His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, hard already, aching with the force of his need.
He pictured her beneath him.
Her thighs trembling.
Her back bowing.
His name spilling from her in broken, breathless moans.
“Damien… please…”
His eyes shut tight.
Stroke after stroke, his breathing turned ragged—but no matter how fast, how deep, it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t real.
And he couldn’t touch anyone else.
Not anymore.
His breath caught—hips jerking, muscles tightening.
He came with a harsh groan, spilling into his hand—but even that didn’t satisfy him. Not even close.
His release was hollow. Unsatisfying. Almost maddening in its emptiness.
Because it wasn’t her.
And nothing would be enough until it was.
He leaned back, chest heaving.
Stared at the ceiling like it m
