More Than a Hotline Fling

-20-

Juneau's POV

Before Valentine's Day, Damian texted me that he worked overtime on a new-old case and called me once he left the office. He was flopped stomach-down and snoring in bed when I came home. He released an old man groan when Bullet barked, then zoned right back out.

I left him asleep, walked and fed our four-legged security system, and dropped Ella some food. Damian was the polar opposite of excited when I informed him the zoo needed another month, or three, before Ella's exhibit was ready.

Refreshed from a shower, I eye-fucked the way Damian's back muscles rippled in swelling waves and dips with his long, even breaths. Wetness pooled under my tongue and between my legs.

Some girls have a Daddy kink... I have a Damian one.

Sadly, it was true. I'd never been so riled up sexually in response to different visual, auditory, and tactile cues. His eyes flamed my skin with one dark look, the swells of his lean muscles under my hands flooded a leak in my lady bits, his words lit up my vaginal fireworks, and his touch ignited both. And his dick stuffed inside me offered an odd sense of completeness that I'd never experienced with another person.

Beyond the obvious him thrusting into me positions, I craved being sexual with him. Mere touch lit up synapses in my skin I didn't know existed before I met Damian.

We were both beyond vanilla but my mind worked its creative wonders when we were apart. Whether Damian was greeted home with me dolled down in lingerie as I pretended I cooked with my ass up in the air, sprawled out over his bed, or snuck into his post-workout showers, I lived for worshiping, appreciating, and taking what that man's body had to offer.

I loved kissing those hard, tired muscles he worked hard for, touching, sucking -

Settle down, June.

I never craved a guy as much as him, the sex sure, but also his presence. Nights in when we snuggled up for movies, before Damian's distracting hands wandered, were as enjoyable as dinners out. Negligent pet owners raised my hackles and he calmed me down by propping my stinky feet over his thighs and rubbing them with the pads of his thumbs until I was a mushy pile of sated comfort.

When I wasn't busy with school or work, my thoughts drifted to wherever he was. A piece of me was missing.

Like I chopped off my arm or something.

My eyes roamed over his bare body, arms hugging his pillow. The relaxed muscles in his back contrasted the flex in his biceps. Skimming a look over the rounded forms swollen up with definition was it for me. Want thrummed through my veins, burning my skin from the inside out, so I dropped my towel.

I need to touch him.

Within three steps, I nestled stomach-down between his legs and rolled him over with a grunt from us both. His half-mast dick flopped against the side of his thigh. My elbows bracketed his hips and his masculine scent filled my nose.

My hand encircled the circumference of his shaft, which thickened in my grasp. I tugged him until it thickened in all dimensions and hardened. The red, engorged head released beads of pre cum, slicking a faint sheen in the darkened space. Dryness crept over my tongue as I drew one slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip, ending with a teasing taste of him.

A low moan rumbled Damian's chest. His neck tightened, the cords strained with definition as his chin jutted up. His thighs flinched when I enclosed my mouth around him, drawing the tip in between pursed lips. His warm, early excitement tickled my tastebuds.