Chapter 252 Show me where you want me
Aria’s POV
Damian’s hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my kiss-swollen lower lip.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, "and I will."
I should. We were in a car, for god’s sake, parked on some random side street. This was insane.
But the way he was looking at me—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, like he’d been starving and I was sustenance—made rational thought impossible.
"Don’t stop," I whispered.
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "Say it again."
"Don’t stop, Damian. Please don’t—"
He kissed me again, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. His mouth was demanding, possessive, claiming me with an intensity that made my head spin.
His hands moved to my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. I helped him shrug it off, then reached for his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.
"Impatient?" His voice was pure sin, low and amused against my ear as his lips traced down my neck.
"You’re the one who—ah—" My words dissolved into a gasp as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.
Not hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough to send electricity shooting down my spine, heat pooling low in my belly.
His hands found the hem of my sweater, fingers ghosting against the bare skin of my waist. I shivered, arching into his touch without meaning to.
"Cold?" he murmured against my throat.
"No." God, no. I was burning up. "Damian, please—"
"Please what, baby?" His hands slid higher, thumbs brushing the underside of my bra. "Use your words."
My face burned. Even in the darkness of the car, I felt exposed, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with clothing.
"Touch me," I managed, my voice coming out breathy and desperate. "I need you to touch me."
He made a low sound in his throat—almost a growl—that sent another wave of heat through me.
"Where?" His hands stilled, waiting. "Show me where you want me."
Oh god, he was going to make me...
I grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand up to cup my breast through the thin barrier of my bra. Even that simple touch made me whimper.
"Here," I whispered. "And—and everywhere."
"Everywhere," he repeated, voice rough with barely restrained control. "That’s a lot of territory to cover, mate."
Before I could answer, he dragged me fully into his lap.
My knees hit the seat on either side of his thighs.
He shoved my sweater up, yanked my bra down until my breasts spilled free into the cold air of the car, and popped the button on my jeans with one impatient twist of his fingers.
Zipper. A hard tug. Denim and panties shoved halfway down my thighs—not even all the way off. Just enough.
His cock was already out. Thick. Hot. The flushed head dragged through my folds, smearing my wetness up and down until the sound alone made my ears burn.
"Sit," he ordered. "All the way down."
I sank onto him.
The stretch punched a broken moan out of my throat. Inch by inch he filled me, splitting me open around that brutal thickness until my ass met his thighs and I was seated to the hilt, fluttering helplessly around him.
"Fuck—" My hands fisted in his open shirt. "Damian—"
"Ride it." His palms cracked against my ass, gripping hard. "Show me how jealous little mates take cock."
I moved.
Slow at first—rolling my hips, feeling every inch drag inside me—then messier, wetter, bouncing on his lap while the car filled with the filthy sound of my cunt taking him.
He sucked one nipple into his mouth and bit down just enough to make me cry out, tongue lashing the stung peak as I fucked myself down onto him harder.
"That’s it. Good girl. Soak me."
Heat coiled viciously low in my belly. I was close—too close—when his arms suddenly locked around me like iron and forced me still, buried so deep I whimpered.
"Turn around," he rasped against my ear. "Don’t pull off."
"Damian, I—"
He didn’t wait.
He manhandled me on his cock—hands rough on my thighs, spinning me while I was still impaled—until my back slammed flush to his chest.
The twist of him inside me made my vision spark white. Before I could catch my breath, he hooked both arms under my knees and hauled them up and apart, spreading me wide open in his lap like I weighed nothing.
My back against his chest. My thighs shoved up toward my shoulders. My cunt fully exposed and stretched around the base of his cock, facing straight toward the closed car door. He held me there, completely open, completely helpless, and thrust up into me hard enough to make my tits bounce.
"Oh my god—Damian—!"
"Hold onto me if you need to," he growled, voice wrecked with lust. "You’re not closing these legs."
He fucked me like that—holding me open, arms hooked deep under my knees, bouncing me on his cock in short, vicious upward snaps.
Every thrust made me watch, whether I wanted to or not: the glossy stretch of my pussy lips around him, the wet gleam of cream gathering at his base, the way my hole clung and dragged every time he pulled back.
Then his mouth found my ear.
"Open the door."
My whole body seized. "No—Damian, please, someone might—"
His hips stopped dead.
Then the punishment started.
He pulled out so slowly I sobbed. Just the fat head left stretching my hole, holding me open, before he sank back up with unbearable patience—one thick inch at a time—until I felt every vein drag along my walls.
No rhythm I could chase. No impact. Just endless, deliberate penetration that kept my clit throbbing and my orgasm locked cruelly out of reach.
His fingers peeled my pussy open wider for the empty car, showing off the way I stretched around him.
"Feel that?" he breathed against my ear, voice pure filth. "How your cunt is sucking on me? Begging? And you won’t even open a fucking door."
"I don’t want anyone to see—"
"See what?" Slow thrust. All the way in. A filthy grind against my deepest spot. "See this pretty hole all shiny and used? See how you drool down my balls when I fill you up?"
He kept going. Torturous. Wet. Mean.
Out until I gaped around nothing but the tip.
In until my stomach jumped.
Out.
In.
His fingers never left my clit—rubbing just enough to make me jerk, never enough to tip me. My thighs started shaking violently in the crooks of his arms.
Slick was pouring out of me, soaking his lap, dripping onto the seat in sticky strings. I was whining, open-mouthed, head thrown back on his shoulder, cunt clenching desperately around every slow invasion.
"Damian—I can’t—please fuck me, please, I’ll do anything—"
"You know what anything is." Another viciously slow stroke that made my toes curl. "Open. The. Door. Yourself. Or I keep you like this until you’re crying."
I was already almost crying.
The shame burned hotter than the need. Facing that door. Legs forced wide in his hold. Knowing exactly what he wanted to show the night. My hand shook as I reached forward—still split open on his cock, still locked in that obscene hold against his chest. Fingers hit the handle.
Click.
The door swung open.