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
“That’s it,” Damien breathes, watching my face. “Come for me, Tara.”
I shatter—everything in me breaks open. Pleasure explodes, racking me in waves. My thighs clamp around his wrist. My hips buck against Damien’s hand. I moan his name as the orgasm rips through me, body trembling, breath stolen.
He doesn’t stop pumping until the tremors subside, until I collapse back against the cushions, dazed and gasping.
And then, before I can catch my breath, Damien lifts me.
Cradles me like I weigh nothing.
I press my forehead to his shoulder, still catching my breath. “That was…”
“Just the beginning,” Damien murmurs, carrying me toward the bedroom. “I hope you didn’t think our night was over.”
He lays me gently on the bed like I’m something precious. Something fragile. But Damien’s eyes say he’s about to ruin me.
And I want him to.
I want to be ruined by this man whose name I barely know.
Damien strips off his shirt, revealing a body chiseled from stone with a dragon tattoo wrapped around his torso. His muscles flex as he undoes his pants, and I can’t stop staring. He’s big. Everywhere. My pulse skips a beat.
Damien climbs onto the bed and slides over, his skin warm against mine.
His mouth finds my breasts, tongue circling my nipple before sucking it deep. I cry out. My back bows off the bed. Damien’s hands grip my thighs, spreading me, positioning me exactly where he wants me.
He kisses his way down my stomach, takes his time with the inside of my thighs, his breath teasing my sensitive skin.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84