On Pause 🔥

Savannah

I can’t think about what my parents might have thought while making the decisions they might have made.

I can’t live in a ~what if~ world.

I’ve never been a ponderous type of individual.

I am a ~right-here-and-now~ type of person and I don’t regret that.

Especially when it comes to matters I can’t do anything about or fix with the ingredients I own at this moment in time.

Right now, all I want to think about is Damon’s stark-naked body in all its finely chiseled glory.

Because…good lort.

Damon Heathcliff Henley is perfection, even though his middle name is just the worst.

It’s like God sculpted this dark angel with me in mind. Soul mates and all that goopy, cheesy, corny jazz.

I think more along the lines of twin flames.

~Sounds sexier, doesn’t it?~

My vagina hasn’t been complaining and it has made us friends again.

No more fighting what she wants to do versus what I should be doing.

Those battle plans went out the window when Damon jumped off the waterfall with me and sealed his fate at my side.

Damon’s tattooed sleeves cuff at his wrists, his pale hands peek from under the colorful artwork like pearl gloves.

His one of a kind etchings cap his shoulder blades to gallivant across his sturdy and defined chest in more delicious markings I will never get enough of.

Having this desire to glide my wet tongue down every dark line that paints my dark Angel is overwhelming to say the least.

Everything about Damon is like a wet dream come to life for me.

I guess it’s some sort of justice seeing how this man was the primary star in the deprived fantasies I have been concocting for the past few months.

And I have paid more than my share of dues, haven’t I?

The inky mess that tips his strong and sharpened jawline calls out to me.

Begging me to touch and run my fingers through it, to take it up at the roots and thread through the few inches just to feel how soft and silklike each strand truly is.

As if I haven’t already before.

Damon’s dark eyes mirror down at me, reflecting the battle-worn girl laid out on his bed, banging… I mean hanging…out in his bedroom.

The army green of my simple plain dress seems brighter against the starless sky I believe wholeheartedly Jesus himself must have plucked from the heavens to bless him with.

His full lips, ones I have tasted more than any others, yet I still crave them.

Their minty berry flavor and how warm they always are.

How soft.

How inviting.

The feeling of his mouth to mine like the hopeless addict that I am, I don’t mind jonesing for another hit the millisecond we break apart.

Not at all.

The swiftness of his brothers leaving us so we can start this birthday smash back up is enough to make me grateful for the Henley clan and their understanding.

Understanding of how I need this dick.

My pipes need a cleaning out after that fight.

Today has been grade A, USDA-approved shitty shit.

I didn’t expect it to be anything else, but the twist of events that made it this type of shit is actually appreciated by me and my broken mind.

I would take a cage fight and physical pain over memories I won’t soon forget or honestly want to.

~Is that fucked?~

To rather bleed openly than to cry in a closet in the safety of my own bedroom?

I think limbo is one of the worst places to be in any given situation.

And when grieving, you fall into limbo more than anyone ever talks about.

Damon’s dark eyebrows raise with his smirk deceitfully dancing across those lips he better start offering sooner rather than later.

“Like what you see, Shortcake?”

He makes his cock twitch, his one-eyed monster winking at me like the cocky bastards they both are.

His chest tightens, his muscles put on an erotic show for me like he ever needed to trick me into looking at him.

This man is a masterpiece in his own right. I would pay good money to never look at anything or anyone else for as long as I live.

“If I do? What are you going to do about it?”

My plate of food long forgotten about, I’m not hungry for earthly substances any more.

I’m starved for something much more angelic and throbbing.

Damon’s cock points out to me like a pussy detector. I can almost hear the dinging of it going off at finding the prize freshly stationed between my thighs.

“I’ve been nice, don’t make me be mean.”

His lips curled to this testing-my-willpower-like playboy grin.

His perfect white teeth split the space in his mouth with the lick of his tongue coming down to his bottom lip to steal more of my self-restraint.

“Are you capable of being mean to me, Angel?”

Short answer?

Yes, he the fuck is.

I’m not going to bring up the time I sensually made love to his knee and what followed after, with him throwing me on the floor of the bar in nothing but my panties and T-shirt.

What about our first kiss?

