I do, but it’s a half-hearted gesture. “Are
you going to want to do that while we’re getting it on?”
Damien makes a strangled sound and sticks his
tongue out at me like a petulant little boy. “You’re mean.” He
snaps off another picture or two, then tosses the camera onto the
pillows beside us. “You’re lucky I didn’t bring the video feed. I
could make a killing selling porno DVDs. Bel Amihas nothing
on us.” Before I can answer, he laughs. “I’m kidding. Don’t you
trust me?”
“I thought I did,” I say.
“You do,” he assures me. He starts to stroke
himself, the head of his cock peeking out at me from the foreskin,
and I have to touch it, just to see what it feels like in my hand.
When I thumb over the knob, creamy juice trickles out. Damien takes
my wrist and makes me lick it. He tastes salty and just a little
bitter. When I reach for him again, eager for more, he catches my
hand and laces our fingers together. “Where are the condoms?” he