Chapter 4 #3
“You’re just doing this for attention!” he adds. “If it’s real, kiss him!”
There’s a ripple through the crowd—laughter, curiosity, cameras shifting direction.
My jaw tightens.
“Fuck off,” I shoot back before I can stop myself.
It’s automatic.
Protective.
Not smart.
Security moves in a little closer, trying to keep things moving, but the damage is already done. More voices pick up on it, repeating it, feeding it.
“Kiss him!”
“Yeah, prove it!”
I don’t even look at them again.
I just pull Damien forward. “Come on,” I say, low and firm. “Ignore them.”
We reach the car.
The driver’s already opening the door.
I let go of Damien just long enough to guide him inside.
He ducks in without a word.
I follow immediately after, sliding into the seat and pulling the door shut behind us.
The noise dulls.
For a second, all I can hear is my own breathing.
“Sorry about that,” I start, turning toward him. “I didn’t mean to?—”
Before I can finish the sentence, Damien shifts forward, one hand bracing against the seat, the other catching my shoulder.
Then he’s in my lap, his knees caging my hips against the seat.
My brain doesn’t catch up in time.
My hands come up instinctively, catching his hips to steady him, my breath punching out of my chest in surprise.
“What—”
He doesn’t answer. He just kisses me.
Not like before. There’s no measure and control. There’s nothing careful about this.
His mouth crashes against mine, firm and insistent, like he’s proving something—like he’s still got control even when everything else is slipping.
My grip tightens on his hips, pulling him closer without thinking, anchoring him there like I need him to stay. His breath catches slightly against my mouth, and there’s a low sound—barely there, but enough to send something sharp down my spine.
My fingers dig into his back, wrinkling his nice shirt.
His tongue slips into my mouth, coaxing mine into his. Fuck, he tastes like wine and that lemon sorbet we were served at the restaurant.
He moans again, biting my lip. This isn’t for the cameras anymore.
My head tilts instinctively, deepening the angle, the contact, the?—
Christ, I lose track of everything else.
The car.
The crowd.
The fact that we’re supposed to stop once we’re out of view of the restaurant.
We don’t.
We keep going.
His hand slides up, fingers threading into my hair and gripping just enough to ground me, to hold me there. Damien’s ass starts grinding against me, and all my blood flows to my dick.
Thank God the privacy wall is up in the car, or I would feel terrible for the driver.
I pull him closer again, my hands sliding down to cup his ass, holding him there like I don’t trust the moment not to disappear if I loosen my grip.
He shifts against me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m hard as a rock.
My hands flex, instinctively tightening again as I try to get a handle on it, on myself, on?—
“Damien…” I break just enough to get the word out, my breathing uneven. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
My head tips back slightly against the seat as I try to breathe, but he follows, his mouth still there, still—God.
I groan against him, pushing my erection against his ass.
I wonder if he’d let me take his shirt off.
I wonder if he’d show me that tattoo that’s so low on his groin he’d have to strip for me to see it.
This is not what I was expecting tonight to turn into.
My hands travel to his face as I shove him down onto the seat cushions.
The way he feels.
The way he’s moving.
The way I—oh, fuck. I’m bi, aren’t I?
I suck in a breath, finally pulling back just enough to speak, my voice rougher than I intended. “I’m sorry,” I manage, quieter now. “I didn’t…this is…” I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.
His once neat dark curls are now disheveled. His cheeks are tinted pink, his lips swollen.
I want to kiss him again. And maybe a few other things, but the giant tent in my pants is between us like a fucking elephant in the room. I pull off of him, readjusting myself in my pants.
“I’m sorry. I know it was for the cameras, but I got…” What? Carried away? So turned on that I wanted to fuck you in this moving car?
He sits up, the wine making his eyes glaze over in a soft way. If he keeps looking at me like that, I might bust in my pants.
“I’d be offended if you didn’t react to that.” His eyes are on my crotch.
