Daemon likes to sleep with his leg between mine, his hand on my thigh. Warren, he’s just as possessive but in a different way. Several mornings I would wake to find his hand holding mine to his chest.
The more I think about it, the harder I breathe. My heart beats faster and I debate seeking them out. But after tomorrow I won’t have them to run to. I skim a hand under the covers and pull back the band of my underwear.
It’s quiet so I know they’ve all gone to bed.
Alone in the dark, I grab my pillow and draw it over my face, giving in to the pressure, and just scream. Scream out my frustration and hurt, my anger at the Universe for giving me something for so short a time and then yanking it away.
I swirl a finger around my clit through the cloth of my panties and feel a sudden sting of need shoot through me. But no fire. Not like what they do for me. I haven’t gone a single night without feeling their pleasure and my body is going into withdrawal. My legs slide open and I cup my pussy. The touch of my own fingers is nowhere near what theirs feels like on my flesh, but I push aside my panties and I work my clit. Slow circles at first. I ease up the edge of my nightshirt to find my nipples hard, eager. I gasp and for a second I think I can find my release with a little more effort, but the harder I caress the nub tucked between my folds, the further away my release escapes.
I throw aside the covers, yank off my panties. I close my eyes as a moan whispers past my lips when I sink two fingers into my pussy. Wet, hot and hungry. A noise by the door draws my attention and I look on as Warren crosses the room and places a knee on the bed. In the dark I can feel the heat of his gaze on my hand.
I shudder when his fingers brush over my belly and he slowly pulls my hand away. Eyes wide, I look on as he wraps his lips around my fingers, sucking them clean. Hair tousled and his chest bare, he’s a vision of pure masculinity when he lays between my legs. Before I can protest, whimper or beg, he takes my throbbing clit between hot lips. Large hands sink beneath my ass and I’m devoured and sent reeling into another world when my orgasm hits.
There’s no time to prepare, only to feel.
“Fuck, yes,” he growls against my sensitive folds. Teeth take the flesh and I’m arching off the bed and falling prey to another rush of hot liquid spilling between my thighs. He flicks the tip of his tongue over the hard pleasure nub, and a part of me falls away. No longer belonging to me. It’s his. Just like Daemon holds another piece of my heart.
“You’re a treasure, Jemma. A jewel.” His soft words don’t match the lighting fury I see flash across his face. I can only assume he’s as torn up about the end of our fling as I am. His cock tents a pair of low-slung sweats and when I dip my eyes, he pulls away.
“Sleep while you can. The sun is about to rise. Erik will take you to the airport in the morning and join you on the flight.”
Instead of demanding answers, my brain shuts down as he clips a Ferris wheel charm onto my bracelet opposite the dangling Eiffel tower. And just like that I know it is over.