“You,” I admit. “Always you.”

“What about me?”

I allow my smile to widen. “Close your eyes, Mr. Stark, and I’ll show you.”

His brow lifts, but he complies, and I move closer, then stroke my fingers over his slick, wet chest.

“I’m going to make love to you, Damien.” My words are so full of emotion they feel too big for my throat.

“I’m going to take your mind off everything that’s bothering you. And a lot more effectively than swimming laps.” It’s late—after three—and I’m tired. I’m a bit sore, too, but it doesn’t matter, because I need this moment with Damien. I need to take care of him now, to stroke and soothe him.

I need it—and I desperately hope that he needs me, too.

I press a soft kiss to his temple, then ease down, trailing kisses down his neck, then his chest. We’re standing close together in waist-high water, and his erection presses against my thigh as if in silent demand. I want to shift and capture him between my legs, to use the buoyancy of the water to rise up and then sink back down again, impaling myself upon him.

I don’t, though—not yet. Instead, I slide my hands down over his back, breaking the surface to cup his perfect ass beneath the water, then continue my oral exploration, lower and lower until I’m tasting the lapping water along with the smooth skin of his tight lower abs.

I tilt my head to look at his face and find that he’s cheating—his eyes are open, but he’s looking at me so tenderly that I cannot chastise him. Instead, I allow myself one tiny smile, then slip beneath the water.

I hold his hips to keep me in place, and run my tongue along his cock. I’ve never done anything like this before, and the sensation of moving water coupled with the taste of chlorine and Damien seems sweetly wicked somehow. I want to draw him into my mouth, but I’m afraid of swallowing water, and so I satisfy myself with simply dancing my tongue and lips over his hard, beautiful cock. I can’t see him, but I know that the sensations are equally arousing to him. He’s becoming even harder under my ministrations, and the tension tightening in his body seems to shoot through him and into my hands as I hold tight to his bare, wet skin.

I rise up, needing both air and his kiss. I break the surface, gasping, and then press my mouth against his. His lips part, drawing me in, his tongue warring with mine as he takes control of the kiss. His lips are hard against my mouth, his tongue hot and demanding and so very thorough that there is no question that I have gone from being the seductress to being the seduced.

I’m only vaguely aware that he has moved us to the side of the pool. Now he breaks the kiss and turns me roughly around. I can feel my ribs beneath his hands and I am struck by how strong he is, and how fragile I am. He possessively skims his hands up to cup my breasts as his erection nestles against my ass. The cool air brushes my damp skin, but I hardly feel it. I am hot; hell, I am burning. I may have started this with the comforting warmth of glowing coals in mind, but I can already tell that Damien’s finish will be scorching.

“Tell me you trust me,” he whispers.

“You know that I do.”

“Tell me I can take you however I want to.”

I close my eyes and pull my lips into a smile. “Oh, yes.”

“I’m going to make you shatter, Nikki,” he says, as he takes one hand from my breast. He slips it between my legs, urging my thighs apart as he teases my sex with his fingers. “I want to feel my hands on you when you explode, and I want to know that I’m the one who gave that to you. Every breath, every ripple of pleasure, every ache in your cunt, every bite mark on your back. Me. I did that.”

My body shudders simply from the words and the anticipation of their fulfillment.

“Hold on to the side of the pool,” he orders, and as soon as I comply, he shifts his position and enters me from behind, gently at first, and then with a hard thrust that makes me gasp as water sloshes around us and my vagina clenches around him. I’m sore, but it doesn’t matter. I shift my hips, wanting more and more of him. One of his hands seeks to soothe my need for an additional touch, and it snakes around, finding my breast, squeezing my nipple so hard that it makes my sex clench even tighter around him. And then fingers are teasing their way down, down, until he brushes over my clit and I bite my lower lip in the expectation that, yes, he is going to let me come.

But not yet. This is Damien’s show, Damien’s game. And he is playing by his rules tonight.

Soon, he has withdrawn his cock from my vagina and his hand from my clit. I am bereft, lost without his touch, and I turn in his arms, intending to beg, then grateful to realize that I don’t have to, because he’s pulling me to him once again, demanding that I rise up, that I let the water do the work, that I wrap my legs around him and sink down deeper and deeper on his cock.

His hands on my ass support me, and I gasp in surprise and pleasure as he slides one finger down to our connected bodies, then rims my anus with a finger slick with pool water and my own arousal.

“Everywhere, Nikki.” There is a rawness in his voice. A need that seems to edge close to desperation, and as he speaks, he thrusts forward with his hips, at the same time pulling me down, impaling me hard against him even as his finger slips inside my ass.

I am impossibly full and the erotic sensation of having both his cock and finger inside me is almost more than I can handle. But Damien is relentless, and the force of his pounding has edged us backward so that my back scrapes hard against the pool’s edge and the water is as wild as a stormy sea.

“Forever,” he growls. His voice is rough, his actions more so. His thrusts are deep and violent. He is pounding into me, thrusting me wildly against the edge of the pool, my bare back scraping against the stone coping. Between my already sore sex, the assault on my back, and the tender flesh that his finger is so brutally invading, yes, he is hurting me.

I bite my lip because I don’t want to cry out. I don’t know why he needs this, but I know that he does.

Before he was gentle. Even his spanks were inflicted only for the purpose of pleasing me. This, however, is about Damien. Damien taking. Damien needing. It is me that he needs, and I give myself willingly. I am no stranger to pain. It gives me control, something tangible to hold on to. And I can take Damien’s pain and pull it tight inside me like a precious thing.

I think I understand what Damien needs. Not the pain, but the control. He needs to claim me. Maybe he can’t grab hold of the ghosts from his past that have returned to haunt him, but he has me. Right now, I am his to touch and possess. His to claim and use.

His. Simply Damien’s.

His release comes hard and fast, and I wrap my arms tight around his neck until the last shudder rips through him. He softens and slips out of me, first his cock, then his finger. I ease off him and find my footing, leaning back against the edge of the pool and breathing hard.

After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks at me. One moment passes, then another. And then I see the storm approaching. “Goddammit,” he says. “Nikki. I—”

“No.” I stroke his cheek. “No,” I repeat. “Don’t you get it? I want to be there for you. All of you. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he is silent. “Did I hurt you?” he finally asks, his voice flat.