29. Roman
Roman
Damon’s studio apartment feels smaller than usual tonight. Maybe it’s the way he fills the space, pacing like a caged animal while I sit on the edge of the bed, trying not to laugh at how worked up he is.
His chipped black nail polish catches the light as he runs a hand through his curls, muttering something under his breath that I don’t bother catching.
“You done yet?” I ask, leaning back on my hands, watching him like he’s some kind of live performance. “Or are you gonna keep acting like I’m shipping off to war instead of an away game?”
Damon’s sharp green eyes snap to mine, and his scowl deepens. “Three fucking days, Roman. You’re gone for three days. That’s practically war.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. “I’ll send you a postcard.”
“Funny,” he mutters, finally stopping his pacing to stand in front of me, his broad shoulders blocking out the overhead light. “You think I’m joking?”
“I think you’re dramatic as hell, babe,” I reply, my smirk widening.
He leans down, his hands bracketing my thighs as his curls fall into his face. “You wanna keep running that mouth, or are you gonna let me fuck you bare before you leave?”
The air between us shifts, heat sparking as his words sink in. We got our results back this afternoon—both clean obviously. My smirk fades, replaced by something darker that only Damon ever seems to pull out of me.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask, my voice low.
His lips twitch, but it’s not a smile—it’s that smirk that makes my pulse kick up. “Good answer,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up my thighs, tugging me forward until I’m pressed against him.
His mouth crashes against mine, and I meet him with just as much heat, my hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. Damon doesn’t kiss like he’s asking for permission—he kisses like he’s already taken everything, and I can’t get enough of it.
He bites down on my bottom lip, and I groan, the sharp sting shooting straight to my groin. “You like that?” he mutters against my mouth, his voice rough with need.
“Yeah,” I breathe, tilting my head to kiss him harder. “Give me more.”
Damon growls low in his throat, his hands sliding under my shirt, dragging it up and over my head before tossing it to the floor. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me against him as he kisses down my neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks.
“Three days without you,” he mutters, his lips brushing against my skin. “You think I’m just gonna let you walk out of here without remembering who you fucking belong to?”
“Big talk,” I manage, my breath hitching as his teeth scrape over my collarbone. “You gonna back it up?”
He pulls back just enough to glare at me, his green eyes blazing. “Lay the fuck down, you brat.”
I arch a brow, but the heat in his gaze sends a shiver down my spine, and I don’t argue. I move back onto the mattress, my legs spread just enough to make him swear under his breath.
Damon yanks his shirt over his head, his tattoos twisting and shifting with every movement, and I let myself drink him in—the lines of his muscles, the way his jeans hang low on his hips, the glint of the chain around his neck.
“You’re staring,” he says, his voice rough as he undoes his belt.
“Obviously. You’re fucking hot,” I shoot back, my lips twitching.
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he kicks off his jeans. “You’re such a fucking pain in the ass,” he mutters, climbing onto the bed and settling between my legs.
“You love it,” I say, my voice soft but teasing.
“Yeah,” he mutters, his hands sliding up my thighs to grip my hips. “I do.”
The confession is quiet, almost lost in the space between us, but it makes something in my chest tighten. Before I can say anything else, Damon leans down, kissing me hard enough to make my head spin.
He makes quick work of my jeans and boxers, then his hands are everywhere—gripping, stroking, teasing—and I feel like I’m coming apart before he’s even inside me.
“You ready for me?” he murmurs against my lips, his hand wrapping around my cock, stroking me slow and dirty.
“Fuck, yes,” I gasp, my hips jerking into his touch. “I need you, Damon.”
He pulls back, his green eyes locking onto mine as he slicks himself up with lube from the nightstand, the sight of him stroking his cock making my breath catch.
“You want the pain, baby?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe, my fingers digging into the sheets. “Do it. Make me feel it.”
Damon groans, lining himself up and pressing forward, the stretch burning in the best fucking way. My head falls back, a broken sound slipping from my throat as he pushes deeper, filling me completely.
I arch against him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I adjust to the stretch. “Move.”
“Not yet,” he says, his voice rough as he holds me there, making me feel every inch of him. “I want you to feel it. I want you to remember this when you’re gone.”
“Damon,” I growl, my hips shifting against him in a desperate attempt to get him to move.
He laughs and finally starts to move, his thrusts slow and teasing. The drag of him inside me is everything I didn’t know I needed. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by his low growls and my gasping moans.
“Look at you,” he mutters, his hand wrapping around my throat, pressing just enough to make my vision blur. “Fucking perfect, taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I moan like a whore for him, my nails raking down his back. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.”
He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he thrusts harder. “You’re not going to be able to sit for days, baby,” he growls. “Every time you move, you’re gonna remember me.”
“Fuck,” I gasp, my body trembling as he tilt his hips and hits that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyes. “Right there—fuck, Damon, right there!” I gasp, my hips jerking against his. “I’m so fucking close… please—fuck, please touch me—”
“I’m not touching your cock,” he growls. “I’m gonna fuck the cum out of you, baby.”
He drags his mouth down my neck, biting hard enough to bruise, and it makes my whole body tense. “You think three days without me’s gonna be easy?” he snarls against my throat. “You think you’re gonna walk around that locker room, sit on that bus, and not fucking ache for me?”
