He bent his head, salivating and burning to ashes, and used his thumbs to part her lips open. He tasted her. His tongue lapped the outside of her slit, up to roll over the nub of her clit. He dragged it down to shove it into her sheath.
She pumped her hips to his face with a soft cry, her eyes glazed, her teeth biting her lower lip. Damien added one finger and sucked her clitoris into his mouth, his finger pushing into her body. The semen leaked freely into his pants, his hips wanting to pump, to fill her up with every last drop in him.
She exploded with a soft cry, twisting and crying out to his plunging tongue. He pushed his fingers and rubbed them against her G spot as she was coming, watching her mouth part, her entire body taken by tremors.
He throbbed to taste her, to feel her, to fuck her. He felt drugged, drunk, desperate, so without even thinking if it was a good idea, he leaned over and closed his lips over hers, kissing her as she orgasmed.
If possible, it seemed to trigger a fresh new cataclysm. She stiffened beneath him and convulsed with a small cry that tumbled into his mouth as he wrapped his lips around her tongue and sucked her taste inside him.
She fell limp seconds later, breathless, and Damien unhooked the binds from the bed, then unwound her wrists.
She was lax in his arms and not moving, and he couldn’t help it. His hormones were wild, testosterone pumping through his veins, he tipped her face back up to his and devoured her mouth again, fucking her with his tongue just as he wanted to fuck her with his cock.
Sydney shuddered and almost moaned in protest when he pulled his mouth free, her lips raw and achy as he set his nose against hers. She couldn’t move, was unable to unclasp her hands from his nape, her body hot and sore and pleasured in a way it had never been pleasured before. Now she couldn’t make her body listen to her brain. It was smeared to him, her chest flat to his chest, her skin tingling where his hands rested on her hips. Wow.
He had incredible hands. And his tongue.
She felt hot at the memory, her body going feverish again. Lust was like being possessed by a different person, absorbed by her body, the scorching sensations his touch made her feel.
His hands were still on the small of her back, but under her ear right, his heart thundered.
He was seething with energy; she could feel it vibrate in him. It made her incredibly restless and her sex organs responded to him.
“Damien,” she said, not knowing why she was whispering in her own room, but the silence had dominated for a while, and her throat felt raspy, “would you mind if I kiss you again before you leave?”
She met his eyes, and they were roiling black tornados, almost frightening in their intensity. But he squared his jaw and nodded his head, so she sat up.
“I want to practice so I don’t feel so awkward when I kiss him,” she explained.
“Come here.” His sandpaper voice scraped across her skin as one big hand cupped the back of her head and pulled her to his mouth. Fire. Moisture. Sensations rushed through her when their lips locked, and when his tongue thrust into her mouth, heated and commanding, she jerked back.
“No, no, you can’t respond so fast. I need to do the kissing. Court would never respond so fast, he’ll probably be shocked.”
His lips clenched in anger. “Court’s a fucking idiot.”
“Just let me do it and don’t do anything in the beginning, please.”
He said a bad word but closed his eyes and rested back against the headboard. Sydney studied his mouth. It glistened wet and it was beautiful, thicker than Court’s, larger, plumper. Her eyes drifted shut as she braced her hands on his rock-like chest and brushed her lips across his.
A tingle burned in the pit of her stomach when he did nothing, his lips motionless beneath her lips. She grazed them a little faster, side to side, his flesh firm, but soft and slick from their previous kisses.
His scent assailed her, making her feel drunk as she tantalized herself by gliding her lips across his, then up and down. She added her teeth and nibbled on his plump lower lip, hearing his breathing escalate, expecting him to take control soon, but he didn’t.
Her sex creamed as she suckled his lower lip. It tasted good. Right. Fleshy. She eased her tongue past the seam and tasted him, teasing him, hoping his tongue would follow when she withdrew. It didn’t. Her own breathing was wild now as she shifted closer to kiss him at a better angle. She moved her lips, sliding her fingers into his hair, trying teeth again. His tongue slipped into her mouth. Hot. Thirsty.
