In Between Her Legs.

Chapter Twelve: Starving for Him

The next morning, I wake up alone.

No warmth beside me. No rough hands pinning me down. No voice in my ear telling me I belong to him.

Just the ache.

The dull, relentless ache he left behind.

I press my legs together under the sheets, a shudder running through me as my sore, used body reminds me exactly what Damien did to me last night. How he f****d me open, took me in ways I didn’t know I could be taken, owned me until I was nothing but moans, gasps, and desperate cries of his name.

And now, he’s gone.

I should be relieved.

I should feel like I have space to breathe, to think, to pull myself together.

But I don’t.

I feel empty.

I roll onto my stomach, burying my face in his pillow. His scent lingers masculine, dark, dangerous and it only makes it worse.

My fingers slide down my body, between my thighs.

I’m already wet. Already needy.

It’s humiliating.

I bite my lip, parting my legs, my breath catching as I brush against my swollen c**t.

It’s not enough.

I circle faster, harder, but it’s not enough.

No matter how much I touch myself, no matter how much I imagine Damien’s hands, his mouth, his c**k stretching me it’s not him.

A whimper slips out.

I need him.

I need his voice, his orders, his body controlling mine, holding me down, making me scream.

I grab my phone off the nightstand, my fingers trembling as I type.

Me: Where are you?

I don’t expect him to answer right away.

But he does.

Damien: Good morning to you too, little thing.

I swallow hard, pressing my thighs together.

Me: I need you.

A pause.

Then

Damien: Do you? Or do you just need to be used?

A sharp breath leaves me.

My body clenches at his words.

Because he’s right.

I don’t just miss him.

I miss the way he takes me. The way he breaks me.

I hesitate for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Then, I force myself to type the truth.

Me: Both.

A longer pause this time.

Then

Damien: Say it.

My heart slams against my ribs.

I know what he means.

I bite my lip, my pulse hammering, my body screaming for his touch.

Finally, I give in.

Me: I belong to you.

Damien: Good girl. Now, be ready when I come back. I plan to make sure you never forget who owns this body.

A shudder of pure anticipation rolls through me.

I drop my phone, staring at the ceiling, my skin flushed, my thighs pressed tight together.

Because I already know.

By the time Damien Sinclair is done with me tonight

I won’t just be craving him.

I’ll be starving.