Chapter 9
LYRA
Ifelt like I was doing great controlling the extremely volatile situation presented before me, but alas, it takes less than ten seconds for us to start making out once we’re back in the limo.
I don’t remember who leans in first, but it hardly matters now.
All I’m aware of is Damien reaching up and pressing a button.
The privacy partition rises without a sound, sealing us in.
The second it clicks into place, his hands are on my thighs, sliding up my dress.
His hand slips beneath the hem, his fingers spreading over my bare skin as if he has every right to touch me. And I let him. I let him because I can’t stop him, not with the way I’m already gripping the front of his shirt and my knees angle toward him in the narrow space between us.
His mouth is slow, measured, and controlled, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. I feel the edge building with every stroke of his tongue, every sharp breath between kisses. His self-restraint unravels, and somehow that makes it worse in the best way.
He pulls me toward him until I’m practically on his lap, one arm braced behind my back, the other sliding higher up my thigh. I gasp into his mouth when he reaches the line of my panties, and he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
His voice drops low.
“May I touch you?”
There’s not a single part of me that hesitates.
“Yes.”
It comes out more breath than sound, but it’s enough to convey my consent. He grips the back of my neck and kisses me again. Deeper this time. I melt into him like my body already knows where it belongs. His fingers graze the lace, and I know he feels how much I already want him.
“Fuck,” he murmurs. “I need to feel you.”
I pull him closer and grind my core against him, trying to convey how much I need him to feel me too.
He is rock hard already, and very large.
The thought of someone so endowed and experienced being inside me excited me, and I put even more desire into my movements.
Slowly, far too slowly and far too gently, his finger slips under the fabric and pushes into me.
It’s all I can do not to scream at the sensation.
My hips roll against his finger as his lips trail down my neck. His other hand reaches out to cup one breast, and I wish he would do more. But this isn’t exactly the ideal space for it, and too soon the driver is pulling up to his building.
Damien doesn’t even glance out the window. He adjusts the straps of my dress, pulls my panties back into place, straightens his cuffs, and helps me out of the car as if his hand wasn’t between my legs two minutes ago.
I can barely stand with how much I want him. I feel my excitement pooling between my legs, and I’m sure his doorman notices the way I’m walking. But thankfully, I don’t have to wait long before we’re alone again.
Once the elevator doors slide shut behind us, it’s like we’re back in the car.
His mouth is on me before I even catch my breath.
This time, he presses me against the mirrored wall, his hands skating down my sides, his mouth rougher than before.
I grip the back of his neck, my hips arching forward without permission.
“You’re going to ruin me,” I whisper.
His mouth brushes my ear. “That’s the idea.”
The elevator glides to a stop, but neither of us moves.
He pulls back just long enough to press his thumb to a security panel.
The doors open to a space I don’t have time to admire.
I catch a glimpse of high ceilings, dark floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows.
I think there’s a fireplace, and possibly a staircase.
But he doesn’t give me any time to really take it in.
Damien guides me backward through the main room, never breaking eye contact, until the backs of my knees hit a couch I hadn’t seen. He kisses me again, one hand on my face, the other sliding down my back, gripping my waist to hold me steady.
I don’t even realize he’s unzipping my dress until it slips from my shoulders.
My hands are already under his shirt, dragging it free from his waistband, nails lightly raking his stomach. His breath hitches, and something shifts between us. There’s far less patience and far more need.
He steps back just long enough to strip off his shirt and pull my dress the rest of the way off. I stand there in nothing but my underwear, my heels still on, and for the first time all night, he says nothing.
He just looks at me.
I see it in his face, the hunger, the heat, the decision. He wants to take his time, but he also wants to ravage me. And I want that too, but before we can go any further, I know I have to warn him. I put a hand to his chest to keep him from kissing me.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say softly. “Before we go any further.”
His face shifts to concern, and he takes a small step back. He’s so damn respectful it almost makes me melt.
“You can tell me anything,” he responds earnestly.
“This is so stupid,” I huff. “But I’m a virgin.”
This clearly takes him by surprise. He stares at me for a moment before closing the distance between us again.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his hand running cautiously down my arm.
“No,” I tell him quickly. “I definitely don’t want that. I just don’t want you to be disappointed or anything.”
He cocks his head at me and smirks in a way I don’t entirely understand.
“Lyra,” he nearly growls. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you were trying.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I wrap my arms around him and erase any space between us before murmuring, “Bedroom?”
He dips, catching the backs of my knees with his arm and picking me up bridal-style. I can’t help the girly laugh that slips out. He steals my breath. I start kissing his jaw as he carries us down a hall and into a dark room.
He lowers me onto a soft bed.
“We can go as slowly as you want,” he whispers against my skin.
