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oxygen rattling in and out of his chest.
His mouth opened over the back of her shoulder and he trailed wet kisses up until he came to the
place where the curve of her neck began. He licked it once, and then his teeth opened and he bit into
her flesh, much as a stallion would a mare during mating. Angie let out a high-pitched sound as
lightning speared through her. She began pressing her butt up toward him, unable to control the
movement.
He groaned from deep in his chest and released both her clit and her neck. He reared up, and his
hands landed on her hips and restrained her within his grasp.
Angie felt pressure, a huge pressure, pushing against her opening. She was ready for it. She was
beyond excited, she was primed and waiting, her breath suspended as the expectation of pleasure
danced through her head.
****
Damian tried with everything inside of him, not to slam into Angie. His abdominals were held in
a tight configuration, his cock ready and poised to impale her. He took a breath, and pulled her by the
hips until she was exactly where he needed her to be.
He pressed the head of his cock to the hot, inviting wetness between her thighs and swirled it
around until every thought flew from his brain. He was driven by instinct, by the need to mate, by the
need to pummel her until he exploded and his seed spread out and soaked her on the inside.
Fuck, he needed that shit now.
He took the mind-numbing pleasure he needed and sank his erection inside of her with one long,
steady stroke until he bottomed out, hitting her womb and sending vibrations of pleasure down his
spine that gripped him by the balls.
A harsh gravelly noise exploded inside the room and he knew it came from him. He was close to
losing all control and he didn't think he cared.
He heard her moan blend with his groan, he felt her moisture all around him, and he began to
stroke her body, in and out, until what little thought process he had left separated from his body and
he became a purely physical animal.
With pleasure and need enticing him, egging him on, he pummeled her from behind, his rod thick
and hard. Not far from orgasm, an uncontrollable, possessive streak grabbed him by the heart and his
fingers sank deeper into her skin.
Unable to stop himself, he lifted her off her knees until the only thing holding her in a constant
position were her hands on the mattress and his cock, nailed inside of her.
She began to let out a long, continuous wail, and at the sound of her impending release, he lost it
completely. He began hammering at her harder, over and over, harder and harder, slamming into her
until his world exploded in pieces around him.
As orgasm held him in its grip, he held himself still inside of her, as deeply as he could go, and
let the peace and bliss that was Angie slide through his system and permeate his veins.
Finally, his heartbeat stilled. He knew she'd found her release as well, and he slid to his side,
pulling her against him but refusing to extricate himself from her body.
Not yet. He needed this feeling for a moment more; he needed to stay inside of her for just a few
seconds longer. Surely that was all he'd need before he started feeling normal again.
****
Three days later, when Angie opened her front door to Damian, her hair was back to its normal
color, a dirty blonde.
She'd decided to go for the full shock factor, and instead of being covered in black from head to
toe, since it was hot and summer was approaching, she was dressed in white, capri-length jeans and a
pink, short-sleeve top.
She wore silver jewelry, subdued-to-little make-up, and her fingernails and toes were painted an
oyster-shell pink.
Nobody on the street would have recognized her as the same girl she'd been twenty-four hours
before.
As she opened the door and stood back with a small smile, the facade of calmness she presented
to him was matter-of-fact, but on the inside, she was quaking.
What would he think? She knew she was only pleasantly pretty; there certainly wasn't anything to
write home about when it came to her looks. She had an okay body, mostly because she worked hard
at it, doing at least forty-five minutes of exercise, following along with the television work-out shows
she favored, at least four or five times a week.
But with her make-up understated, this was the real Angie. The person she'd been until the ruse
she began about a year before, and the person she'd always intending becoming again.
Of course, he'd seen her without make-up many times, she usually showered after sex, with or
without him, so her face itself wouldn't come as a surprise to him. But combined with the dark blonde
of her hair, who knew how he'd react? When the bad-girl image disappeared, would his interest take
a dive as well?
As she held the door open, the first thing she saw was a swift show of pleasure on his features
when his eyes met hers. Angie knew the look was simply from seeing her again, and she couldn't help
but feel a trickle of delight when she realized he couldn't contain his feelings for her, whatever they
were.
But then he frowned as his eyes ran up and down her length. His body stiffened as if he'd just
taken a direct hit. She didn't have time to feel disappointment, though, because he took an immediate
step forward and invaded her personal space.
One arm wrapped around her waist and with the other hand, he tipped up her chin. He smiled as
if he couldn't help himself, and his eyes ran over her again and then settled on her hair for a moment
before his eyes fastened to hers once again. "What's all this?" he asked in a darkly intoxicating voice.
With her heart beating loudly in her ears, Angie took a deep breath and shrugged. "Me."
He frowned as if confused and pleased at the same time, and he shook his head. "No it's not."
She studied him for his reactions. "Yeah, it really is."
Pushing her back to arms length, he spun her around, looking her over as if inspecting every inch
of her. When she was facing him again, he lifted one eyebrow and questioned, "Blonde?"
"Dark blonde," she answered, "mousy-brown, really."
He let out a harsh laugh as his eyes continued to gleam. "There's nothing mousy about you."
"No?" she challenged.
He shook his head while his fingers trailed up and sifted through her hair. "This is real? This is
really your color?"
"You didn't think it was jet-black, did you?"
"No, I knew it wasn't. Not with your pale skin tone."
When he didn't say anything else, she crossed her arms defensively. "What do you think?"
His hot eyes glowed into hers. "Initially, I'd say I like it." He tipped his head as if debating it and
then reached down and snagged her wrist with his hand. "But I need something a little more definitive
to go on."
With that, he turned and locked the door and pulled her toward the bedroom, his purpose
impossible to miss.
****
Several more weeks slid by and Angie was getting in deep. She was getting in more than deep,
she was falling in love hook, line and sinker.
Damn.
What to do . . . what to do?
Her changed appearance hadn't even been a blip on Damian's radar. He treated her no
differently. He looked at her the same way; he made love to her the same way.
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