Chapter 13 Kit #2
By the time we attendees are called together to listen to the hospice’s CEO wax lyrical about the eyewatering donations that have poured in throughout the evening, I’ve buttered up a Jerry, a Terry, and even an Arnold who held my hand for longer than necessary while completely ignoring his exhausted wife.
It’s a relief when Damian finally sidles up to me.
“You managed to shake off the vultures then?” he rumbles in my ear.
“Hmm,” I acknowledge him quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself in case said ‘vultures’ are circling.
“Meet me by the fountain outside in ten minutes.” And with that, Damian’s gone.
Excitement brews in my stomach as I wait out the last of the speeches, taking my cue from Lucien when to clap, when to laugh, and when to look suitably bored.
By the time the last speaker has gushed her thanks, I’m bouncing on my heels, just waiting for the moment I can catch up with Damian and see what he has in store for us.
I manage to slip away just as the applause starts, making sure to avoid Lucien so that he doesn’t get the chance to pass me off to another of his tedious acquaintances.
Darting through the hotel, I dodge tipsy socialites and quarrelling partners until I push through the French doors into the brisk, late autumn night.
The terrace is beautiful, lit solely by thousands of small, twinkling fairy lights.
It’s also completely deserted, seeing as there’s no incentive for the gala guests to brave the cold when everyone of note is at the bar.
I almost miss Damian lurking in the shadow of the fountain, though the moment I spot him, I know that something’s wrong.
His usually carefree expression has been eclipsed by something darker, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
I take a moment to enjoy the brooding sight, confident that whatever’s happened, it would never be me he’s mad at.
The second he notices my arrival, his lip twists into a feral snarl and his body coils, ready to pounce.
Then, he’s on me, dominating my mouth before I can utter a word, let alone prepare for his welcome attack.
He destroys me, blasting his way through every one of my defences with just the clever brush of his tongue against mine.
“I don’t like it,” Damian grumbles against my abused lips.
“Like what?” I gasp, throwing my head back in a silent plea that he take whatever dissatisfaction he has out on my neck.
“Those men were all over you. Looking at you. Touching you. Every time one of them breathed in your direction, I wanted to tear their greedy little eyes out.”
His hands cup my ass hard, pulling me into him so tight that I feel the press of his dick against my thigh. My own length pulses with desperate want, but it’s not the friction of Damian rubbing against me that pulls the strangled moan from my lips. It’s his words.
“God, Kit, I fucking need you.” His left hand squeezes my glute, palming the muscle hard enough to leave a mark before moving up over my hip to slip down the front of my suit trousers.
I press into his hand, begging him to keep going even as my sense of propriety wins out. “Damian,” I gasp, thrusting into his confident, possessive grip. “Not here.”
Damian growls, actually fucking growls as he wrenches himself away and hauls me back into the hotel. Somehow, he knows where to go, winding through the maze of immaculate yet identical corridors like he’s memorised the bloody floor plan.
“Damian, where are we—” I don’t get to finish my sentence before I’m thrust through an open door, stumbling across the tiles as Damian locks us in. A quick look at the safety signage and cleaning reminders tells me exactly where Damian has taken us.
“The staff toilet? Really? The classiest hotel in London, and we end up in the grottiest place imaginable.”
Damian looks around, a smug smile on his face. “You have to admit, it’s very us.”
I take a moment to consider Damian’s logic and quickly decide that, yeah, he’s probably right. So, instead of arguing, I throw myself at him.
Damian, of course, catches me, spinning me around so fast I don’t notice how hard he slams me against the wall until my head ricochets off the unforgiving ceramic. However, there’s no remorse in his predatory gaze as he runs his greedy hands under my suit jacket and over the silk of my shirt.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, Kit,” he says, nipping at my jaw. “Are you going to let me?”
My mind struggles to catch his words through the ringing tension between us, though I vaguely hear my one remaining brain cell asking, what, here? Only to be ignored by every other part of my screaming body.
“Anything,” I tell him breathily. “I’ll let you do anything.”
“Is that a promise for always?” he asks, his hooded eyes boring into mine. Then, he sinks to his knees before me, and I nearly come in my boxers at the beautiful sight.
Fuck, he looks good down there. Still, that one damned brain cell rears its pesky head again.
“Damian, are you sure? I mean, we’ve never—”
“Oh, I’m sure,” he interrupts, leaning in to press the gentlest kiss against the outline of my erection. “It’s all I’ve thought about ever since that first fucker in there touched you. You’re mine. Your body, your pleasure, your soul, they all belong to me. And Kit… I. Don’t. Share.”
My last brain cell admits defeat, throwing down the last of its morals to join the rest of us on the dark side.
Okay then. Have at it, I mean to tell Damian. Unfortunately, all that comes out of my mouth is a nonsensical jumble of choked sounds. Nevertheless, he understands me perfectly, and pops open my suit trousers to free my aching cock before I’ve even finished my non-sentence.
With the feverish way he’s been pawing at me, I’m more than a little surprised when he sits back on his hunches and just…
looks. It should feel awkward to be so carefully scrutinised by a fully clothed man when my trousers and boxers are around my thighs and my dick’s dripping precum onto the floor in front of me.
But it’s not. It’s the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, and Damian’s not even touched me yet.
With every second that passes, the fire in Damian’s eyes reaches new heights, scorching every inch of my body as he takes in the proof of what he’s done to me.
Then, just when I think I can’t bear it any longer, he slowly leans in and runs his tongue over my throbbing cock, licking a teasing trail from my base, all the way to the ejaculate leaking from the firm head.
