I close my eyes, letting the sensation roll through me. I want to be brave and give him everything. “You can… You can take off my sweats. If you want,” I manage, voice barely more than a whisper.
Damien just stares, as if the invitation’s stolen the air out of his lungs. His fingers twitch against my hips, breath shallow. “You want me to see you?”
I nod, cheeks flaming. “Yeah. I want you to.”
He grins, a feral, delighted thing, and presses his mouth to the edge of the bralette again, nipping lightly. “You tell me to stop, I stop. Anything you don’t want, you say the word. You control this, Blue.”
“I know. I trust you,” I say, heart pounding as he slips his fingers into the waistband of my sweats, pausing, waiting one last beat for me to stop him. I just bite my lip and nod, the anticipation so sharp it’s almost sweet. I can feel every inch of air on my legs, every shift of the bed as he kneels between my knees.
And then he sees me: lace and skin and the way my cock strains against the powder-blue lace boyshorts. I can feel Damien’s gaze everywhere at once, scorching and gentle, eyes devouring the sight of me stretched out and waiting.
His reaction is instant—pure hunger and adoration as his eyes sweep over me, not missing a thing. His hand finds the swell of my thigh, the lace pulled tight, and he squeezes gently.
“Holy fuck.”
Noah
Myfacegoesnuclear.Not red—glowing-core meltdown. My thighs tense, instinctively trying to close, to hide, but all that does is draw more attention to the mess I’ve made of myself.
More than half my cock is out of the panties, flushed, dark, heavy, and leaking against my stomach. The way the fabric hugs the base, how the tip glistens—it looks obscene.
“I’m—uhm, I know I’m—” I start, voice cracking, fingers twitching with the need to cover myself, apologize, or hide.
Damien swears low under his breath. “Fuck me…” he whispers, shaking his head slowly, almost in disbelief, awe warring with lust on his face. “How the fuck are you soft everywhere else but packing like a goddamn pornstar?”
I let out a startled laugh, part embarrassment, part pride. “Is it—bad?”
Damien grins, running both hands up my thighs, settling them over my shaft, and squeezing possessively. “Bad?Bad?Baby,these panties can’t even hold you. You’re so hard I can see the veins through the lace.”
As soon as he squeezes my cock, the sound that leaves me isn’t intentional. It’s helpless—high and strangled and needy. My hips twitch without permission, cock jerking hard against the wet fabric.
“Goddamn,” he growls, forehead dropping briefly to my stomach. “You think I’m not imagining how you’d sound if I got my mouth on this massive cock? Legs locked behind my neck, your thighs squeezing my head, begging me not to stop while I suck every drop out of you?”
“Mien,” I whine, not hiding anything anymore. I don’t think I could if I tried. Every want I’ve ever buried is right there on my skin in the way my body leans toward him without me telling it to. I want this. I want him to see it. I want him to want me like this.
Damien places open-mouthed kisses up the inside of my leg, teeth grazing just beside the lace of my inner thigh. His hands never stop moving—cupping my balls through the lace, smoothing over my waist, fingers ghosting the waistband of my panties.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, biting softly just beside the fabric. “You gonna let me make you feel good?”
“Please,” I whimper, tears pricking at my eyes from how intense it feels to be seen this way.
“That’s my good girl,” he says, and his mouth curves into the smallest smile, all tenderness and want, and then he leans over and sticks his tongue out, flattening over my cock and lapping at the precum. Just one swipe and my whole body reacts like I’ve been electrocuted.
I let out a shattered noise I’ve never made before—somewhere between a gasp and a sob. My fists twist in the sheets, my spinearching on instinct, the lace pulling tighter across my cock as I twitch under his tongue.
“Oh—god—”
Damien hums quietly, and the vibration makes my hips jerk. I try to breathe, but my body’s twitching, locked, and panicked. I’ve never felt this before—not with anyone. He doesn’t take me into his mouth. Instead, he nuzzles me, his cheek and nose pressing in, stubble scratching my oversensitive skin and sending sparks dancing up my spine.
“I—I don’t think I—” My voice breaks. “It feels… It feels too much.”
He stills instantly and looks up at me with eyes full of concern. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, serious now.
I shake my head so fast it makes me dizzy. “No. No, I just—I don’t know what’s happening. I’ve never…” I trail off in a whimper.
“It’s okay, I get it,” he says gently. “You’re about to have your first real orgasm, baby. Let it happen. Just feel it. Just feelme.”
He keeps touching me, stroking through the lace, then slipping it aside to wrap his hand fully around me. I cry out at the contact, my hips jerking forward, and he follows the motion instead of stopping it.