I blink.“That’s…” I huff out a breath, half a laugh, half something else entirely. “That’s not helping.”
His mouth twitches slightly. Not quite a smile, but something sharper and more dangerous.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice lower now.
His hands trace up my thighs, higher and higher, until I can feel my cock aching toward them.
“Dame, come on. You’re killing me.” I laugh half-heartedly.
I glance out the window; we’re probably twenty minutes from my place.
His hand rubs against me, and I can fucking tell it’s a skilled hand.
An embarrassing whine escapes my throat.
“I always could tell you were big, but this…” Damien strokes me through my pants again. “Is a nice surprise.”
My legs spread instinctively. I loosen my tie, trying to find something to do with my hands. “Nowhere in the contract does it say you can torture me.”
Damien glances out the window. “I think I see a few cameras. Let’s put on a show.”
His fingers undo my belt quickly, slightly stumbling over the buttons of my pants. What the fuck am I doing? I should probably stop this. Say this is crossing a boundary and call it a night.
But fuck, I want to see what he looks like choking on my cock.
His hands pull me out, gently stroking up my shaft. I press my head back into the leather seat, trying to keep the embarrassing sounds to a minimum. I’m normally very vocal, but I would die if the driver knew what we were doing back here.
Damien’s tongue traces along the seam of my dick before fully swallowing me, which is a feat. Women have tried sucking me off, and it was nice, don’t get me wrong! But this—Damien—is something else.
He hums against me, making my cock twitch against his tongue. My fingers lace through his messy curls, and they’re just as soft as I imagined. Damien seems to relax as he pushes himself farther down my cock, fully fitting myself into his throat.
“Fuuuck.” I cover my eyes with my palm.
Damien squeezes my thighs like he’s pleased that he’s elicited such a reaction from me.
I want to touch him, but I don’t know if he wants me to.
I can’t fucking tell what this is supposed to be.
If this were fake, he probably would have just bent over and pretended to get me off for the cameras.
Giving me head was definitely not in the contract, but I’m not going to say no.
He adds his hand to the mix, chasing his trail of saliva up my shaft as he works the head with his mouth.
“Damien, I’m gonna—you should slow down.” I’m panting like a dog in heat. My skin is itching to get out of these stuffy clothes and feel every bit of Damien.
Damien doesn’t stop. If anything, my words encourage him to go faster and faster, until I’m coming down his throat.
My teeth sink into my fist to keep me from moaning too loud.
His throat constricts around me like he’s—oh fuck, is he swallowing?
I need to get out of this car before I start kissing him again.
When he releases me, he gently tucks me back into my pants and does up the buttons as I watch.
He doesn’t meet my eyes, just wipes the corners of his mouth and says, “I don’t think people will be doubting us now. There was a paparazzi car following us.”
Immediately, my heart jerks in my chest. “Good thinking.”
“Was that too far? I felt bad that I got you hard, so I wanted to help you out.” Damien adjusts his clothes, like this is just another hookup for him.
He felt bad, so he gave me head? Is this the same Damien I’ve been playing with for over a year now? I mean, I knew he liked to have fun, but I guess I didn’t understand that sex wasn’t an intimate thing for him.
I blush, barely able to keep my thoughts together. “No, it was…uh. Yeah, it was good.”
“Good.” Damien finally meets my eyes then, that bashful almost-smile creeping onto his mouth. “Also, you’ve redeemed yourself. You’re a great kisser.”
I laugh. I can’t believe this is happening. “You think so?”
He lounges back in his seat. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, Connors.”
Ah, yes, there’s the Damien I know.
The car pulls up to my condo, and part of me almost asks Damien to follow me inside, but I don’t.
I get out of the car, standing by the open door for a beat before pulling Damien to me by his suit jacket and kissing him deeply. He makes a surprised sound, but melts immediately under my lips.
When we detach, I say quietly against his mouth, “For the cameras.”