He swipes across my tip, circling the sensitive slit and sending sparks of joy, pleasure, and pure bliss across my body before he sits back on his heels once more.
“You know, I was kind of worried I wouldn’t like the taste,” Damian says, almost to himself, before diving in again to tease out more of the salty fluid.
“Ahh,” I moan, my knees almost buckling as he dips in again. “Fuck, Damian.”
I tangle my fingers in my hair, tugging at the strands in the hope that the pain stops me from coming before I’ve felt Damian’s lips around me for the first time. And, based on the snicker against my pounding cock, Damian knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“How is this your first blowjob?” I gasp as he runs his tongue lightly under my foreskin.
Damian’s eyes catch mine, the teasing glint shining bright in the stark lighting of the bathroom. “Porn,” he says simply, before leaning in to tease me until I’m crying out in euphoric panic.
“Damian, please,” I all but weep.
Those must be the magic words, because Damian finally, finally takes me into his mouth.
Turns out porn can only get you so far, but enthusiasm will more than make up for the deficit.
He’s perfectly clumsy, choking whenever my cock hits the entrance to his throat, then hollowing his cheeks in apology with a powerful suck that brings me to nirvana.
He takes me deeper with every pass, working me higher and higher until my knees finally give in and I’m only saved from melting into a puddle by Damian’s firm grip on my hips.
When I feel that telltale hum in the pit of my stomach, I fist his hair and urge him back before he can take more than he’s ready for.
Stubborn as always, Damian doesn’t take the hint.
“Damian, I’m going to come!”
Instead of pulling off and finishing me with his hand like I expect, he buries himself as far as he can go, sending me over the edge and taking everything I have to give him as I shoot my load down his throat.
It’s messy, that’s for sure. Cum pools in the corner of Damian’s mouth as my release overwhelms him and me both.
But as I reach a high I’ve never felt before, I can’t find it in myself to care.
The whole of London’s upper crust could barge in right now and cast me out of polite society, and I’d laugh in their faces.
Because I have something they’ll never be able to buy. I have Damian.
“Stay there,” he orders, his voice huskier than it was just moments ago.
With one hand still on my hip pinning me to the wall, he opens his own suit trousers and fists his waiting cock.
It only takes a few, hurried tugs before he’s coming at my feet, throwing his head back to moan his release at the popcorn ceiling.
If we weren’t in a public bathroom, I’d fall to my knees before him and lap up his offering.
Maybe next time…
For what seems like hours, only our panted breaths permeate the echoing space. My body is still wracked with blissful tremors, encouraged by the slow circling of Damian’s thumb around my skittish hipbone.
“Well,” Damian says finally. “Thank fuck we’re already in a bathroom.”
I look at the state our rendezvous has left not only us, but the space we decided to defile, and laugh.
Who knew two nineteen-year-olds could make so much cum in just ten minutes?
Damian has even managed to get some on his suit jacket, which we scour away with hand soap and a hotel towel.
Luckily, my suit only bears creases as evidence of our escapades, because we’d be shit out of luck trying the same technique on my pale grey material.
After we, and the floor, are nearly as presentable as we were when we left the gala, Damian covertly peeks into the hallway and waves me out once he determines the coast is clear.
We don’t see anyone this deep into the hotel. It’s so quiet that I even feel brave enough to kiss Damian’s swollen lips in one of the many darkened corners we pass. It’s not until we round the corner near the lobby that the noise of the gala finally reaches us… along with my pissed-off mother.
“Where the hell have you two been?” Mum asks with a fake smile fixed on her lips for the benefit of anyone who might be watching.
“Err—” Suddenly, I forget every single word I’ve ever learnt. Thankfully, Damian is quick off the mark.
“Kit could feel a migraine coming on,” he says without missing a beat. “We just stepped out to see if some fresh air would help.”
Mum frowns. “Fresh air? But I looked for you outside.”
“We tried sitting out on the terrace, but it was too cold to stay there for long. I thought if we could at least get away from all the bodies in the ballroom, it might help.”
Damn, when did Damian learn to lie?
“Well, now you’re here, you should get back to your father. He’s spent the last half hour looking for the pair of you. Kit, I think he wants you to meet one of his business partners.”
Oh, goodie. At least I have a post-orgasmic glow to get me through yet another boring conversation about portfolios or whatever.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Leah,” Damian says firmly. “Kit was almost sick just now. I’m going to order us a taxi and get us home. You and Dad should stay, though. I’ll make sure Kit’s alright.”
Finally, some real concern fights its way past Mum’s irritation. “Are you okay, Kit? Do you need me to get you anything? I think I have some paracetamol in my bag.”
“No, I’m fine, Mum,” I smile weakly, hoping I look ill rather than guilty. “I just need to get to bed, I think.”
“Okay,” she says hesitantly. “I’d come with you, but you know how important these things are to Lucien.”
I wave her off, knowing she’ll want to be on hand in case her husband accidentally slips and falls into someone else’s vagina.
“Don’t worry, Damian will look after me.” I see the numpty puff up his chest, even when this whole debacle is a ruse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We hightail it out of the hotel as fast as we can while still maintaining my nauseous charade.
I almost don’t believe we’ll get out Scott-free, half expecting Lucien to jump out from behind a marble column with another associate in tow at any moment.
But, against all odds, we make it out of the hotel without anything more than a passing nod from Mr Stalk.
“So,” Damian purrs as we make our getaway. “Want to try what we just did again? Maybe on a bed this time?”
My lips twitch into a smile. “Well, I do happen to have an empty house we could use.”
“Perfect,” Damian winks, flagging down a black cab. “My room or yours?”