The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,64

to sound like a clingy girlfriend, but I can’t help it. I miss him when he’s gone. Hell, I miss him even when he’s right in front of me, which is crazy. How can I yearn for someone while I’m with them?

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” His sentence cuts off with a groan when his hands wander and discover my bare ass.

“My pretty little head?” I deadpan, equal parts amused and insulted.

Smirking, he lifts a shoulder in an innocent gesture. “What? It is pretty.”

“I’m also kind of a badass witch now.”

“You’re that and more.” Hooking an arm around my waist, he flips us so I’ve taken his place on the bed and he’s hovering over me. “Owner of my body. Ruler of my mind. Commander of my soul, and queen of my heart.”

“Do you love me?”

My abrupt question seems to catch him off-guard. “Of course I do. How could you think otherwise?”

“You just haven’t said it, and I wouldn’t blame you for needing more time. We don’t know each other very well yet.”

“Whitley.” He frames my face with his hands. “You’re the other half of my soul. I’ve loved you for thousands of years. I’ve waited for you. Held out for you. Wished every wish for you. You have my love and devotion until the day I die. I. Love. You.”

Closing my eyes, I revel in his words. They seep into my soul, almost satisfying my never-ending hunger for him. But it’s not enough. There’s a physical need throbbing inside me.

I wrap my fingers around the back of his neck while spreading my legs. “Show me how much you love me.”

Groaning, he practically collapses, crushing me with his weight. When his lips connect with mine, our teeth clack and our tongues duel.

“Damon,” I whisper between kisses. “Please. Need more. Please, please.”

“Oh, baby. I love it when you beg.”

With trembling hands, Damon grapples with the drawstring of his pants. He pushes the waistband down, just enough for his erection to spring free.

And holy mother of all things.

It’s thick and long and perfect. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and my mouth waters. Wrapping my fingers around his girth, I squeeze lightly, enjoying the guttural sound he makes. I swipe my thumb over his slit, smearing the wetness and collecting a drop for my own taste test.

A moan of satisfaction rises in my throat when I lick it. It’s a pleasant combination of salty and sweet.

When Damon realizes what I’ve done, he growls as his eyes go black. It’s almost scary the way his pupils expand until only a hint of green is left.

But I know I’m safe with him, and he proves it when he rasps, “Do I need to warm you up a little?”

“If I get any hotter, I’m going to explode. Here.” Taking his hand, I bring it to my soaked center. “Feel for yourself.”

Grunting, he rubs up and down, biting his lip as his face pinches with concentration.

He’s looking at me. This is how he sees—by touch.

And even though it’s torture, I let him. With teasing caresses, he circles my opening. Traces every bit of flesh. Pays attention to each hitch of breath, every whimper.

When he gets to my clit, I gasp. He focuses on it, rubbing the throbbing area until I’m shaking.

My back arches when he dips two fingers into me, but he doesn’t stay there long. Heat rushes to my face when he brings his hand up to his mouth to taste me.

With an expression of pure bliss, he sucks his fingers until he’s licked them clean.

I can’t breathe. I’ve never seen anything sexier, and the bond is straight up pissed that we’re not having sex yet. It’s rebelling. My soul is literally throwing a tantrum, and it feels like heartburn, headaches, and itchy skin.

Damon must feel it, too, because he lets out a pained noise.

Holding himself up with one arm, he grabs his cock and guides the tip to my entrance.

This is it. Finally.

I put my hands over my head, surrendering my body to my one and only. “We’re almost past the point of no return.”

“Oh, dream girl.” He chuckles darkly. “We passed that point the moment we met.”

He slowly pushes forward, and we moan when pleasure echoes between us.

I can feel what Damon feels, and it’s creating a cycle of ecstasy, both of us feeding into each other.

And we’ve barely gotten started.

“I can’t be gentle,” Damon says, trembling. “I’m sorry.”

A quiver racks his body, and his self-control snaps.