More Than a Hotline Fling

-18-

Damian's POV

Back in the comforts of our snake-inhabited home, I insisted that June and I ate lunch. Our feet swung at the kitchen island and her gaze burned a hole in the side of my face as we ate out of the to-go containers. We walked Bullet together, her hand intertwined in the one not getting yanked down the four-block radius.

The unusual afternoon time together relaxed my shoulders. My lips met the top or side of June's head as often as possible. My earlier frustrations dissolved under the gray backdrop of winter clouds, black slush-edged sidewalks, and empty trees in Central Park.

My cold cheeks puffed up and tingled as they warmed up inside. Bullet's tongue hanging, his pants were the only sound in the elevator. I fed him and shuddered as June nuked and dropped some dead rats into her snake's cage.

"I like taking care of her," she murmured, hugging her elbows and looking down at the cage.

Stepping beside her, I cupped my hand around the softness of June's cheek. She pressed it harder into my palm but the heaviness graying her eyes prompted me, "Let me take care of you."

At her hesitation, I arced my thumb over her cheek and added in a quiet tone, "Please... I need to."

The small upward tug on the corners of her mouth was the sign I needed but I waited and studied those damn cute cheek freckles until she nodded. I slotted her hand in mine and squeezed her fingers, leading her into our bedroom. The thumps in my chest built up faster than the padded sounds our feet made across.

When it came to sex, June was impatient. Two steps into the bedroom, her other hand already unfastened the tie on her scrubs but I caught her wrist and moved it to her side. She huffed a hot puff of air at me, which lifted and dropped her chest.

"I said..." I unrolled the edge of her top up her waist. She trembled as the pads of my fingers skimmed down the smooth, inward curves of her thighs. "Let me take care of you."

Dragging her shirt up, I groaned at the black lace cupping around her breasts. The arcs between them begged for my nose buried there, but I had a slow action plan and intended to see it through. One gentle tug after another, I removed her shirt overhead.

My eyes and fingers traced the light, jagged, c-shaped scar near her left armpit. An unnecessary blemish on her beautiful body, I hated that scar and what June went through to get it.

I followed my fingers with a press of my lips. Her hands cupped around my head, her fingers wrapping through the hair above my ears. A downward shove released a chuckle from me, so I threaded one hand behind her back and unclasped her bra with a pinch. She groaned but wriggled herself free.

Dryness coated my tongue from the bounce of her breasts, her nipples peaked with sensitivity. I wet my lips and latched onto the nearest one, sucking and kissing gently. My tongue circled enough passes that June's fingers tensed into my scalp, then released. With the skin raised pink, I blew a soft breath and cupped one side while my mouth moved to the other side.

Harder beats pulsed where my cheek pressed into her chest. Impatient, rapid breaths puffed down on me, and June's moans vibrated the airspace. The sound, which I recognized in my sleep, hummed into my forehead and tested my patience. Strain in my pants wasn't helping either.

The same impatience flushed pink across her chest and threaded into her voice, "Damian."

My hands bracketed around her waist, I pulled back and chased the gap between us. In a hard press, my lips met hers, parted and ready. The warmth and wet texture of her tongue invaded my mouth first, followed by a harder squeeze of her hands into my skull.