Chapter 22 Noah #2
I can’t look at him, can’t look anywhere but down. Shame floods my chest, sticky and heavy, and I can’t breathe. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, cheeks burning. “I know it’s weird. I shouldn’t have—”
The sound Damien makes isn’t a laugh. It’s a low, rough groan, ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. Before I can move, his hands are on my waist, gripping me hard.
He leans in, pressing his lips to my stomach, open-mouthed and hungry, and suddenly all my nerves are lit up for an entirely different reason.
“Don’t you dare apologize. Goddamn…” He runs his hands up, fingers spreading across my stomach, holding me in place. His eyes flick up to mine, pupils blown. “You’re stunning.”
I stare, lips parted, still lost in confusion and embarrassment. “Damien—”
“Is it a set?” His eyes are wild, searching mine, hungry and worshipful, and on the edge of losing it. “Tell me, baby. Are you wearing matching panties under your sweats?”
I nod, swallowing hard, cheeks burning so fiercely I’m sure he can feel the heat coming off me. “Yeah. I—I am.”
He lets out another strangled groan, burying his face against my stomach for a second, hands sliding up my sides. “You’re going to kill me,” he mutters, voice shaking. “You’re actually going to fucking kill me.”
He looks up and cups my jaw in one big, shaking hand.
“You’re so gorgeous, Noah. You know that?
You don’t ever have to hide from me. I want you—every part of you.
This…” he trails off as he traces the lace with his thumb, eyes gentle but still so full of heat it makes me ache.
“...is so fucking hot I can’t even think straight. ”
I’m blushing so hard my ears burn, but I don’t flinch; not with the way he’s looking at me. “You really… like it?”
“I love it. Fuck, you could wear anything, and I’d still want you, but this?” He sucks in a stuttered breath. “Thank you for letting me see you. I know that’s not easy. I know it costs you something to be this open with me, but I want you to know I’m honored, Blue. I’m so fucking honored.”
A surge of relief floods me, chasing the shame right out of my chest. I can’t tell if I’m melting from embarrassment or arousal, but either way, I don’t stop him when his mouth keeps moving lower.
He doesn’t go further than the waistband of my sweats, but the kisses trail along the curve of my hip, each one soft until he reaches my neck again and places a kiss on my lips.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” he whispers. “Nothing you’re not ready for. I won’t take anything else off unless you ask. I just want to touch you. Make you feel good. Let you know how much you’re wanted. How much I see you.”
I nod, clutching his shoulder, surrendering to the thrill of letting him have me, letting him see me, want me, cherish every part of me I used to hide.
He places more slow kisses down my sternum, always making sure I’m with him. He groans again, a sound that vibrates through his chest, through me, and I realize I’m not embarrassed anymore. I’m wanted. Fiercely, fully, without question.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Babygirl,” Damien whispers, voice unsteady. “Don’t ever hide from me again. You’re mine. All of you. Every damn inch.”
The word Babygirl lands between us—a spark in dry grass. For a split second, I freeze, shocked at how it sounds coming from him, how it sounds wrapped around me. My breath comes out shaky, and Damien’s mouth curls into a slow, dangerous smile as he realizes just what he’s done.
“Oh, you like that?” he murmurs, voice just a rasp of smoke as his fingers trace the lace again, thumb dipping just beneath the band. “Yeah, you do. Look at you preening, pretty thing.”
I shudder, unable to stop the sound that leaves me. He smiles, but it’s not the cocky smirk he gives the world. It’s wrecked and honest, as if I’ve undone something in him just by existing.
“I didn’t know it’d feel this way,” I whisper, breath hitching when his nose brushes my neck. “I thought I’d be embarrassed. I thought you’d laugh, or—or think it’s weird.”
He pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Never. There’s nothing weird about you or needing to dress like this to feel beautiful and safe.
You wearing lace is hot, but you being yourself is the sexiest fucking thing in the world to me.
You trusting me with this?” He drags his fingers slowly down to my hips, pressing his mouth to the dip between them. “That’s a fucking privilege.”
I close my eyes, letting the sensation roll through me. I want to be brave and give him everything. “You can… You can take off my sweats. If you want,” I manage, voice barely more than a whisper.
Damien just stares, as if the invitation’s stolen the air out of his lungs. His fingers twitch against my hips, breath shallow. “You want me to see you?”
I nod, cheeks flaming. “Yeah. I want you to.”
He grins, a feral, delighted thing, and presses his mouth to the edge of the bralette again, nipping lightly. “You tell me to stop, I stop. Anything you don’t want, you say the word. You control this, Blue.”
“I know. I trust you,” I say, heart pounding as he slips his fingers into the waistband of my sweats, pausing, waiting one last beat for me to stop him.
I just bite my lip and nod, the anticipation so sharp it’s almost sweet.
I can feel every inch of air on my legs, every shift of the bed as he kneels between my knees.
And then he sees me: lace and skin and the way my cock strains against the powder-blue lace boyshorts. I can feel Damien’s gaze everywhere at once, scorching and gentle, eyes devouring the sight of me stretched out and waiting.
His reaction is instant—pure hunger and adoration as his eyes sweep over me, not missing a thing. His hand finds the swell of my thigh, the lace pulled tight, and he squeezes gently.
“Holy fuck.”