Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,30

barely an audience inside his own mind. I know that feeling.

Without warning, he thrusts inside me, and I hiss out a breath of surprise, as the hand on my throat moves to stab the bed beside my head. He laughs harder, almost uncontrollably, as he begins fucking me into a near daze.

The pheromones are so potent that I’m immediately crying out, my arms going around his neck.

A hiss breaks free from him when I move too suddenly, and a growl bubbles in his chest until I lower my arms back to my sides. He stares me down, ensuring I’m submitting, as he thrusts deep inside me again.

I bite back the somewhat disturbing cry of pleasure.

I love every inch of Damien. Even this part of him seems to turn me on in ways that should be considered morally reprehensible. But I do love his monster. And even though I should fear it, I turn my neck to the side, exposing it.

He shoves his nose along my cheek, inhaling deeply, as I lie still, feeling the slightest tremor run up my spine when he makes that weird, muffled rattlesnake sound.

My breaths grow shallow and shaky when I feel his lips curve in a devilish grin, and my nerves scream from pleasure overload in the next instant, as it washes over me like bottled-up tidal waves.

I’m not sure when my lips became fused to his or why I thought it was safe to grab a handful of his hair, but he’s kissing me in a way that’s so devouring that I’m already lightheaded.

My veins burn, even as a gush of icy air licks up my heated skin, and my already overstimulated body trembles against even that small amount of extra, because I can’t handle one more sensation.

“Oh, momma’s gonna need some popcorn for this,” Anna, the voyeuristic nuisance, says from somewhere in the room.

Damien doesn’t acknowledge her existence, because I’m clearly all he’s concerned about in this moment.

Maybe this is why I love their monsters so much. I think their monsters loved me before they did.

His head reels back, even as his agile hips move like he’s on a mission to thoroughly wreck me in all the best ways a sexual deviant can wreck a woman, and the whites in his eyes die down.

There’s a clouded gaze there as he shoves his hand in my hair, biting down on his bottom lip like he’s both tortured and on a high at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips coming down on mine. “I can’t—”

I kiss him, shutting him up, since there’s nothing I want more than to go back to the almost orgasm I just lost. My body screams for it, craves it, and I feel as though I’m going to finally die if I don’t—

It’s painful bliss with a side of immediate exhaustion, because I swear my soul is detached. There’s no way I’m still in my body.

There’s such an explosion of euphoria that is wrung out of every inch of me, that I must be blown out of my body altogether. That’s the only reason I can’t feel him still moving.

I’m almost numb from the overwhelming sensations that have short-circuited—

As if I’m slammed back into my body, my senses all enlist again. It’s too much too soon, hurting way too good. Damien’s eyes are white again, and his monster is smiling too wide, as though he’s truly going to devour me to the fullest.

I cry out, unable to help myself, surely tearing up his shoulders when I almost fight for a breath of air that isn’t stolen by all the powerful pulses of pleasure.

I’m both drugged and dizzy, high off it and damn near loopy, as I drag him down and kiss him again, uncaring what he does to me.

So long as he never stops.

Never.

My head tips back, my lips moving to no sound, even as my body screams in sweet agony from the next hit.

“If I could die, again, this would be the monster I chose to kill me,” Anna states from somewhere overhead.

But she’s not even enough to distract me from the heady rush of all my favorite things happening all at once. From the mirrored images in my mind, to the way he’s manipulating my entire body, all while taking without mercy…

It’s…too…much.

Almost too much.

It’s so much more than the time we broke his curse. How can it be this much more when I can tell he’s more present than he was then?

There’s a burning on my wrist