He groans, voice going rougher, hands digging into my thighs. “You’re insane, you know that?” His hands slide lower, cupping my ass, finding the bands of the jockstrap. “You’re so—fuck, baby, what are you even wearing?”
“Something just for you.” My voice is quiet as I sit back so he can see everything. “What do you think?”
His eyes rake over me—bralette, slip-chain, and jockstrap barely containing the bulge beneath. He swallows hard, eyes gone dark and hungry. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” His hands slide up my thighs, then settle at my waist, thumbs stroking my hips.
The way he’s looking at me makes everything inside me go soft and shivery. I rock against him, feeling the hardness of his cock pressed against my ass. His fingers slide under the band, teasing at the edge, then back up to palm my chest through the lace.
I grind down harder, and he bucks up beneath me, breath catching in a hiss that punches straight into my core. “Fuck,Noah—” his voice breaks, breath shallow, like he’s on the verge of losing control.
I bite down on a grin, squirming just to feel the reaction again. Damien groans and pulls me down hard, his mouth crashing into mine. His hands are greedy—sliding up under the jock, cupping my bare ass, holding me so tight I can’t move unless he lets me.
His kiss is deep and filthy, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers marking bruises into my skin. Every inch of me is sparking—lit up and open, aching to be touched, to be kept. I press against him, chest to chest, letting him feel how much this is for him. How hard I am. How bad I want him to take it.
He breaks the kiss first, breathless, eyes wild. “You really did this for me?” he asks in a shaky voice.
I nod, biting my bottom lip. “Wanted to be brave and show you what you do to me. I thought about you all night and couldn’t sleep. So, I came here.” I pause, my cheeks burning. “I want you to look at me and touch me like you did the other night. I want you to see all of me.”
He lets out a shaky breath, sitting up and pressing our foreheads together. “You don’t know what you do to me, Blue. You’re all I’ve wanted for years.”
My chest aches at the honesty in his voice, at the hunger and the care wrapped around every word. “Then have me,” I whisper, voice trembling. “Please. I’m already yours.”
He doesn’t make me wait. His hands move up, brushing over my nipples through the thin lace, making me gasp. He grins, wicked and gentle, and pinches lightly, watching my reaction. His thumb rubs over the spot he just pinched, and I shiver hard enough that my knees press tighter into his sides.
“Jesus, baby—” he leans forward, burying his face against my chest.
I run my fingers through his hair, carding through the strands at the nape of his neck. His groan is a prayer. He mouths at the lace, hot breath fogging over the delicate fabric, nose brushing the little bow at the center. I can feel him staring, feel the weight of that hunger crawling under my skin. He nuzzles again, then drags his tongue over my nipple through the bralette greedily. I shiver so hard my thighs tighten around his waist.
“You’re already fucking soaked for me, aren’t you?” His hand slides down, cupping me through the jock, and groaning at the weight of it
I nod, barely able to think. “Take your shirt off, please. I need to feel you against me.”
There’s no hesitation when his hands drop to the hem of his t-shirt, and he pulls it off in one smooth motion. The fabric drags over his abs, revealing tattooed skin I already know too well but will never stop wanting to memorize.
He’s golden in the dim light, cut and scarred and warm all over. His tattooed chest is broad and dusted with hair, his abs tight as he leans back against the headboard, dark eyes locked on me.
I press closer, lace brushing against bare skin, and god, the contact makes my whole body shiver. His hands come back to my waist, guiding me tighter against him, letting me feel every inch of his hard cock pressing up under the thin stretch of my jockstrap. He groans, head falling back for a second.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he rasps. “You know that? Sitting on me all dressed up in lace like a goddamn gift.”
I smile, but it’s shaky. “Then unwrap me, Mien.”
His hands slip to my back, and he unhooks the bralette slowly, fingers careful as the lace falls away. Then his mouth is on mine again, one hand in my hair, the other sliding down the curve of my spine, slipping under the waistband of the jockstrap to cup me. I moan into his mouth and grind down without meaningto, whimpering, the chain at my throat catching against my collarbones as I move.
He notices that too—his other hand slides up, fingers curling around the metal, tugging it just enough that I gasp.
“Wearing a collar now?” he says, breath hot at my ear. “You want to be owned that badly, baby? Want everyone to know who you belong to?”
My body jerks against him, shame and arousal sparking through me. “Yours,” I breathe. “Please—Damien—please.”
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips soft at the corner of my mouth. “I’m gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”
He strokes me lazily, thumb teasing the tip, catching the mess there and spreading it down my cock in wet, easy circles that make me whimper. He doesn’t rush; he just touches while I pant and grind into his hand, making a mess.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he confesses against my skin. “Used to fuck my fist to the thought of what you’d sound like riding me. Didn’t think I’d get to know, but now look at you wearing lace for me. Riding me. Leaking all over my hand. You like being dirty for me, don’t you?”
My breath stutters, heat rushing straight to my face and spreading through me. I nod without even realizing I’m doing it, desperate and pliant just for him.
He lifts his slick fingers and presses them to my lips. “Open.”
