Thanksgiving Sins- 2

CHAPTER 2

MELISSA

**

I slammed the door to the guest room, locked it, and dropped face-first onto the bed.

I couldn’t breathe.

He kissed me.

Damian fucking kissed me.

My heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

I reached for the vodka bottle I’d snuck into my bag. Unscrewed the cap. Took a long sip. No chaser.

Then I FaceTimed the only person who’d understand.

“Bitch!”

The screen lit up with Jasmine’s face, already mid-laugh. “Finally. I thought you died in that haunted ass house.”

“You’re not gonna believe what just happened,” I whispered, still breathless.

She squinted. “Wait… what’s with your face?”

“He kissed me.”

She blinked. “Who?”

I gave her a look.

Her jaw dropped. “No.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Melissa Marie Evans—did you tongue kiss your stepdad?!”

“Soon to be ex stepdad,” I corrected.

She burst out laughing. “You are so unwell. I love it.”

“I didn’t start it!” I said, taking another sip of vodka. “He kissed me first.”

“Did you shove your tits in his face before or after?”

“Shut up.”

She smirked. “So what now?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “He freaked out. Said it was a mistake and ran back inside.”

“Baby, that man has wanted to fuck you for years. You don’t just kiss your stepdaughter and then call it a mistake like it’s spilled milk.”

I stared at the ceiling. “He told me I looked nice. When I walked in.”

“Duh. You’re hot.”

I looked back at the screen. “Do I… go to him?”

She stared at me. “Is that even a question?”

I bit my lip.

“Melissa. Go. Sit on his face. Do it for the bitches who never got to ride a DILF.”

I started laughing. “You’re insane.”

“I’m dead serious,” she said. “Finish your vodka. Then go get what’s yours.”

I looked at the bottle.

Then at myself in the mirror.

Hair still messy. Hoodie oversized. No makeup.

Didn’t matter.

I still looked hot.

And Damian?

He wanted me.

I was going to prove it.

It was past midnight.

I padded down the hallway on bare feet, heart pounding.

Mom had mentioned—very loudly—that she and Damian hadn’t shared a bed in over a year.

Something about his snoring. Whatever.

I stopped outside his door.

Deep breath.

Then I turned the knob.

Quietly stepped inside.

The room smelled like him. Clean and warm. Dark cologne.

He was lying shirtless on the bed, sheets half covering his hips.

God.

I crossed the room, climbed up onto the bed, and straddled him.

He shifted under me. “What the—?”

I kissed him before he could finish.

His hand caught my wrist.

“Melissa—what are you doing?” he rasped.

“Kissing you,” I whispered.

He opened his eyes, groggy and wrecked. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I swear. I had a little vodka. That’s it.”

He groaned. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I kissed him again. Softer this time.

He didn’t move.

“Melissa…”

“Tell me to stop,” I whispered, grinding against him.

He inhaled sharply.

I felt him harden under me.

“I should,” he said.

“But you won’t.”

He cursed under his breath.

He gripped my hips. “You’re making it really hard to be the responsible one.”

“Then stop trying.”

I licked at his throat, sucked softly right under his ear.

“Melissa—fuck,” he hissed.

I smiled against his skin, started rocking again.

And that was it.

He flipped us fast, body hovering over mine.

“You want this?” he growled.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you, Damian,” I whispered. “I want your mouth. I want your hands. I want you.”

He growled.

“Fuck it.”

He slid down my body, yanking off my sleep shorts and panties in one move.

“Pretty little pussy,” he muttered, eyes locked on me.

I gasped as he spread my thighs.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured. “But I’m too fucking weak.”

Then his tongue met my clit.

And I shattered.

“Damian—oh my God—”

He groaned into me, licking deep, slow, messy.

Tongue flat, then teasing.

Circles and flicks and pressure right where I needed.

His hands pinned my thighs wide open. His stubble scratched softly against my skin.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

“You taste so sweet,” he moaned, pulling back just to stare. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”

“Please—don’t stop—”

“Say it again.”

“Don’t stop. Please—Damian—keep going—”

He dove back in, sucking on my clit, tongue dipping inside me, and I swear to God—I saw stars.

I was shaking. Moaning. Arching off the bed.

“Let go,” he said. “Give it to me.”

One more flick of his tongue—

I came hard.

Crying out. Clenching.

He groaned like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, licking every drop.

I was trembling when he came back up.

His mouth was wet. His eyes dark.

He kissed me hard, let me taste myself on his tongue.