He pulled her up to straddle him and they started kissing for real. A burst of sensations exploding in her middle when he made a deep, unexpected sound of arousal. He dragged her closer, front and center on his lap, taking charge of the kiss. The feel of his erection rubbing against the v between her legs made a tremor rush along her spine.
“Damien,” she gasped, shuddering in confusion, “I’m wet again and this time it hurts.”
“Shhh.” He pulled her head back to his mouth and started grinding his hips against hers, rocking, every circling jab of his hips sending the bulge between his legs to rub against the sensitive little ball of her clit. The friction was amazing. She continued melting under his mouth as he grabbed her buttocks, squeezing as he pinned her pelvis down to his, pumping hard into her.
The kiss never broke, but the intensity of this kind of copulating, with clothes, overwhelmed her. Red-hot lust shot through her veins, and she’d never imagined it could feel so erotic. Sydney’s skin screamed to feel more of him. Her nipples brushed his bare chest and when she felt his piercings, her pussy contracted. It rippled in anxiety of the nearness of his erection, and the frustration of not feeling it inside her only made her more aroused.
Damien knew what he was doing to her, she knew, and she wanted him to do more, more, more. She gasped please into his mouth between the heated tangles of their tongues, her need somehow seeming to be transmitted to him in that sound alone.
He growled and reached between her legs, sliding a finger inside her, a thumb pressing into the sensitive pearl above her entrance. He caressed her clitoris just so, just so, until her every muscle contracted for release. She climaxed with a sound in his mouth, shuddering and shuddering, his finger taking care of business in the most exquisite way.
She panted for long moments after, clinging to him. “Oh. My.” She rolled over and licked her lips, then looked at him, his arm slung over part of his face, breaths jerking.
He made her want him again, he looked so incredibly sexy in her frilly white king-sized bed. Her nipples beaded in want of his fingertips. “Is it normal to want to have sex several times in a row?”
He didn’t answer.
“Damien?”
He stuck out an open hand. “Just give me a second.”
She flushed at his rough, coarse voice. “Oh.” He was breathing super-fast and she touched his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
He sat up on the edge of the bed, giving her his back, for about a minute. His eyes were wild as he stood. “Are we done yet?”
She blinked, her glow quickly fading. “Of course. Well, I guess I can’t keep you all night, now can I?”
He loosened the bind from the headboard, then rammed it into his pocket while he rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand.
“Before you go, tell me if there is a way a man cannot deny a woman?” Sydney asked.
She’d made a fool of herself once, with him, actually, and was so afraid it would happen again with Court. She had to make sure she had all the right moves. She was certain she’d nailed the kiss down.
Damien braced his legs apart and pinched his nose, not looking at her. “Depends. All men are different.”
“True. Okay, so for you. What’s a definite turn on to you?”
He twisted his neck. “I don’t know, Sydney. I just don’t know anymore.”
“Obviously you don’t like redheads, but, thanks for saying no that day, by the way.” She smirked.
“Yeah, I don’t.??
? He crossed the room to the door. “Goodbye, Sydney.”
Sydney lay in bed, feeling deliciously feminine, but also confused. The way he’d kissed her had been passionate. Like he’d thrown himself entirely into that kiss. She’d also seen that if she licked his lips for a good long while, he had no choice but to respond.
So here she was, trying to plan what she’d learned from him to use on Court tomorrow, when she saw him in the gallery tomorrow.
She touched her lips, tasting him on her mouth, and she felt herself grow wet again, and for a moment, she wanted to run after him and beg him to do it all over again.
But he’d been grumpy in the end. Why? Well because he hadn’t had as much fun as she had, of course. He didn’t want her, he hadn’t even climaxed. He’d done it because she’d paid 100k for this. Her stomach sunk at the thought. What would it feel like to watch him lose it? To take her, completely? What would it feel like to be wanted by a man like him?
