The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 61: Chapter 61 We’re not done yet, baby

Aria’s POV

He kissed me again, hungrier this time, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, wet dance that made my knees buckle.

His hands found the zipper of my dress, tugging it down inch by agonizing inch, his knuckles brushing against my spine with deliberate slowness.

The fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my underwear.

Damian’s gaze dragged over me—lingering at my breasts, the curve of my waist, the damp spot already forming on my lace panties. His tongue wet his bottom lip.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

Before I could respond, he lifted me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist.

I could feel him hard against me through his pants, and I ground against him instinctively, earning a low growl from his throat.

He carried me to the living room, but we didn’t make it to the bedroom.

He set me down on the back of the couch, the leather cool against my bare skin. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wide open.

I was completely exposed to him, and the way his eyes darkened made heat pool low in my belly.

"You’re so fucking beautiful," he said, his voice thick.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers trailing down my cheek, my neck, pausing at my collarbone. "And you’re mine. Say it."

"Yours," I whispered.

"Louder."

"I’m yours, Damian."

He groaned, his hand sliding up my inner thigh, his thumb pressing into my flesh. "That’s my good girl."

His fingers hooked into my underwear, pulling them aside.

The cool air hit my wetness, and I shivered. When he touched me—just one finger, tracing slowly through my folds—I gasped, my hips bucking into his hand.

"Fuck, baby," Damian breathed. "You’re soaking. Is this all for me?"

"Yes," I panted. "All for you."

He circled my clit with his thumb, featherlight, barely there, and I whimpered. He was barely touching me and I was already losing my mind.

"Please," I begged.

"Please what?"

"Please touch me."

He smiled—slow, wicked—and finally pressed a finger inside me. I cried out, my head falling back. He moved it slowly, curling it just right, watching my face as he worked me open.

"You like that?" he asked, his mouth against my ear, his breath hot.

"Yes—oh god, yes—"

"That’s it. Let me hear you."

He added another finger, and I moaned, long and low.

The sound was obscene, wet and wanton, but I didn’t care. I was dripping onto his hand, onto the couch, and he was watching me fall apart with hungry eyes.

I was close. So close.

Damian pulled away.

I whimpered at the loss, and he smirked. "Not yet, baby girl. When you come, it’s going to be on my cock."

He made quick work of his belt, his pants.

When he freed himself, I couldn’t help but stare. Even though I’d seen it before, the sight of him never failed to make my breath catch.

He was thick, hard, the tip glistening. I licked my lips without thinking.

"Eyes up here, baby," Damian said, his hand tilting my chin up. "I want to see your face when I fill you."

He positioned himself at my entrance—just the head pressing against me, teasing, not pushing in. I was so wet that he slid against me easily, the friction making both of us gasp.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice strained.

I nodded, barely able to speak.

Then he pushed in—slow, inch by inch, letting me feel every bit of him stretching me open. I moaned, long and breathless, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck," Damian groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. "You feel so fucking good. So tight. So wet for me."

He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, letting me adjust. I could feel him pulsing inside me, could feel every twitch and throb.

Then he started moving.

Slow at first—deep, languid strokes that made my toes curl. His hips rolled against mine, grinding, and I could feel him everywhere. The sound of us—wet and rhythmic—filled the room.

"Harder," I gasped. "Please, Damian—"

He didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped my hips and began to fuck me in earnest, each thrust harder than the last. The couch creaked beneath us. My moans turned into cries.

"Yes—yes—right there—"

He angled his hips and hit a spot inside me that made me scream. My vision blurred. I was dripping down his thighs, onto the leather, and he didn’t care.

"You feel that, baby?" he growled. "Feel me inside you? Feel how good we fit together?"

"Yes—yes—"

"Look at me."

I forced my eyes open. He was watching me with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

"I want you to come looking at me," he said. "I want to see your face when you fall apart on my cock."

His hand slid between us, finding my clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

That was all it took.

I came with a cry, my back arching off the couch, my body clenching around him in waves. He groaned, burying his face in my neck as he kept thrusting, riding me through my orgasm.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice strained. "Such a good fucking girl."

He pulled out suddenly, and I whimpered at the loss. Before I could protest, he lifted me again, carrying me toward the bathroom.

"We’re not done yet, baby," Damian said, his voice dark with promise. "Not even close."