Him threatening Uncle Jonah and Percy at my group therapy, where I popped him and split his lip before he got me on the floor and dry humped me almost into lustful submission.

My own bottom lip pouts out while I flutter my lashes and give my chest a jiggle just to be a bit of a naughty tease.

Why not have some fun with this?

“Allow me to rephrase,” I cooed with a sultry stare that made his jaw clench.

I know how badly he wants me.

I can see the salty proof leaking out from the tip of his cock at just the dirty ideas floating through his mind.

Taking the spaghetti strap off my left shoulder in a slow drag down my arm, I tease the mother-loving fuck out of him.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Damon and what he does to me.

I would rather spend every irritating moment in his company than someone else’s.

But times like this?

I’m grateful for Reid Daniels.

I like being in control. I think parts of my messed-up brain have greatly enjoyed the time spent as his bossy goddess.

Reid could never make me feel the way Damon does, but he did help me.

Reid helped me back into my sex drive and helped boost that goddess-like confidence I naturally held all day every day.

For that, I’m utterly grateful for every orgasm I allowed Reid to coax out of me.

My arm becoming free, I give a wet kiss to the top of my shoulder before doing the same to my other side.

Damon’s cock twitches again and again.

Swaying in a heavy circle at the movements he shamelessly admires.

My dress already rolled up, untucked from my ass easily, the cotton material is dismounted to become a placeholder on the floor, with Damon’s discarded clothing to keep it company.

My hands working on the latch, I bite my lip when Damon’s knuckles fold under the pressure he sends to them, turning the pale pink tissue that covers them iridescent.

“Tell me, Angel, how would you ~be mean to me~?” The cups of my bra pop off from my chest. With a little tug, I let it fall to the floor to join its friends.

I lay back, my nipples already hard, and fondle my oversized tits.

The hardened bud plays between each of my curious fingers in front of a heavy, heaving Damon, who has taken his eager cock in his fists and started stroking himself.

One of his wide hands takes the reins at his freshly shaved hub and his other twists down his shaft to work his foreskin back and forth in slow motions.

I’m left hypnotized by the sight he has on display for my eyes only.

“Would you spank me, Angel? Or maybe bring me to the edge and not let me cum for you?”

Feeling the power surging through my veins with the help of my needy vagina, I allow one of my hands to drift between my thighs.

My good leg, unrestricted by surgery and free to bend at any angle I want, I bring to my chest and let fall at my side.

Taking the triangle of cotton that separates my utter nudity to pure lustful abandon to the side, I bless myself with a dip of my first two fingers into the pooling wetness there.

“No. You wouldn’t do that to me. You would want me to beg, wouldn’t you, ~Prince Damon~?”

My Angel eats up the pinkness I have bared to him, the dirty words I speak make the toned muscles on his shoulders and arms pop and lock like we’re back in the early 2000s.

“Beg for me, baby.” Damon’s voice comes out in a gravelly baritone that makes the textured walls of my pussy clench around my own fingers.

Seeing him pumping himself faster before he catches himself and stalks my naked frame from the side of the bed to the foot of it lets me know he noticed it too.

What his voice does to me.

What ~he~ does to me.

“Beg me to take you, beg for everything you want me to do to you, Savannah. I want to hear it.”

He finds his way onto the bed with me.

Walking on his knees, he crawls up the empty space to transform my control to desperation at the closeness he grants.

His manly thighs like a capital V between my own.

His cock is so close.

I want him.

I want him inside of me.

~Taking me.~

Why did he have to use that word!

Uh!

I try to fight it, the pull he so magically has over me by finger fucking myself faster in hopes I can cum before I beg him to stretch my pussy or any hole he wants like a needy mess I know I will turn into.

I can make it, can’t I?

~No.~

I cannot.

And you couldn’t either if you saw how insanely fine Damon is with lust in his eyes because of you, and how beautiful his cock is.

Also, it’s extremely talented.

“Beg for me, baby, tell me what you need.”

One hand of his goes on a stroll up my ankle, trotting higher and higher until he is balancing across my inner thigh and pantie line, looking as desperate as I am to tear these damn things off and let him dive into me.

