Chapter 12
12
T he elevator doors close behind us, and I slump, pulling my blanket up over my head.
A quick cup of tea turned into two hours of socializing, and I didn’t have the heart to tap out when Leo seemed so happy to have company.
As we ascend, Damien turns to me. “Thank you for being so patient with Leo. He can be a bit much sometimes.”
I lean on the elevator wall, the cool metal seeping through the layers of material surrounding my body. “Leo is very nice.”
“He is, and he’s probably going to be running this family in a few years.” Damien studies me with a hint of concern. “But you look drained. Are you all right?”
Weariness presses down on me like a physical weight, and I stumble forward to wilt against Damien’s solid form.
“Socializing has always sucked away my energy,” I admit to his sweater.
Damien’s hand pauses on my back, surprised by the reference to my past. “Yeah? Are you an introvert?”
I nuzzle his chest. “Yeah.”
He strokes my back. “So Dr. Foster’s instruction to socialize outside of me is going to be tough on you.”
My head turns, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath my ear. “I only need one person.”
“Don’t tempt me to monopolize you.” Damien chuckles, the sound rumbling into my bones. “Do you think you’ll make it back to the suite?”
Too drained to form words, I shake my head.
Damien bends over me, his breath ruffling my hair. “Would you like me to carry you?”
I lift my arms, spoiled and loving it. Maybe even loving him.
In one smooth motion, Damien scoops me up, cradling me to his chest like a bride. My arms lift to wrap around his neck, and I bury my nose against his warm skin. Damien’s pheromones envelop me, leaving me feeling safe. A deep, contented rumble emanates from Damien’s chest, the vibrations soothing my overstimulated senses.
The elevator arrives on our floor, the doors opening with a quiet shush . As he carries me down the hall to our suite, my mind drifts.
When I first arrived here, I was so scared and broken, flinching at every sudden movement and loud noise. The idea of seeking physical contact, even from someone as kind and patient as Damien, filled me with terror. But Damien never pushed, never demanded more than I could give.
And slowly, his unwavering patience and acceptance coaxed me out of my shell. Each time I reached out to him, each time I allowed myself to be vulnerable, Damien always met me halfway. He never rejected me, never made me feel like a burden or broken.
My sessions with the therapist have played a significant role, too, helping me process the trauma of my past and learning to trust again. It’s been a difficult road, but with each passing day, I become a little more whole, a little more human.
Damien pauses in front of our suite door, shifting me in his arms. “Do you remember the code?”
I nod without lifting my head. I memorized it the first day, and he confirmed I knew it so that if I left our suite, I could get back in without him.
When I don’t move, he adds, “Can you punch it in for me? Unless you want me to set you down?”
A small groan escapes my lips at the thought of relinquishing my hold on him, even for a moment. But I do, unwinding my arms from around his neck and leaning down to input the code.
When the lock whirs open, I grip Damien’s sweater as I fumble to open the door.
Damien catches it with his foot and half turns, using his shoulder to push it farther open and step inside. He carries me into the suite and straight to the bedroom, where he sets me on the edge of the mattress. Kneeling in front of me, he unties my shoes and slips them off my feet.
As I pull my legs up onto the bed, I yawn.
“Sleepyhead.” He brushes a stray lock of hair back from my forehead. “Do you need some time alone to decompress?”
The thought of being alone right now, even for a short while, sends a pang of longing through my chest. I’ve grown so accustomed to Damien’s presence, to the comfort and safety he provides, that I don’t want to let go yet. As he straightens, I tug on his sleeve.
Damien rumbles with contentment, the sound vibrating into my fingertips. It’s a noise of understanding, of acceptance, and it warms me from the inside out.
With a playful glint in his eye, he grasps one side of the blanket wrapped around me and tugs, sending me rolling across the bed as it unravels.
A surprised laugh bubbles out as the warmth of my cocoon vanishes. I land face down, the quilt soft beneath me.
Rising onto my hands and knees, I shake my tousled hair back to find Damien gripping the hem of his sweater. In one smooth motion, he pulls it off over his head, and my mouth drops open as I take in the expanse of Damien’s bare torso.
I’ve snuck furtive looks at him while he changed before, but he always wears a T-shirt and boxers to bed. Now, with nothing to obstruct my view, I’m transfixed by the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin, each line and curve honed to a map of valleys and ridges my fingers itch to trace.
