Chapter 27 Noah #2
He notices that too—his other hand slides up, fingers curling around the metal, tugging it just enough that I gasp.
“Wearing a collar now?” he says, breath hot at my ear. “You want to be owned that badly, baby? Want everyone to know who you belong to?”
My body jerks against him, shame and arousal sparking through me. “Yours,” I breathe. “Please—Damien—please.”
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips soft at the corner of my mouth. “I’m gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so fucking good.”
He strokes me lazily, thumb teasing the tip, catching the mess there and spreading it down my cock in wet, easy circles that make me whimper. He doesn’t rush; he just touches while I pant and grind into his hand, making a mess.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” he confesses against my skin. “Used to fuck my fist to the thought of what you’d sound like riding me. Didn’t think I’d get to know, but now look at you wearing lace for me. Riding me. Leaking all over my hand. You like being dirty for me, don’t you?”
My breath stutters, heat rushing straight to my face and spreading through me. I nod without even realizing I’m doing it, desperate and pliant just for him.
He lifts his slick fingers and presses them to my lips. “Open.”
I do it without hesitation. He slides them in slowly, and I suck them, moaning around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut as I taste myself, shame and want tangling so tightly I can’t tell them apart.
Damien shudders beneath me, pulling his hand free with a sharp breath. “Jesus, Blue,” he mutters. “You look too fucking good with my fingers in your mouth.”
He grips my hips and guides me off his lap. “Turn around and get on your hands and knees. Let me look at what’s mine.”
My breath hitches hard. “O-okay,” I say, voice small and shaky, but my body’s already moving. I slide off him and turn on the bed, crawling forward on my hands and knees. The jockstrap rides up and exposes me in a way that makes my skin buzz and my stomach flip.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, cheeks burning, and watching as his eyes drag over me—over the curve of my back and the swell of my ass framed by the jockstrap.
“You were built to be worshipped.” His hand comes down, squeezing one cheek hard enough to make me gasp. “This belongs to me, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s yours.”
He bites his bottom lip and spreads me just a little wider, thumbs pressing into the muscle.
“Arch for me, Babygirl,” he commands. “Show off for me. I want to see that pretty little hole quiver when I praise it.”
I hesitate for half a second—enough to feel brave for doing it anyway—then push my chest down and lift my ass, spine curving the way he wants. The position makes everything feel exposed and open. I suck in a breath when his hands tighten, fingers digging in hard.
I feel obscene. Beautiful. His.
“Good girl,” he breathes, and the praise wrecks me. “That’s it. Stay right there. Let me look at you.”
I whimper, unable to stop my hips from rocking back against nothing. His hands slide across my ass possessively, then dip between my thighs, brushing against the soaked stretch of fabric clinging to me.
“And this cock that puts mine to shame,” he mutters. “Fucking massive. Look at it leaking all over the bed. I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
“Damien—”
He spreads me open and hums. “You ache when I talk like this, don’t you?” His voice drops to a gravelly murmur. “Gets you harder when I say filthy things about this pretty hole. When I tell you how fucking sweet you look bent over for me.”
I nod, face pressed into the mattress and biting my lip so hard I taste blood.
“I knew it,” he says, smug and breathless. Then his mouth is on me—tongue dragging over the crease of my ass, hot and wet, and I choke on a moan that rips straight from my throat.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he groans, voice muffled as he dives back in. “Sweet and filthy. My favorite fucking combo.”
His tongue circles my hole, then pushes in, making me cry out into the mattress, hips jerking back against his face. He groans again, louder this time, and I know he loves the way I move for him. His grip tightens, keeping me open, keeping me still, even as my moans get loud.
“That’s it,” he murmurs between kisses. “Let me hear who this pussy belongs to.”
My breath’s coming in uneven little gasps by the time he pulls back, one of his hands smoothing up my spine again, grounding me in that quiet way he always does. He knows exactly how far I can go and won’t let me fall unless I want to.
“You still okay, Blue?” He asks, kissing the backs of my thighs.
I nod too fast at first, still trembling. “Yeah. Yeah, just—wait.”
He stills immediately, and his hands loosen on my thighs, the pressure gentler. “Did I hurt you?”
Jesus, he switches from dirty to sweet and caring so fast that it nearly gives me whiplash.
“No,” I say quickly, breath catching as I lower myself slowly onto my side. I twist to face him, heart slamming against my ribs because I know he’s going to misread this if I don’t say something now. “No. It’s not like that. I just… I want to do something.”
He frowns, concern tightening the lines of his face. “What do you mean?”
I sit up fully, turning around to face him. I can still feel the ghost of his mouth between my legs. Still feel the wet heat, the hum of his voice when he moaned against me. My thighs are trembling, my lips kiss-bruised, and every part of me is lit up.
I reach for his face, brushing my thumb across the edge of his jaw. “I want to make you feel good too.”
His brows furrow. “What?”
“I’ve never…” My voice falters, “I’ve never done anything with anyone before you.”
His hand rises to cup my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, and I lean into the touch. “I know, baby, but—”
“I want to,” I say, firmer this time. “I want to do something for you. You always take care of me, and it’s not that I don’t love that, it’s just—” My throat tightens.
“I want you to teach me how you like it. I want to know what you sound like when you lose control. I want to feel your hands in my hair and see what it does to you when I’m the one on my knees. ”
Damien blinks, and his pupils blow wide again, throat bobbing with a hard swallow. “Jesus Christ, baby.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be good at it,” I admit, my voice small. “But I want to try. I want to learn you.”
He exhales shakily, both hands coming up to cradle my face, and he leans in until our foreheads touch. “You wanna learn, my sweet girl?”
I nod.
“Then get on your knees.”