Chapter Seven: Are You a Virgin

Sophia Bennett

I froze the moment the words left his mouth. The heat that had been consuming me, the desperate ache between my legs, everything stuttered to a halt as Damien’s low, commanding voice cut through the haze.

“Are you a virgin?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge. My heart slammed against my ribs. I lay there beneath him, breasts still exposed from where he’d yanked my bra down, my panties somewhere on the floor, my body slick and trembling with need. He was watching me too closely, those dark eyes searching my face as if he could peel back every secret I’d ever kept.

He asked again, slower this time, his voice rough with restraint. “Are you a virgin, Sophia?”

“No,” I whispered, the single word barely audible. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I wasn’t—not technically—but the way he was looking at me made me feel exposed in a way that had nothing to do with being naked.

His gaze dropped between my thighs, where his fingers had just been buried deep inside me, stretching and stroking until I was dripping down his hand. “Then why are you so fucking tight?” The question was almost accusatory, laced with dark curiosity. “Is it because every man you’ve been with had a small dick?”

The bluntness of it should have shocked me. Instead, it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in my belly. I didn’t know how to answer. How could I explain that the only man I’d ever been with was Ethan, and he had never once made me feel like this? Never made my body clench and flutter around him the way it was doing now around Damien’s thick fingers. Ethan’s touches had always been rushed, selfish, leaving me frustrated and empty. This stranger—this dream version of raw masculinity—was already ruining me with nothing but his hands and that intense stare.

“Maybe…” I breathed, my voice shaky. “Maybe because Ethan never satisfied me like this before. Not even close.”

Something flickered in Damien’s eyes—satisfaction, hunger, a flash of possessiveness that made my pulse spike. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he shifted lower on the bed, broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart as he settled between them. His breath ghosted over my sensitive skin, hot and teasing. I barely had time to register what was happening before his mouth was on me.

The first slow lick of his tongue along my folds drew a sharp cry from my throat. My thighs shook instantly, legs trembling as if I’d been shocked. He licked me again, deeper this time, parting me with his tongue and dragging it up to circle my swollen clit. The sensation was overwhelming—wet, warm, and devastatingly skilled. My hips jerked, but his strong hands pinned them down, holding me open for him as he devoured me.

“Oh God…” I moaned, my fingers twisting into the sheets. Every stroke of his tongue sent sparks racing up my spine. He sucked gently on my clit, then flicked it rapidly, alternating rhythms that left me gasping and writhing. When he slid two fingers back inside me while his mouth worked my clit, my back arched clean off the bed. The stretch, the fullness, the relentless pleasure—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Stop,” I whispered, the word slipping out even as my body betrayed me. My thighs trembled harder around his shoulders, but I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to keep going forever, to drown me in this feeling until nothing else existed. “Please… don’t stop.”

He growled against me, the vibration sending fresh jolts of pleasure through my core. His tongue plunged deeper, fucking me with long, deliberate strokes while his fingers curled inside, hitting that perfect spot over and over. I could hear how wet I was—the slick, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers working me open. My juices coated his chin, his hand, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, it made him more ravenous.

I had never felt anything like this. Ethan had gone down on me a handful of times, always perfunctory, always quick to move on to his own pleasure. Damien was feasting on me like a man starved, like my pleasure was his sole focus. My legs shook uncontrollably now, muscles tight and quivering as the pressure built deep inside me. I was close—dangerously close—and he knew it.

He sucked my clit hard, fingers thrusting faster, and the orgasm crashed over me without warning. I cried out, thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through me. My vision blurred, body convulsing, walls pulsing around his fingers. He didn’t stop, drawing it out until I was whimpering, oversensitive and boneless.

Only then did he pull back, lips glistening, eyes dark with lust as he crawled up my body. I was still panting, chest heaving, when I felt the heavy weight of his cock settle against me. He rubbed the thick head along my slit, coating himself in my wetness, teasing my entrance and dragging up over my clit in slow, maddening circles.

I blinked up at him. He looked so devastatingly good, eyes heavy with lust, his chest moving with rough, shallow breaths. His cock was thick and hot against my clit, rubbing in slow circles teasing me. I gave him a wicked smile. “Make this dream even better, Daddy.”

He paused. Then he arched an eyebrow, lips parting. “Did you just say dream?”