An inky black tattoo curves around his waist on the right side in an intricate pattern of gears and cogs. Before I can stop myself, I crawl forward, closing the distance between us to kneel in front of him. My hand hovers above his skin, trembling as I trace the lines of the tattoo with my fingertips, not quite connecting skin to skin.
“You can touch it, if you want,” Damien murmurs, his voice rough. “I don’t mind.”
Emboldened by his permission, my fingers connect with his skin, and I marvel at the way his muscles jump and twitch beneath my touch. The ink glides smoothly beneath my fingertips, the skin warm and alive. I follow the path of the tattoo, mapping out each gear and cog, committing it to memory.
Damien’s breath hitches, and when my head lifts, I find him watching me with hooded eyes, his lips parted.
The heat in his expression sends a shiver through me. “It’s beautiful. The tattoo, I mean. It suits you.”
“I’m glad you like it. Everyone in my family has one.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and his touch lingers, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone.
I lean into it, lashes lowering.
Damien’s hand slides down to cup my jaw, tilting my face up, and my eyes open once more.
“I think”—he lifts my wrist and kisses the faded barcode on my inner wrist—“that you would look good with a little cog tattoo right here.”
At his words, my breath catches, and a sudden rush of longing washes over me. The idea of being marked as Damien’s, as part of his family, opens an aching pool of want inside me. “You want that?”
“I do.” Damien’s eyes never leave mine. “But only if it’s something you want, too.”
“I want.” The thought of carrying a piece of Damien with me always, a visible reminder of our connection, thrills me.
I rise higher on my knees, swaying closer until I exist within the heat radiating off his skin. “Did Dr. Foster really give us the green light to continue our relationship?”
Damien’s hand slides down to trace my collarbone. “He did. We discussed it in our last session. He was going to talk about it with you in the morning. As long as we take things slow with open communication, he sees no reason we can’t explore this further.”
Relief washes over me, followed by a surge of nervous anticipation. Tentatively, I reach out to run my hand over Damien’s abdomen, the muscles contracting beneath my palm.
“I’ve been asking for permission.” I lick my bottom lip. “To touch you like this. To be close to you again.”
Damien’s pupils dilate. “Tell me what you want to do.”
My heart hammers, but I’m braver now. I can ask for what I want, and Damien will give it to me. “The same thing as last time, but maybe… More?”
The words come out breathy with uncertainty, and Damien lifts my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my wrist again.
“How much more?” he prompts, his lips brushing my skin as he speaks.
Heat blooms in my stomach, spreading through my limbs in tingling waves. I squirm, caught between nerves and desire. “Will you… use your mouth on me?” I ask, barely able to get the words out past my embarrassment. “Please?”
Damien growls, a primal sound that shivers through me. He pushes my sleeve up higher, exposing more of my arm, and trails his lips along the sensitive skin of my inner elbow. “Where do you want me to use my mouth, Seven?”
A needy whine escapes me, my head falling back as Damien’s mouth works its way up my arm. Every brush of his lips, every scrape of his teeth, sends tingles dancing through my body. When he nips at the tender skin on the inside of my elbow, a gasp escapes, my breath catching.
With a gentle push, Damien guides me backward onto the bed, following me down until I lie flat on my back. He crawls onto the bed to join me and catches my ankle, lifting my leg to kiss his way up from my calf, pushing my pant leg higher as he goes.
“Is this where you want my mouth? Or here?” He punctuates the question with a nip at my inner thigh, making me jump and shudder.
“Yes.” I tremble beneath his touch. “Please, Damien…”
He starts over, working up my other leg, feeding the burn under my skin and turning me into a twitching, whiny mess.
Damien rises above me, bracing his hands on either side of my head as he looks down at me. Hunger fills his dark eyes, but also a tenderness, a carefulness in how he holds himself over me without trapping or pinning me down.
“Or, when you said to use my mouth on you, did you mean like this?” He dips his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that steals my breath and sends my thoughts spinning.
I lose myself in the slide of his lips over mine, in the teasing flicks of his tongue.
By the time he pulls back, my head buzzes and I pant, my lips kiss-swollen and tingling. Dazed, I blink up at him as I try to gather my scattered thoughts. “I… Yes, that, too.”
Damien chuckles, the warm sound wrapping around me like an embrace. His fingers toy with my waistband. “Seven, I want you to feel good, but I don’t want to trigger any bad memories for you. Is it all right if I take off your pants? I don’t want to make a mess like last time.”
At the suggestion, my stomach swoops with a confusing mix of want and trepidation. While my legs aren’t as scarred as my torso, the idea of Damien seeing my marred skin raises prickles of shame all over my body.
