I clenched.
So f*****g hard around him I almost screamed again.
“She died in a car accident,” he went on. “Ten years ago. Drunk driver. Hit her head-on. I held her while she bled out in my arms.”
My body stilled.
Just for a second.
But he didn’t stop.
He didn’t let me pause.
He just slammed back up into me and forced the orgasm out of my silence.
“She bled all over me. And I haven’t touched anyone since. Not until you.”
My mouth dropped open.
I moaned.
Loud.
So loud I almost scared myself.
“Oh my God—f**k—f**k—Damon—I’m gonna come—don’t stop—please don’t stop—keep going—keep going—tell me more—I want to know—I need to know—I want to feel everything—I want to feel your wife’s ghost and your rage and your f*****g guilt all inside me while you break me open—”
“You’re sick,” he g
