Chapter 1 Ellis #2
I expect him to leave, but… he doesn’t budge. Damon stands right there, gazing intently at me. He doesn’t move at all, stiff as a statue, and I actually start to worry if he’s all right.
When he leans in, I automatically do the same.
Damon places his lips close to my ear, similar to how I had done. His breath is warm against my skin and his hair tickles my temple when he murmurs, “I wasn’t turning you down on your proposal, Ellis. Just… negotiating your deal breaker.”
My heart jumps. That means…?
“Your place or mine?” he asks, voice low and husky.
A wicked grin spreads across my face. “I’m right down the street.”
I hop down from my stool and turn toward the door.
Damon faces his friends and cocks his head toward the tray still on the counter.
I’m not sure how they respond to that, though I pretend not to notice the way Damon flips them off.
As soon as we step outside, humid air hits my lungs.
Damon gives me a wide smile and puts an arm around me.
His body heat against mine is scorching, and it’s about to get about a hundred times hotter with what I’ve got in mind, so who am I to complain?
His eyebrows crumple together when I swipe my access card to get us into the lavish condominium building where Dad’s penthouse is. Even when we get into the elevator and I press the topmost floor, his expression doesn’t relax. At least he hasn’t let go of me and his arm continues bracing me.
“Jesus, now I want to know what you do for a living,” he says.
“It’s actually my dad’s place.” As soon as I say that, his mouth drops, so I quickly follow it up. “He’s out of town, don’t worry. Like I said, I only got to the city today and I still have to go apartment hunting. I’m staying here until I find a place.”
The elevator opens to the penthouse, and Damon’s eyes practically bulge out at the high ceilings and sleek furniture. Since we’re not here to admire the interior design, I turn to push him, his back colliding with the wall, and his already-red cheeks turn even darker.
“You don’t waste time,” he says, tone amused as I work on the buttons of his shirt. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you? Bet men like to fawn over you. Give you everything.”
“Statistically, yes.” I’m already kicking my shoes off as I help him undress. I’m a multitasker like that.
“Statistically?” Damon laughs, but he thankfully matches my enthusiasm as he pulls my tight shirt off me.
His voice hitches as his gaze tracks down my body, his eyes darkening.
Good. He likes what he sees—and I like what I see as well, because I’m greeted by steel abs as soon as I finally get his shirt off him.
He’s so hot that it makes my mouth water, and I place a palm on his chest, fingertips scraping lightly against the soft hair there.
He sucks in a breath when I drag my fingers across his pecs, my thumb grazing against his nipple. I give him a wicked grin, pressing up against him and feeling his hardness against mine through our pants.
Damon cups my face, then he tilts his head and—
I grip his jaw, keeping him in place. “Sorry,” I say. “I don’t do that.”
“Kissing?” He sounds perplexed. “Another deal breaker?”
“Something like that,” I say.
And because I can’t let him think this was all a huge mistake, I unbuckle his belt and kneel. My knees hit the carpet, and when I look up, Damon’s gazing at me with wide eyes and a parted mouth, his bare chest heaving slowly.
“I know, I’ve got a lot of hang-ups. Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while,” I tell him. “If you’d like me to stop now, though, it’s cool. Just tell me.”
Damon keeps silent, and his mouth curls into a lazy smile.
He doesn’t stop me when I hook my thumbs against the hem of his pants and underwear. He doesn’t complain when I pull them down slowly so that he still has the chance to back out if he wants to.
He doesn’t back out. Damon only watches me, his fingers finding their way to my hair as he grips my head softly. And when I put his stiff cock in my mouth, swallowing it down to the base without any preamble, the sound of his loud groan and the back of his head hitting the wall is music to my ears.
The grip he has on my hair tightens and loosens, and he holds a hand to his mouth to muffle his groans.
Not sure why, considering we’re the only ones in this huge place.
I continue to suck him off, palming his heavy balls as I do.
God, he’s delicious. Damon’s dick is thick and long, and it’s a good thing I don’t have a gag reflex because I’m able to savor every inch of it.
His thighs quiver but otherwise he’s still. Too still.
I pop off him and give him a look. Stroking him leisurely, I say, “You can be as rough as you want with me. Just saying.”
He sucks in a breath and puts his hand on my arm. The grip he has on my hair tightens, and before I know it, he’s pulling me up. Damon holds me close enough that I feel his breath on my mouth. In a moment of panic, I think he’s going to kiss me—but he doesn’t. He respects the rules I set out.
Instead, he knocks our foreheads together and asks, “Where’s your room?”
“Down the hall to the right,” I say. It’s the guest room, actually, but he’ll probably figure that out himself when he sees how it’s devoid of any personality.
He yanks his pants up, covering his cock, and I frown.
Before I can ask, he slides his hands down my arms, down to my waist, then to my back.
Then my feet are literally lifted off the floor.
I gasp, but he only laughs as I scramble to wrap my legs around him.
Damon gives me a huge grin, his hold on me firm, which calms me.
The effortless way he carries me toward the guest room makes my dick leak.
“Hockey players are something else,” I grumble against his neck.
He laughs and presses his lips against my temple. It dislodges my heart, but I can’t even complain about it because it’s technically not breaking any of my rules. And I did put my mouth all over his chest. I put it on his cock.
“Not a hockey player anymore, sweetheart,” he says.
Sweetheart. Sweetheart.
Who the hell does he think he is, using that nickname on me? We’re practically strangers. It’s horrifying to me that someone can be this sweet so freely.
Even more horrifying is that I like it.
A lot.