He dropped her onto the mattress. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that she bounced once and pushed up on her elbows, hair falling messy around her face. She looked at him, lips parted, watching. He yanked his shirt open the rest of the way, buttons popping, and let it fall to the floor. Then he was over her. His mouth found hers again, slower now, deliberate. He took his time, tongue tracing her lower lip before slipping inside, tasting her like he had all night. One hand slid under the hem of her shirt, his palm flat against her stomach, feeling the way her muscles jumped at the contact. He dragged the fabric up inch by inch, knuckles brushing her ribs, until he pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. His eyes moved over her bare skin, dark and hungry, before he lowered his head and kissed down her throat, slow open-mouthed presses that left faint marks. He sucked at the spot just below her ear until she arched, a soft whimper escaping her. “Damian i need you to—” “Not rig
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