Page 6 of Bought by His Brother’s Best Friend (The Bennett Brothers #1)
The first brush of his lips against mine was gentle, questioning.
I answered by pressing forward, deepening the kiss.
His mouth was warm and tasted of champagne, and something inside me that had been wound tight for years suddenly released.
I sighed against his lips, and he ran his tongue along the seam of my mouth.
We kissed like that for what felt like hours but was probably only minutes—exploring, tasting, learning each other. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.
“That was worth waiting for,” Damien murmured, his hand still cradling my face.
“Definitely.” I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in years. “Though I wish we hadn’t waited so long.”
“We’re making up for lost time now.” He kissed me again, more deeply this time, his hand sliding from my face down to my chest.
His palm was warm through the fabric of my shirt, a delicious weight that made me lean into his touch. He traced the outline of my chest, his thumb brushing over my nipple, which hardened instantly at the contact.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice husky.
“More than okay,” I breathed.
His hand traveled lower, caressing my stomach, then lower still until his palm pressed against the growing bulge in my pants. Even through the layers of fabric, the heat of his hand was incredible. I couldn’t help the small groan that escaped me.
Damien’s eyes darkened at the sound. He slid gracefully off the love seat, positioning himself between my knees. Looking up at me with those intense blue eyes, he said, “I want to make you feel good, Shane. Will you let me?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. This was moving faster than I’d expected, but I didn’t want to stop. God, I’d wanted this—wanted him—for longer than I’d been willing to admit to myself.
He unbuttoned my pants with confident fingers, then slowly lowered the zipper. The sound seemed impossibly loud despite the constant hum of the jet engines. My heart hammered in my chest as he palmed me through my boxer briefs, his touch hot and possessive.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss against the cotton-covered outline of my erection.
I shuddered at the sensation.
Damien smiled at my response, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear, looking up at me for permission. I lifted my hips to help him slide both my pants and underwear down enough to free me.
The cool air of the cabin was a stark contrast to the heat of his gaze as he looked at me, fully exposed now. He wrapped his hand around my shaft, giving it a slow, experimental stroke.
“Perfect,” he whispered, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to the head.
The touch of his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through me. He took his time, licking a slow path from base to tip, his eyes never leaving mine. The intimacy of his gaze was almost as arousing as his touch.
When he finally took me into his mouth, I had to close my eyes against the overwhelming sensation. Warm, wet heat enveloped me as he slid down, taking me deeper with each bob of his head. His hand gripped the base of my shaft, working in rhythm with his mouth.
“Damien,” I gasped, one hand moving to the back of his head, not pushing, just resting there, connecting us.
He hummed in response, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure building inside me. He continued his attentions, alternating between long, slow strokes with his mouth and quick, teasing flicks of his tongue across the sensitive tip.
I watched him through half-lidded eyes, captivated by the sight of this powerful, successful man on his knees before me, looking utterly focused on my pleasure.
His free hand moved to cup and gently massage my balls, the added stimulation drawing a low moan from deep in my throat.
“That feels incredible,” I managed, my voice strained. “You’re so good at this.”
His eyes crinkled slightly at the compliment, and he redoubled his efforts, taking me deeper. The wet heat of his mouth combined with the skilled movements of his tongue had me approaching the edge embarrassingly quickly.
“I’m close,” I warned, my fingers tightening in his hair.
Rather than pulling away, Damien increased his pace, his hand and mouth working in perfect tandem. With his free hand, he reached down to undo his own pants, freeing himself. The sight of him stroking himself while pleasuring me was too much.
“Damien, I’m going to—” I couldn’t finish the sentence as pleasure crashed over me, my release hitting me with an intensity that left me gasping.
Damien stayed with me through it all, only pulling back when the last tremors had subsided. I opened my eyes to see him still kneeling between my legs, his hand working rapidly on himself. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips parted as his breathing quickened.
“Keep going. I want to see you come,” I urged, my voice thick with satisfaction.
He groaned at my words, his movements becoming more erratic. Seconds later, his body tensed, and he came with a quiet intensity that was more powerful than any loud display would have been. He maintained eye contact the entire time, allowing me to share in his exquisite release.
God help me, he looked even sexier when he came.
For a brief moment, we stayed still—me sprawled on the love seat, him kneeling between my legs, both of us catching our breath. Then I reached down, grasping his shoulders, and pulled him up to join me.
He came willingly, settling beside me in the small space. I turned to face him, cupping his face in my hands, and kissed him deeply. It was a different kind of kiss now—less urgent but no less passionate, filled with gratitude and a new intimacy.
When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against his, unwilling to move too far away. “That wasn’t exactly what I expected when I agreed to this trip,” I said with a small laugh.
Damien smiled, his hand coming up to stroke my cheek. “If it helps, I didn’t specifically plan this. Though I can’t say I’m disappointed with how things are turning out.”
“Definitely not disappointed,” I agreed, leaning in for another kiss, this one slower, more exploratory.
We stayed like that for a long time, trading kisses and soft touches, talking quietly about nothing and everything. At some point, we rearranged our clothing, though we remained pressed together on the love seat, my head eventually finding its way to rest on his shoulder.
“How much longer until we land?” I asked, stifling a yawn. The combination of the late night, the champagne, and our activities had left me pleasantly drowsy.
“About four more hours,” Damien replied, his fingers idly stroking through my hair. “You can sleep if you want. There’s a bedroom in the back, or you can stay right here.”
“Here is good,” I murmured, settling against the solid warmth of Damien’s body. “Unless you need to work or something.”
“Nothing that can’t wait.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Rest. Paris will be waiting when you wake up.”