“I need you, Damon.” My back bridges up, my chest bowing out to show the tightening between my hips of an upcoming orgasm.

“More, baby. Tell me more.”

He flicks his eyes to show me the demonic hunger lurking in his dark abyss.

“I need you to take me. To fill me with your cock, to paint me with your cum. I need you to fuck me, Damon. Please. Please. Oh—gah—I’m cumming.”

My nails bite at the skin on my breasts, my body shudders and I shake at the rage of my orgasm storming through me.

My head tossed back, I am the one left unashamed at how I fucked myself in front of him.

The sound of fabric ripping is unheard by my own ears.

The rush of cool air goes unnoticed as well.

Although the heat of Damon’s hellfire body doesn’t.

Even in my haze.

Neither does the position he pulls my good leg into before using his cock as a painter’s brush to dip into my liquid heat like it’s his favorite color.

“Goddamn it, Savannah, you’re so fucking sexy, I love watching you cum.”

The ridged grooves of his cock align to my entrance, and Damon thrusts into me.

His voice and how carefully he places his body over mine to make sure he doesn’t hurt my bad knee is the perfect concoction of naughty and nice.

Straddling the thigh of my bad leg and hiking my other up to let the bottom of my feet lay flat against his hard chest, he sinks into me like this is our only job.

Fucking each other’s brains out.

That’s the life.

The moan that echoes off the walls of his room is light, feminine, and sinfully delicious to anyone who could have heard it.

I read this snippet of some great man’s work ten lifetimes ago while in English class at the start of school this year.

~Pleasure can last seconds and or eternity.~

~Sometimes both.~

~Sounds pretty, doesn’t it?~

I get it.

Looking up at the man between my thighs who held his head back and let his onyx eyes close in euphoric bliss at the way my pussy clutches his cock in the way only my body will ever give him is the definition of that poetic sentence for me.

I live in this moment with him.

Relishing in what I make him feel from what he makes me feel.

It’s another rabbit hole, but this time it’s one I have no problem jumping down.

In and out of again and again.

And again.

Until the end of time.

The ache that was in my jaw from Grave’s sucker punch is now completely gone.

Damon’s hand coming to my ass and brushing the scar there as he pumps in and out of me sweeps today’s events under the biker-made rug.

The bed springs squeaking, the wooden metal frame groans in protest of our scandalous actions like the furniture knows we are depraved beings with desires of animalistic proportions.

“I love this.”

Damon’s mouth takes a bite out of my calf.

Laying a sweet kiss to the dull sting, I moan louder, panting his name and begging for him to give me more.

It’s always enough, but I know he’s holding back to take it easy on my hurt knee.

I’m already so close to coming again.

The sound of our sexes meeting and how our bodies clack together is only sending me higher.

Sweat licks at our bodies like an imaginary third joining us.

My tits roll in a circle with every slap of his hips into mine. I can feel my ass cheeks ripple in a sex-crazed wave caused by the man-made hurricane Damon beckons from my pussy at the drop of a hat.

I can feel his hard cock so deep inside me.

I want to tell him how I love it too.

How I love him.

How I never want him anywhere else but inside my body, whether it’s my mouth, my pussy, or my ass.

He can have it all as long as I have his cock inside of me.

“Seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one. That I’ll be the only one, ever.”

Damon’s possessiveness makes me skyrocket higher.

My pussy clenches around his girth even with how thin he must have me spread. I know he feels it from the way he growls and his top lip sneers back to show his canines like a wild animal.

“Fuck baby, your pussy is going to gnaw my cock off. You’re so goddamn tight,” he says through a locked jaw.

His hands gripping my hip so hard I can feel where his fingers lay on the bone even with my fat ass and meaty hips.

“Angel…,” is all I make out even at a level lower than a whisper, twisted with a moaning gasp that is followed with me creaming all around Damon's cock in a heart-stopping orgasm that sucks the air from my lungs and puts my legs on vibrate.

A roar is what breaks through my ear-popping, firework-behind-the-eyelids, tantric, full-body orgasm that this Angel blesses me with straight from the golden gates of heaven itself.

Or maybe hell?

I can’t think about such complexities right now, my brain has been turned to mush.