I whimper, useless beneath him, the pressure building, pressure I need to break. “Damon—”
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back so I’m staring straight into his wild, dark eyes.
“No. You don’t say my name unless you’re screaming it.”
His thrusts get erratic and deeper, slamming into the spot that makes my vision blur. “You’re not gonna touch yourself once. Not when you’re in that hotel bed. Not in the shower. Not even if you’re so hard it hurts. You wait for me. You fucking wait.”
“I will—I swear—I—”
He cuts me off with a brutal kiss, teeth clashing, tongues fighting, and when he pulls away, his voice is a snarl. “You’ll still be dripping with me when you get there tomorrow. That’s how deep I’m gonna fuck you.”
My cock’s throbbing, untouched, trapped between our bodies, and I can’t stop the way my hips jerk up against him, chasing anything, everything.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, Damon—need it—need you to—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses, his voice breaking with the force of it. “I know what you need. I am what you need.”
My eyes roll back, the sound that escapes me isn’t even human anymore.
“And when you get back,” he growls, fucking me harder now, chasing his own release, “I’m gonna bend you over this bed and remind you who owns every inch of this body. You won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”
He reaches between us—finally—but not to stroke me. His hand wraps around my throat, not tight, just enough to hold me there, to make sure I know I’m his. I bite down on a groan, dizzy with it, my entire body wound so tight I’m ready to snap. Then his pace changes. Slower. Crueler. Dragging it out while his mouth hovers at my ear.
I gasp his name—too desperate not to—and he growls, his hand tightening just a little on my throat. “Whose cock is in you, baby?”
“Yours—fuck—only yours, Damon.”
“Say it louder.”
“Yours!”
He thrusts in hard and deep, cock hitting me just right, and I feel it all at once—that unbearable, devastating wave. “Come on my cock, pretty boy. Show me who owns you.”
It hits like lightning. Violent, blinding, a full-body detonation that has my back arching off the bed as I cry out his name.
Damon’s hips stutter, a low growl tearing from his throat as he buries himself deep one last time, his release filling me. He stays there for a moment, his breath ragged against my neck, and I can feel every pulse of him inside me, hot and consuming. My body trembles beneath him, oversensitive and overwhelmed, but it’s not enough—not nearly enough.
He pulls out slowly, and I bite my lip as the emptiness hits me like a sucker punch. Damon sits back on his heels, his dark eyes dropping to where I’m still spread open for him. A low curse slips from his lips, and I feel my face heat under his gaze.
I feel it the moment the warm, wet slide of his cum spills out of me. My breath catches, and I’m too fucked out to be embarrassed when I glance down and see the mess he’s made of me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his fingers over my hole. His cum drips out of me, and he watches it with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“You’re a fucking sight, Roman,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “Stuffed full and still twitching around nothing.”
And before I can respond, he presses two fingers inside me, pushing his release back in. My breath catches, my head tipping back as my body clenches around him. He pushes in deeper, curls them just enough to make me shake. I whimper—actually whimper—and he groans, like I’ve just confirmed something for him.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he hisses. “You like being bred, don’t you, painslut?”
He drags his fingers out slowly, watches his cum drip down, then presses them right back in. “Damon,” I gasp, my voice shaky as his fingers twist and press deeper. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t waste a drop,” he growls, his lips twitching into a wicked smirk. “Still clenching around me like you don’t want me to leave.”
“Oh, God,” I rasp, my voice trembling as he fucks his cum back into me with those long, talented fingers. The possessiveness in his voice makes my cock twitch, even though I just came so hard I’m still seeing stars.
My hands clutch at the sheets as he works me over with slow, deep strokes, his fingers curling just right to make my entire body shudder.
And then he leans down.
I groan, my voice breaking as I feel the first swipe of his tongue against me. It’s dirty as fuck, the wet heat of his mouth lapping at the mess he just made, and my brain short-circuits completely.
“Fuck, Damon,” my head falling back against the pillow as his tongue works me over, dragging every last sound out of me. My legs are shaking, my breath ragged, and all I can think about is how fucking obscene this is—how obscene he is—and how I never want it to stop.
He hums against me, the vibration shooting straight through my oversensitive nerves, and I gasp, my fingers flying to his hair, clutching at the soft, messy curls as he ruins me all over again.
When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten, and his dark eyes meet mine with a feral intensity that makes my stomach twist.
“Tastes even better coming out of you,” he mutters, his voice full of smug satisfaction. He crawls up my body, his hands framing my face as he leans down to kiss me, slow and dirty, his tongue sweeping into my mouth so I can taste everything he just did.
It’s filthy. It’s perfect. It’s Damon fucking Ward.
My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as I kiss him harder, my brain swirling with every filthy thing he just did. His tongue slides against mine, and all I can think about is how it was just inside me, how he took every bit of control and left me wrecked.
I’m fucking ruined, and I know it. My mind’s a mess of thoughts—how he looked between my legs, how he felt inside me, how much I fucking want him to do it all over again.
And as he presses another kiss to my lips, slow and possessive, I know I’m absolutely fucked.
Because Damon doesn’t just wreck me—he owns me. Completely.