Page 99 of Damon

The lights are already on in preparation for our arrival. Mrs. D would have come past this evening when she heard we were returning. After opening the door, we step inside, and Emma follows me in over the threshold. I turn to face her and cup her cheek in my palm.

“There’s something I want to show you,” I say. “Let me put Annie to bed, then I’ll come back to get you.”

“I’ll pour us some wine, if there is any?” she suggests.

“Mrs. D has been looking after the place,” I reply with a chuckle. “What do you think?”

“The fridge will be better stocked than a supermarket.” She strokes Annie’s cheek with a gentle finger. “Goodnight my little munchkin,” she says softly. “Ma-ma loves you.” Then she walks off in the direction of the kitchen.

I watch her disappear from view, enjoying the reality of having her back here with me in my home. Once she’s gone, I climb the stairs with a still sleeping Annie in my arms. After changing her, I place Annie down in her crib then return downstairs.

I find Emma in the kitchen with two glasses of wine poured. She walks toward me, offering one. I take it then lift the glass to my lips; she does the same, closing her eyes as the crisp taste hits her tongue. When we both lower our drinks, we stand, staring at each other, neither of us speaking.

“Come with me,” I say at last, taking her hand and leading her out of the room then upstairs. She follows me, not asking any questions, but I hear her breathing deepen slightly. She hesitates when we turn toward the master bedroom and not the spare at the top of the stairs. I stop outside the door, take her wine glass, and place both our remaining drinks on a side table in the hall.

“Damon…”

“Yes, Spitfire.”

“What is it you want to show me?”

I push open the master bedroom door instead of answering, her inside. We stand in the middle of the empty room with the floor covered in dust sheets. The wallpaper has been stripped and the walls prepared for painting. On the floor, waiting for Emma’s attention, are paint samples and fabric swatches.

“The lady of the house should stay in the master bedroom,” I say quietly. “The designer has some plans here.” I bend down and collect one of the fabric books—inside are mood boards created for the room. “I gave her some ideas, but ultimately this is your decision. I want you to create a haven for us in our home here.”

Emma stares at me; she looks shocked. Her fingers rise to her lips as a tear trickles down her cheek. She takes the fabric book from me then starts to flick through the designs and samples.

“What do you think?” I prompt, nervous she hasn’t said anything. She closes the book then places it back on the floor. Her body moves toward mine, and she reaches up, caressing my face in her hands. Her bright blue eyes hold mine fast, and I can’t move, waiting to hear what she has to say.

“I think it is time we christened our new bedroom,” she whispers sexily, then her lips lock onto my mouth. Greedy hands pull me toward her as her tongue dances with mine. I close my eyes, enjoying the moment when she takes control. Nimble fingers unbutton the white summer shirt I’m wearing then slip it from my shoulders. It falls to the floor, and her hands move to the waistband of my jeans. She unbuttons then lowers the zipper before sliding them down over my ass. I step out of them then remove my socks. I stand in front of her wearing only my boxers, my dick straining against the material.

She takes two steps back, her hungry eyes run up and down my body. Her arms cross over then grab the hem of the simple pink t-shirt she wears, and she lifts it over her head. She starts to walk in a circle around me, placing one finger on the skin at my waist and trailing it slowly as she moves. After one full rotation, she stops behind me and slides her hands around into my boxers. Warm lips touch the skin on my back as her fingers play with my cock, holding my length firm.

“Fuck, Spitfire. You know how to make me happy.” She giggles and lays her head against my spine, all while stroking my cock. Deft fingers drop to my balls as she continues. “Don’t make me too happy, you’ll lose out.”

“We can’t have that,” she says, releasing me. She returns to stand at my front and removes her own jeans and socks, so she is left wearing only her pink lace bra and thong. I step toward her and take her chin between my fingers, tilting her head upwards.

“My turn to be in charge,” I tell her, my free hand moving to sit on her crotch over her underwear. One finger slips behind the lace to play; as I slide it inside, her legs buckle slightly. I hook my finger forward, and she moans. Slowly, I pump her warm pussy, and she widens her stance. “Does my good girl want more?”

“Uh-huh,” she responds, clearly aroused.

“Take your bra off.” Her hands lift to the clip between her breasts as instructed to undo it, springing it open. Plump pink nipples sit hard on her firm, round breasts. I drop my lips to one, taking it between my teeth and nipping gently. She moans again. I repeat the action with the other. Her pussy sucks in my fingers, and the sound of warm, wet arousal fills my ears. “Lie down.” She blinks at me with wide blue eyes, which look slightly stunned. I remove my fingers and encourage her to the floor.

She lies back on the white dust sheets covering the carpets. I stand above her and slip my boxers down my legs. Her knees bend, and she spreads her legs wide. “You look fucking incredible,” I tell her. “We may not bother having a bed in here. Perhaps some sex furniture instead. I’ll never want to sleep anyway.”

“Suits me,” she murmurs, raising her hands above her head so her breasts rise with them. I drop to kneel between her legs, my cock hanging heavy, angry, and ready to take her. After placing a hand on either side of her head, I line myself up at her entrance and sink deep inside her. The overpowering groan that passes my lips is only a fraction of what I feel with her wrapped around me, us joined as we should be.

I surge forward again, my hips thrusting hard, slamming her into the floor. Her legs rise and wrap around my waist. She squeezes, and I take that as my cue to move harder, increasing my speed with each thrust.

Delicate hands hold my face, she keeps her eyes open watching me. “Look at me,” she whispers, and my eyes, which were focused on her breasts, rise to meet her gaze. She bites her lip. “Harder. Give me more.” My hips respond, pushing faster, and she whimpers beneath me.

“You’re so greedy, Spitfire, but oh so fucking good. My cock was made to pound this sweet pussy.” She throws her head back, another whine escaping, and this time she closes her eyes. “Look at me,” I mimic, and she smirks but doesn’t do as I say. I lean down then bite her left nipple hard. She squeals, and her eyes shoot to meet mine. “When I say look at me, I fucking mean it. Now, watch me as I come inside you, filling you with part of me.”

Our gazes lock, and I fuck her until I come hard and fast. Her pussy contracts, crushing my dick deliciously as she reaches her orgasm. We watch each other intently, both enjoying our high. I lift my hand to her face then run my thumb over her bottom lip.

“You are everything to me,” I whisper. “I love you, never doubt it.”

***