I nod, suddenly very aware of how exposed I am in only my underwear, my body humming, my nerves pulled tight beneath my skin.
He just kisses me again. Softer now. Slower, like he’s savoring me.
He takes his time, setting a rhythm my body has never known but already wants to follow.
He kisses the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then lower. His hands don’t wander. Not yet. He touches me with intention. No surprises. No pressure.
And that’s what makes me melt.
His mouth finds the hollow of my throat and lingers there. I close my eyes, one hand drifting up to tangle in his hair, the other clutching the edge of the sheets as if they’re the only thing keeping me grounded.
“Let me know if anything feels wrong,” he murmurs.
“Okay.”
“And if you change your mind,” he says seriously. “I’ll stop the second you ask me to.”
“I won’t,” I whisper.
His mouth brushes my skin again, drifting lower this time.
He peels the rest of my underwear away, slowly and carefully, like he’s unwrapping a much-anticipated gift.
When I’m bare beneath him, he sits back to look at me.
His gaze drags over my body, slow and reverent, like he’s committing every inch of me to memory.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
I try to laugh. “You probably say that to all the women.”
“Lyra,” he says sternly. “You are the only woman I’m looking at right now, and you are stunning.”
His fingers trail down my side, slow and warm, and my body arches toward him before I even realize I’m moving. He kisses me again as his hand glides between my thighs, his touch gentle, tracing over me with featherlight precision.
I gasp when he finds the spot that makes my hips buck. He circles my clit slowly, watching me the whole time. My hands grip his forearm, half to guide him, half to keep myself steady.
The buildup is maddening and perfect.
He slips one finger inside again, just as he did in the car, then stills.
“Is this okay?”
I nod, too breathless to speak.
He moves slowly, carefully, learning what I respond to, adjusting with every sigh, every twitch of my hips. I lose track of time. I stop trying to think. All I know right now is how he makes me feel.
The pressure builds slowly, maddeningly, and when I finally come, it’s quiet and shattering and everything at once. I cry out before I can stop myself, hips lifting off the bed as my whole body tightens and releases under his hand.
He holds me through it, leaving tender kisses down my shoulders, arms, and hands.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes. God, yes. You’re incredible.”
I run my hands over his chest, then lower, anticipating the grand prize.
“I want more,” I tell him breathlessly. “I want you inside me.”
He lifts his head, watching me closely. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I almost beg.
He kisses me once more before reaching for the drawer. I watch as he rolls a condom on, then settles between my legs again, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. He doesn’t rush.
And when he finally pushes inside, it’s very careful, very slow, and very steady.
I tense a little, instinctively.
“Breathe,” he whispers.
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath, but follow his order.
He watches me the whole time, adjusting as he goes, waiting for me to catch up, to open around him, to let him in. Never once does he drop his mask of control, yet I know that I’m the one in charge here.
When he’s fully inside me, we both freeze.
I’ve never felt anything like this. I feel so full and so stretched in the best way.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him close, grounding myself in the press of his chest, the feel of his breath against my neck.
He moves in shallow strokes at first, watching my face, and slowly, something shifts.
I begin to move with him, greedily desiring all the unfamiliar pleasure taking over my body.
He groans against my skin, his pace deepening as my legs wrap around his hips.
I don’t know when the pain fades. All I know is that it’s not there now.
There’s only heat and pressure, followed by the ache of something building again.
He murmurs something I don’t catch. It sounds like my name.
We move together in an unhurried rhythm. I kiss every inch of him I can reach and grab for purchase against his taut skin.
The rise of an orgasm quickly builds inside me, and I’m almost afraid of the mountainous pleasure he was taking me to. I almost tell him to stop, embarrassed of the way everything was feeling, but fuck did it feel so good.
“Come for me.” He directs, sensing the way my body yearned for release.
I close my eyes, squeezing myself around him.
I’m soon moaning inexplicable words and curses, unable to handle the immense outburst of pleasure taking over me.
I grow limp with my release, and his strokes become slick with my juices.
He laces his hand with mine, his body still moving, slow and strong and unrelenting.
I enter a state of pleasantness, letting my body just feel the aftermath as he begins to gain pace and fuck me. He follows not long after, gasping against my throat, my name on his lips. His whole body goes rigid, with a meaningful strokes, then softens above me.
He doesn’t roll away yet. He holds me there, his hand still wrapped around mine, our legs tangled together. I feel his breath steadying as I try to catch my own.
I don’t know how long we stay like that. It’s long enough to feel the room fade around us. Long enough to know that I’ll never forget tonight as long as I live.
Eventually, he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m incredible,” I confirm.
His smile is subtle and sleepy.
He kisses me once more, then reaches for the blanket and pulls it over us.
I curl into his side, my head resting on his chest, and let myself feel everything.
Definitely not too bad for my first time.