Page 47 of Client Privilege
“There!” I cried out, arching beneath him. “Right there, please don’t stop.”
“Never,” he promised, maintaining the angle with precision even as his movements grew more urgent.
“Harder,” I urged, surprising myself with my boldness.
He complied, his hips snapping forward with more force, driving deeper into me.
The sound of skin against skin filled the room, along with our mingled moans and gasps.
The headboard began to knock rhythmically against the wall, the bed creaking beneath us—ordinary sounds that somehow made this extraordinary moment even more real.
His hand slipped between us, wrapping around my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear. I felt myself tightening around him, my body racing toward release.
“Damian,” I gasped, a warning and a plea. “I’m close, I’m so close.”
“Come for me, Alex,” he urged, his voice wrecked. “I want to feel you come around me.”
His thumb swiped over the sensitive head of my cock, gathering the moisture there and using it to ease his strokes. The slight twist of his wrist on each upstroke, combined with the relentless pressure against my prostate, pushed me toward the edge.
“Harder,” I demanded, digging my nails into his back, leaving marks I hoped would still be there tomorrow. “Fuck me harder.”
He growled—a primal sound I’d never imagined coming from his composed mouth—and drove into me with renewed force. The headboard slammed against the wall with each powerful thrust, the bed frame creaking beneath us.
“God, Alex,” he rasped against my ear, his breath hot and desperate. “You feel incredible. You’re everything.”
“Damian,” I gasped as he hit that perfect spot again and again. “I love you—fuck!—I love you.”
The words escaped without thought, torn from somewhere deep inside me as pleasure built to an unbearable peak. His rhythm faltered for just a heartbeat, his eyes locking with mine, dark and fierce.
“Say it again,” he demanded, driving deeper, harder.
“I love you,” I cried out, past caring how desperate I sounded. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“Alex,” he groaned, his voice raw and broken. “I love you too. Fuck, I’ve loved you for so long.”
His confession, growled against my skin as he moved within me, pushed me over the edge.
My orgasm tore through me with savage intensity, my body clenching around him as I came with a shout that might have been his name or just an animal sound of release.
My cock pulsed between us, painting both our bodies with hot streaks of come.
The sight of me coming undone beneath him, combined with my body gripping him like a vise, triggered his own climax. His hips jerked forward with one final, powerful thrust as he buried himself impossibly deep.
“Alex!” he shouted, his face transformed with pleasure as he emptied himself inside me. “Fuck—I love you—god!”
I felt every pulse, every throb as he filled me, marking me from the inside in the most primal way possible. The intensity of it sent aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive body.
He collapsed half on top of me, his weight delicious and grounding. We lay there gasping, sweat-slicked and trembling, neither of us able to form coherent thoughts. His heartbeat thundered against my chest, gradually slowing to a steadier rhythm.
When he finally withdrew, he did so with the same care he’d shown throughout. I winced slightly at the emptiness, at the unfamiliar sensation of his release trickling from me. He noticed immediately, concern replacing the languid satisfaction on his face.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his hand gentle on my cheek.
I shook my head, smiling at his worry. “No. Just… feeling empty now.”
Understanding softened his expression. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before rising from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
He returned with a warm washcloth, gently cleaning the evidence of our passion from my skin.
There was something profoundly intimate about this simple act of care—more intimate, perhaps, than the sex itself.
When he finished, he tossed the cloth toward the bathroom and rejoined me on the bed, pulling the covers over us both.
Afterwards, he held me close, his heartbeat strong and steady against my cheek. Buster, disturbed by our activities, had relocated to the armchair in the corner and now watched us with sleepy indifference.
“That was…” I began, but words failed me.
“Yes,” Damian agreed, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “It was.”
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. The quiet between us felt natural, unforced. I realized with a start that for the first time in years, I felt completely at peace.
“What are you thinking?” Damian asked softly.
I smiled against his chest. “That I could get used to this.”
His arms tightened around me. “I hope you do.”
“Damian?” I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him properly. “What happens now? With us, I mean.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his expression thoughtful. “Whatever we want to happen. There are no rules now, Alex. No case, no client-attorney relationship. Just us.”
“Just us,” I repeated, liking the sound of it. “I’ve never really had a normal relationship before. I’m not sure I know how.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted with a small smile. “My work has always come first. But I’d like to learn, with you.”
I settled back against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. “I’d like that too.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” he murmured, his voice growing drowsy. “One day at a time.”
As Damian drifted to sleep beside me, I remained awake, watching the moonlight play across the ceiling.
For so long, my future had been something to fear—filled with Marcus’s threats and the constant struggle to survive.
Now, for the first time, I looked toward tomorrow with something that felt remarkably like hope.
I turned to study Damian’s face, all the sharp lines of the courtroom warrior softened in sleep. Whatever came next, we would face it together. And that made all the difference.