What would it feel like to do this with Court tomorrow?
five
Sydney smiled inside the gallery’s private office, seeing Court, his adoringly innocent smile and harmless baby blue eyes, looking at her as he came from his desk, which was identical to hers and sat right across his. As she hung up her coat and purse, he held out a cup of her favorite Starbucks coffee. “How was the auction last night? What did you get?” he asked.
A man! she thought giddily. She instead answered, “A black…er, diamond.” Because, wasn’t that what the press had called Damien on numerous occasions?
“Oh? For the gallery? Or your personal collection?”
“My personal collection,” she said sheepishly, taking her Starbucks with a beaming smile. Since the accidental death of her parents, Sydney had relied on Court heavily. He was like her brother, her friend, her confident, her massage therapist who knew exactly where to press in her hands and feet, Court Reynolds was pure wonderfulness, all in a good boy package that would never, ever, knowingly hurt her.
He went back to his desk and was restlessly tapping his foot as he answered some emails. Sydney surveyed his lips as she took a sip of her Frapuccino mocha.
It felt different when she was in the same room as Damien. Damien made her nervous. While Court made her feel at ease. She much preferred the latter.
And yet today, she’d woken up a bit agitated. Last night she kept wondering who else Damien Knight had introduced to the pleasures of sex. Why was this important to know? That Damien had done this with tons of women? That he’d had a dozen women on his travels? It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. She should be grateful for his sexcapades, otherwise, he would be able to teach her nil. He’d rejected her. Stomped on her heart. So really, who cares?
She still had nightmares about standing at his doorstep, pouring her heart out to him. He couldn’t have been anymore clearer with his answer than if he’d just poleaxed her on the chest with a paddle, then finished her off with a kick or two.
At that time, there had been a big mess about his name in the press. Upon his mother’s death, rumor of an affair with some drug dealer leaked, and Damien’s father had a paternity test. The shit hit the fan when it was proved that Damien was not his son, and he was not only disowned, but cast away from the family. He’d left home with nothing, a nomad carrying only the knowledge of jewelry he’d learned from his family.
He’d been down in the mines, with an eye and nose for diamonds that quickly made him a leader, then an owner of the same mines that supplied jewels to the cutters who supplied to Knight’s. Years later, his father begged Damien to take his name back. The fact that Damien, such a proud, angry man, had accepted, only confirmed what Sydney had known all along.
He had not been as immune to being rejected by the man who’d raised him as a father as she’d known. But even taking his name, Damien still became the dark one to the press. Their black swan became the black diamond, and although they feared and challenged him, a lot of people also revered him.
He was his own man, a survivor of a sad family war which had served no purpose but to destroy everyone involved.
Why Sydney cared that Damien had been hurting at the time, recently disowned, was beyond her. Because he’d looked mighty fine that day when he opened the door to send her back, whimpering and crying.
“Court,” she said then, pulling herself out of her own dark thoughts. He had glanced up at her, his eyes unable to hold hers for long, only for a couple of seconds at the time.
Her heart squeezed in sympathy and tender love for him. She set the coffee aside and came over, propping her hip on his desk and sliding her hand into his hair.
She wanted him to turn on the flames inside her, like Damien had. The feelings she’d experienced last night had been so powerful, she felt like a junkie needing a fix, urgently craving it.
She bent her head, whispering, “I love you,” and started to slowly, slowly, kiss him like she had kissed Damien only hours before, when she’d been practicing…
With over a hundred million dollars of rough diamonds spread out before him, a jeweler’s loupe in one hand, and the sketches of a rough diamond in the other, Damien stared down at the eighty carat fancy pink diamond that took up most of the space, and thought about Sydney Morgan.
“Sir?”
He shook his head. Fancy pink diamond. Right.
Back to business.
“Should we proceed with the plans?”
Sydney Morgan asking to please kiss him and practice…licking his nipples…moaning beneath him…
“Or do we request a new blueprint from the master cutter?”
Shit.
