My Immortal (Seven Deadly Sins #1)(49)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"We are having sex, or we were a minute ago."

Marley twisted her fingers in his hair and tugged a little to emphasize her frustration, bumping his thigh with her knee. "No, that was me sitting here stark naked, while you are totally clothed and giving me pleasure."

"I don’t have a shirt on." He brushed the edge of the T-shirt she was sitting on as he hunched down between her legs.

"That doesn’t count."

"Why are we talking about this?" He tried to slide his thumb down between her thighs, over her clitoris, intending to push in, take his way again.

Marley shifted away. "No."

"No?" His voice took on an edge of annoyance, of authority. "I say yes. Let me in, Marley."

"Okay," she agreed, heart pounding, an idea forming in her head. Let him think he was in charge, but she was going to give back to him whether he liked it or not. She was being greedy for once, that was true—that was what the night was all about, and she had decided she wanted to pleasure him like he was her. "Sit on the other bench and I’ll stand in front of you. This position is too awkward for you."

He sucked in his breath. "Very good suggestion, ma cherie. Just watch your balance when you stand."

When Damien was seated on the other bench, she carefully stood and closed the distance between them. His mouth was almost level with her pelvis and he wasted no time in wrapping his arm around her waist, drawing her flush against him, and kissing her, dusting light feathery touches all around her pubis, high, low, random presses of heat against her overstimulated body.

It was distracting, and she allowed herself a moment of indulgence while his tongue traipsed over her swollen flesh. It felt so damn good, her standing position bringing her closer, tighter to him, his hands on her backside, the carnality and intimacy appealing. Her low moan scattered out over the water, hands digging briefly into his thick hair, and she burst with a quick tight orgasm. Wanting more, wanting him, she didn’t even let him finish stroking her through the last tremors, before she quickly dropped down to her knees, taking him by surprise.

"Where are you going?" Damien tried to pull her back up, but Marley resisted, reaching for his pants. "You didn’t even finish… I was only getting started with you," he said.

Ignoring that, she undid his button, his zipper, while he made a growling sound low in his throat.

"Marley. Don’t try it."

"I don’t mean what I suggested before. Don’t worry about the condom. I just want to…" She pulled him out of his jeans and closed her eyes at the feeling of all that rock solid heat. "I just want to taste you a little."

"No." He hooked his hand under chin and tilted her head upward. She couldn’t really read his expression in the dark, but he shook his head firmly. "No, you don’t have to do that."

"I want to." Marley was already stroking him, the fascinating feeling of him growing even harder under her touch eradicating the discomfort of kneeling in the boat.

"No." Now he was holding her forehead, preventing her from bending over, his other hand working its way over her breast, trying to distract her attention away from him.

Marley got angry. "Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do." If he could give it, he could take it. This was not going to be charity orgasms for Marley. This was both of them doing and sharing together.

Yanking away from his hold, she shifted and slid her mouth over him before he could stop her again, taking him deep. Damien moaned, trying to pull back, his voice rough and tortured. "Marley… I don’t let women… not since…"

His thighs were tense around her shoulders, his stomach muscles clenched, his breathing tight and quick.

Even without the rest of the sentence, she thought she understood what he was saying. That he hadn’t let a women do this since his wife had died. That it was an intimate act he had denied himself. That she could give him that, be the first in a long time, aroused her and renewed her determination.

"You need to stop," he said, but he had stopped fighting, was no longer shoving at her, attempting to pull away.

As she moved slowly up and down the length of him, his fingers wrapped around and around in her hair, like he was going to jerk her head right off him with the slightest provocation. But she wasn’t going to stop, was intending to keep on going, for him, for her, for the freedom they both needed to reach. Marley slid back, flicked her tongue over the tip of him, tasting his hot, salty flesh.

"Marley." It was a warning, his fingers tugging harder.

He was going to dig in, find his willpower, set her away. She could sense it, so she took him deep, sucking in the hollows of her cheeks and opening her throat, gripping his jeans, rocking him in and out. It had been a long time since she’d done this, longer than she wanted to reflect on, and in the past, she’d always felt that o**l s*x obligation. He did her, she had to reciprocate, it was only polite and the right thing to do, but honestly, the quicker the better. It was never awful, per se, but she’d never taken any personal pleasure from it.

This was different, a whole new experience. When Damien tensed, when his breath came out in strangled little grunts, when his fingers yanked violently in her hair, she felt pride in his pleasure, felt his reaction drive her own, spurring her on, making her more aggressive, eager, aroused, driving her motions more frantically, which circled back around to arouse him even more all over again, until they were both gasping.

"Marley."

He’d given in, she could hear it, in the raw way he spoke her voice, with no warning, no threat, with only a desperate sort of passion, a vulnerability that tripped a feeling of triumph in her. "Yes?" she asked, lifting her head, testing him, knowing he’d groan at the loss, glad when he did. Before he could react further, she went down again, covering him, rushing her thumbs along the underside of his testicles.

It was instinct she was going on, the need to gauge his different reactions, find the angle, the motion, the combination that did to him what he did to her with his tongue. She didn’t have the technical experience, but she was good at listening. It was what she’d spent her whole life doing.

This position, the fingers, her hair sliding over his thighs, her rapid in and out, seemed to hit the jackpot.

"Fuck, that feels good," he said, gripping her head, thrusting her harder onto him.

He had a point. It felt pretty damn good to her too. Marley let him take over the rhythm, let him fill her rough and frantic, the control she normally saw from Damien nowhere in evidence.