Page 177 of Terms of Exposure
"Again," Damien growled, his hand moving faster on his shaft. "Come again."
I did.
Couldn't stop.
My vision blurring white.
He stroked himself, abs clenched.
"Again," he demanded, voice breaking. "One more. Give me one more."
Another scream tore from me.
I watched through blurred vision as his whole body went rigid—watched his mouth drop open in a silent cry—watched the first pulse of his release spill over his fist, painting his stomach, his chest.
"Emma—" My name a vow. A curse. "Fuck—Emma—"
He stroked himself through it, milking every drop, his gaze never leaving mine even as his body shook apart.
And I hung there, suspended between heaven and earth, watching the man I loved come undone.
Because of me.
For me.
With me.
I thought it was over.
I was wrong.
He stood—still hard—and slid himself into my mouth.
"Clean it," he demanded.
I circled my tongue, salt andhimcoating my lips. A groan tore from him as I watched through my lashes.
"You're such a fucking good—"
His body shuddered.
"Girl."
I sucked harder.
He moved then, hands fisting in my hair.
Damien Holt fucked my mouth, forcing his cum down my throat.
His body shook,composure cracking.
He pulled away with a rough breath.
"No… no." He muttered it almost to himself. "Not yet."
He moved again—not the slow, measured steps of a man coming down, but the urgent, heavy footfalls of a man who wasn't finished.
Who wasn't even close to finished.