But this is Damien, my safe place, my home. The man who has never once looked at me with disgust, only care and desire. Damien, with his endless patience and understanding.
Slowly, I meet his gaze. “I trust you.”
The smile that spreads over Damien’s face shines with so much happiness it takes my breath away. “Thank you, Seven. I’ll take good care of you.”
Damien’s hands glide down my sides, fingers hooking into the waistband of my pants. My breath catches as he slides them down, exposing more of my skin to the cool air. Instinctively, I try to cover myself, crossing my legs to hide my flaccid dick. I want him so much. It shames me that I can’t manifest my desire in the most basic way.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Damien soothes, hands stroking my thighs. “You’re perfect, Seven. Every single part of you is beautiful to me.”
Instead of pushing further, Damien returns to kissing along my legs, his soft lips lingering on spots that draw gasps and quiet moans from my throat. The teasing pressure and whispered assurances melt the tension from my muscles. Almost without realizing it, I relax, uncurling under Damien’s coaxing touch.
A rumble of approval rises from him as his lips trace along my inner thighs, kissing each scar as if they’re something precious.
I gasp, arching into the contact. He’s so patient, so tender. It’s as if he can read my every thought and knows exactly what I need to feel safe.
He nips my inner thigh. “You taste so good.”
I whine, my hips arching upward, seeking more of his delicious attention.
He chuckles, the vibrations traveling up to my balls. “Do you want my mouth somewhere else?”
My hands twist in the quilt, my whole body on fire from his kisses.
As he teases the soft skin behind my knee, his fingers ghost over my entrance. My hole twitches in response, anticipation thrumming in my veins.
“I need you, Seven,” he admits, his voice thick with desire. “I’ve never needed anyone or anything as much as I need you right now.”
The confession undoes me. I melt into the mattress, my legs falling open like a book, revealing the core of me to him.
In answer, his head dips to place open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs, and my legs tremble at the sensation, pleasure sparking under my skin. When Damien’s lips brush over my flaccid dick, I suck in a sharp breath, hips jerking.
“It’s okay, relax for me.” He nuzzles into the crease of my thigh and cups my balls, rolling them in his palm as his tongue laves over my shaft. Tingling heat pools low in my belly at the sensation.
“Raise your hips for me, sweetheart.” At Damien’s quiet instruction, I shakily lift my lower body.
He slides a pillow beneath me, propping me up at an angle.
I gasp when his fingers graze over my entrance, already slick with arousal. Damien pulls back, showing me the glistening evidence of my body’s response to him. The sight burns through me with embarrassment and want, my dick giving an interested twitch on my stomach.
“So wet for me already,” he praises.
Damien’s fingertips return, circling my rim as his mouth engulfs my length. I cry out at the dual sensations, canting my hips into the wet heat of his mouth. He hums around me with encouragement, sending sparks of pleasure racing up my spine.
One of Damien’s fingers breaches my entrance, pushing past the initial resistance. I tense for a second before his tongue flicks over the head of my dick, scattering my thoughts. He works the digit deeper, opening me with patient thrusts as he tongues at my slit. It’s almost too much stimulation, the burning pleasure of being stretched open coupled with the silken slide of his lips.
“Damien.” I fist the sheets, his name breathy and high even to my own ears. “I-I’ve never…”
He pulls his mouth off my dick with an obscene pop to stare up my body. “Trust me to take care of you, okay?”
Swallowing hard, I give a shaky nod, wanting to chase this feeling despite the nervous flutters in my stomach. Damien rewards me by returning his mouth to me as a second finger joins the first, massaging my sweet spot, and I grow semi-hard.
I sob with relief, and my world narrows to the wet suction of Damien’s mouth, the burning pleasure of his fingers inside me, the way my hips buck and writhe. He turns me into a mess of moans and keening cries, aware of nothing but the heat coiling in my hips.
Then Damien’s lips close around my balls and an orgasm crashes through me, overwhelming in its intensity. I cry out as my inner muscles clench around his still-thrusting fingers, more slick spilling from my body.
Damien gentles me through the aftershocks, pressing tender kisses to my quivering stomach before rising to kneel between my splayed thighs.
In a daze, I watch as he rubs a palm over the impressive bulge straining the front of his pants, and my inner muscles clench in response. “Tell me what you want next, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything.”
Craving his closeness, his touch, his claiming, I reach for him with unsteady hands. “You, Alpha. I need you.”