VEGAS follows you home (55 page)

This feels right. He…no, we feel worth it.

Olivia

Oh my good Lord, my boobs hurt. They’re so heavy on my chest, like I'm being crushed by cement blocks. Yawning, I stretch. My clothes stick to my damp skin and I groan.

"Damn sweating," I growl low, so not to wake the baby.

Glancing toward the bay window of our large master bedroom, it's still light out. I sigh in relief, knowing I haven’t slept the entire morning away. I tiptoe to the basinet and look down on Rosalyn Harlow Knyght, or Princess Knyght, as I call the spoiled infant.

Tracing her soft, round cheek with my fingertips, a smile slides over my mouth.

"We need to talk about these late nights, princess," I whisper.

Padding quietly to the bathroom, the material of my sleep shirt rubs my over sensitive nipples. I grab my swollen breasts, my palms pressing to wet spots.

In the bathroom, I lean into the shower stall and turn on the water. I turn and look in the large vanity mirror above the double sink. Groaning, I pull on the hair band, releasing my greasy ponytail. Lifting the shirt over my head, leaving me in a pair of cotton panties, I can't help but stare at my chest. It's doubled in size. I place my hands against them and my palms become saturated with heat. My eyes move to the breast pump at the far end of the counter and then to the shower.

"I can hold those for you," Damon whispers from the door. His eyes are riveted to my hands covering my bare porno breasts.

"I need to pump," I whine, giving the shower a longing gaze.

He steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"What about Rosie and Alex?"

Releasing one boob, I point toward the now closed door.

"I can't hear her through the door and shower."

He smiles, walks to the stall, and shuts off the water.

"Hugh is playing with Alex. Scarlett and Mercedes are in the kitchen with the baby monitor. The minute Rosie makes a noise, those two will be fighting to get to her first."

"I didn't realize we had guests." I furrow my brow, thinking about how long I'd been asleep.

"I didn't want to wake you." His eyes drop to my chest and he grins.

"What?"

Glancing down, I quickly bring my hand up to cover my right boob. Looking back to Damon, I scowl. His grin grows into a wide smile.

"Perv," I mumble.

He laughs. Leaning over the large tub, he pushes the stopper and twists the knobs. Water surges into the basin.

I sigh with yearning at the tub.

"We have company."

"Yes, we do."

He straightens and continues.

"We have company who knows you are exhausted by a finicky infant and toddler."

Damon strides toward me, placing his large warm hands to my hips and hooking his thumbs into my panties.

"Which is why they are occupying Alex, listening for Rosie, and preparing dinner for you tonight."

His fingers dance along my backside, leaving tingles which travel straight between my legs.

"They don't have to—"

"They know that, but they want to, Olivia. And I want them to, so I can take care of you."

Leaning down, he presses his lips to my nose before claiming my mouth. His hands fist the sides of my panties and pull me close.

"Damon," I mumble against his lips.

He presses closer, harder. My hands grasp onto his shoulders.

I turn my head and gasp. "Damon."

His mouth moves over my chin and along my neck.

"We can't," I pant, fisting the long cotton sleeves covering his biceps. "Not for at least three more weeks."

"I know," he breathes against my flushed skin.

Moving down, his lips kiss and his tongue licks a path over my collarbone, to my chest, and between my breasts. Kneeling before me, he slowly pulls my panties down my legs and lets them fall to my ankles.

"Step," he commands huskily.

I comply, stepping out of the panties.

Standing before him, completely naked with swollen breasts and a pudgy stomach, I bite my lip. Remembering the tampon string between my legs, a wave of self-consciousness crashes over me. Just before he presses his face to my belly and kisses, I wrap my arms around his head, holding him in place.

His hands caress my skin from ankle to thigh, from thigh to hip, disappearing to cup my bare bottom and gently squeeze. Then, palms flat, he moves up my lower back, around my ribcage, until he cups a breast in each hand.

Dropping my head back, I revel in the feel of him worshipping my body.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

Pulling his face back just enough, he swipes the flat of his tongue over my right nipple before repeating the action on the left. The sensation causes me to pull away, just a bit, but his hands come around to my back, pulling me to him.

"Damon," I gasp when he takes a nipple between his lips gently. "You can't—"

He releases my nipple as one hand disappears from my back and his tongue laves around my nipple. The feel of the plastic draws my attention to look down. With the press of his thumb on a button, the breast pump begins its task.

I run my fingers through his hair, touched and turned on, both making me feel weird. This shouldn't be a romantic or sensual situation, but he's made it one.

His mouth works against my other breast — small kisses to the underside, the flat of his tongue against the pebbled tip, and taking me into his mouth. The amount of time he spends on my breast drives me into lust overdrive.

After a few minutes, he pulls the pump away to place it against the breast he just lavished.

This time, he uses his fingers to draw patterns on the underside of my breast and occasionally swipes his thumb over the nipple.

Damon stands and my fingers fall from his hair to his shoulders. His eyes look into mine, as if he can see into my soul. His lips crash to mine in a searing kiss, claiming my mouth. When breath is needed, we pull away, eyes locking once more, and panting in unison.

Licking my bottom lip, I still taste him. His eyes drop, following the action.

The pump clicks off and disappears from my breast.

His hands on my hips, he guides me to the bathtub.

I'm not sure when or how, but the water is no longer on. He had me way too distracted to see him do this.

He helps me into the water and I sigh, settling against the side with my legs stretched out.

The warmth of the water washing away the sweat and milk from skin is almost as sensual as his mouth had been.

My eyes pop open when Damon steps into the tub.

"Lean forward," he commands.

As I move, he slips in behind me. Settling into the water, he pulls me so my back is against his chest. With his legs on either side of me, I get comfortable between them, placing my head back on him.

Soon, his hands are gliding up my arms. At my shoulders, he grips firmly and begins to massage the muscles of my neck.

I moan and melt against him.

Minutes pass, and soon, his hands become greedy, sliding over my collar and stopping at my breasts to play.

I squirm against him and tighten my thighs for relief.

Bowing his head, he presses open mouth kisses to the skin where my neck and shoulder meet. One of his hands continues a downward path over my belly.

Pressing my hands to his thighs, I close my legs tight.

He can't go there,
I silently panic.

"Relax," he murmurs against my skin.

"Damon, you can't—"

"Shh…"

One finger, one long finger, slips between my wet legs.

"I'm still—"

The finger slips between my folds, pressing against my clit.

"Oh God," I gasp, dropping my head back once more.

"Open for me," he demands before licking from neck to earlobe.

Without protest, I part my thighs and dig my fingers into his.

The one glorious finger circles and rubs against me. Tingles grow into throbs. Throbs escalate to a precipice my entire lower body bucks to cross.

Water sloshes around us and Damon growls against my skin. My gasps and pleas for release fill the bathroom just before ecstasy explodes between my thighs and pleasure surges like an electronic current to each limb.

"You're stunning." Damon kisses my neck.

"I can't take anymore." I push his still circling finger from between my legs.

I don't hear him laugh, but I feel it against my back.

Closing my legs, I turn a bit and lean against his chest. His arms come around me and his cheek presses to my head, holding me tight — right where I should be.

The End

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