Free Have Me by J. Kenner

About the privacy of the stateroom. And about this wide-open cabin, separated from the crew’s area by just one thin door.
    But this is Damien. He’ll push my boundaries—I know that. But he won’t cross them.
    I let the robe fall to the floor, my eyes never leaving his. “Yes, sir,” I say, and see the heat of fire in his eyes, then feel it burn my skin as he slowly lifts his gaze from my feet to my head, examining every inch of me, and making me even wetter in the process.
    “Good girl.” His voice is rough, and I can hear the need. I glance down, and feel a wave of satisfaction upon seeing the unmistakable bulge of his erection straining against his shorts. “Now tell me what you want.”
    I almost sag with relief, because what I want is what I always want. Where Damien is concerned I am insatiable.
    I want him inside me. I want it hard and wild and just a little bit crazy. I want there to be room for nothing inside me except Damien. Not my dream, not the lawsuit, not any of the realities of the world that have started to seep back into my mind now that wakefulness has caught me.
    Damien
, I think.
All I want is Damien
.
    I start to say as much, but then stop myself. Because as much as I want him—and oh, dear god, do I want him—that isn’t all I want.
    No, I want him just as crazed as me. I want to make him desperate. I want to hear him beg. I know that he needs me—I stopped doubting that long ago—but I want to see that need in his eyes, and I want to see the satisfaction of his desires when he explodes inside me.
    I take a step toward him.
    “Tell me,” he repeats. “Tell me what you want.”
    “I’d rather show you.” I walk toward him as I talk, my eyes never leaving his. One step, then another. I see his expression shift, wariness edging toward pleasure.
    And then, as I kneel in front of him, there is understanding. Mostly, there is desire.
    He starts to speak, and though I don’t know if he intends to protest, I don’t wait to find out. I press my finger to his mouth and gently shake my head. “No. My turn. Not a word.”
    He nods, just a small movement of his head, but I revel in the power. I just might be the only person on the planet to whom Damien Stark will willingly submit.
    I lean forward and with slow, deliberate motions, I unbutton the shorts and then lower his zipper. I slip my hand in and stroke his cock through his briefs. He is hard as steel, and when I let my eyes dart up to his face, I see that his jaw is tight and know that he is fighting for control.
    I draw his cock out, steely hard and incredibly thick. Damien makes a low noise like a growl of need, and my stomach quivers in response. My entire body throbs with want of him, but not yet. Not until I taste him.
    I lick the very tip of his cock, and am rewarded by the way he arches back and the way his fingers reach for me and twine tightly in my hair. Feminine power surges through me, and I look up to see muscles in his chest straining against the shirt. He looks like a man on the precipice, aroused and wild and ready. And I am the woman who took him there. Who will take him further.
    I lick him, cupping his balls and following the vein that bulges in his cock up to the tip. He shudders under my touch, then gasps when I open my mouth and take him in, sucking and licking as I try to take all of him, wanting the sensation of making him go over like this, lost to my whim and the pleasure I am giving. I can’t manage, though. He’s too big and I am not at a good angle. More than that, I am driving myself crazy, because as much as I want to take him there, the truth is that I am craving the feel of him inside me. And the more I imagine the feel of him deep within me, the more I know that I have to have him. Dear god, I have to have him now.
    “Straddle me.”
    The words are little more than a whisper, but they wash over me with the force of an answered prayer. I tilt my head back and find him looking at me with such intensity