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself back to the diamond. It was spectacular. Fancy Intense Pink, in the rough. If they managed to preserve the color when cutting it, the diamond would be priceless. Priceless. It was a rarity in the world, so perfect it made you want to not cut into it. It was everything that money could not buy. It was Sydney Morgan to him.
As it stood, the project mentioned cutting it to circle around the major inclusions, so that the rough could produce a larger forty carat polished oval, a twenty-four carat round, and several smaller ones in varied shapes, with a value that could exceed two hundred million dollars—or go up to more, if the fancy intense pink tone was managed to be preserved. However, fancy diamonds were unpredictable. If you cut it at a certain angle it didn’t like, you could end up losing not only some of the color—but all of it. Turning a priceless fancy colored diamond into a white one. The stone’s value, if this tragedy happened? Dropped so much, you’d want to shoot yourself.
The decision had to be made whether to polish the stone and go for everything, or sell the stone as rough at perhaps eighty million.
Sydney Morgan saying touch me…
Ahh, hell.
“Let’s do it. Let’s start getting the big one out first—then we’ll see. Only Lupe, the master cutter, touches this. Got that? We need exact precision or we’re screwed.”
“Yes, sir. Also, the models down at the photoshoot are inquiring if you will be there?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if he was in the mood to go down and greet the models, maybe select a few to take to bed and screw a little red head out of his brain. He’d tried that yesterday—not only had he been unable to get it on with his girls, but he’d only ended up more frustrated than when he’d begun. And he’d begun supremely frustrated. “I don’t think so,” he grumbled.
He should. He really should. But his mind kept returning to Sydney Morgan and her ugly brown hair, and her bony little body, making him hot as hell. What was going on there?
He remembered her at fifteen. A baby. Begging to be his baby.
She’d stood at his doorstep, shocking him to the core. He only saw her a gatherings, he’d never even known she knew where he lived.
“You’re leaving town, Damien?” she’d asked in a tear-filled voice. “Why?” she’d demanded, not even waiting for his reply.
?
??To work, Sydney. I want to be at the mines.” To get out of San Francisco and out of my father’s hair. Did you know I’m no longer a Knight as of yesterday? Why are you looking at me like I’m the big shit when I’m nothing?
“Damien…” She clutched his hand then and pressed it to her heart, which was beating like a thoroughbred racing to the finish. “Make love to me before you leave.”
“What? Sydney, have you lost your senses?”
“Please. I love you.”
“Find a guy your own age, Jesus!”
“I don’t want anyone but you!” she cried.
“You’re fifteen!” He scowled, tempted to bury all of his frustration inside her, taste from her pretty mouth. “Go the hell home, Sydney. I don’t like you and I certainly don’t want to fuck you and I sure as hell never will.”
It had crushed him to see her face when he’d told her to go, the things he’d had to tell her to make her go. But she’d been a junior, and Damien had already been out of college. He’d had another woman in the bedroom waiting for him, and he’d never, in his life, expected that troublemaking, delicious little redhead at his door, making his boner even harder.
Rejecting her that night? Hell, that was about the only honorable thing he’d ever done in his life.
He sat back in his desk and scraped his hands down his face. Why should he care if she wanted to give some nerd her virginity? No. He didn’t care at all. Not one bit. He was the last man on earth to judge a virgin, in the first place, plus the last one to consider deflowering one. Scowling, he pulled off the Band-Aid from the blood test he’d stopped by to take this morning. Suddenly he’d needed to know that he was clean as a fucking whistle. Not because he was going to fuck an innocent at all. He’d given her his word not to fuck her, and he wouldn’t. But he still had to know he was…clean.
He didn’t feel clean enough for her. He probably never would.
Now he had to put her behind. She was too sweet to mesh into his partying lifestyle, the glamour of being a Knight. Movie stars, particularly, doted on him. They wanted dibs on the biggest rocks, and they wanted to be dressed by them for the Oscars. Damien was happy to supply, was happy to go to their parties, fuck everyone, have a good time, smoke some pot.