24. A Gamble Worth Taking
A Gamble Worth Taking
Nichole
I don’t hesitate. I don’t hold back. The moment Damian’s lips meet mine, everything falls into place.
The teasing, the power plays, the unspoken tension that’s been pressing against my ribs since the second I saw him at the casino—it all ignites in one, uncontrollable blaze.
I press into him, my fingers tangling in his dark, wavy hair, pulling him deeper, harder, needing so much more. His hands roam my back, sliding over the thin fabric of my dress before gripping my waist, his touch firm, possessive, sending a rush of heat straight to my core.
The air in the car is thick, too heavy to breathe, too hot to escape. I shift against him, my body molding into his, and he lets out a low, ragged curse. His lips break from mine for a second, just enough to drag in a breath, but I don’t stop.
I move lower, my lips skimming along his jaw, my breath hot against his skin as I whisper, “Take your winnings, Damian. Take me. Right here, right now.”
His eyes, piercing blue and hungry, lock onto mine. For a moment, the world outside the car disappears. There’s only him, only this, only the raw, electric connection between us.
His hands move from my waist down my legs and back up again, each time getting a little closer to the edge of my dress. I can feel his dick hardening against my thigh, the pressure building as he gets more excited.
I push him away just enough to give me room to move, my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re sure about this?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a hint of vulnerability in it too.
It’s the duality I’ve come to love about him—the ruthless mafia don and the man who’s tender when no one’s watching.
“Shut up and kiss me,” I snap back, my fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt.
He smirks, that dicky, magnetic smirk that makes my knees weak, and obliges. His lips crash into mine again, harder this time, more demanding. I taste the whiskey from earlier, the salt of his skin, the raw need that’s been simmering between us for weeks.
I slowly unbutton his shirt, each button revealing more of his tanned, muscular chest. His tattoos catch the dim light from the parking lot, glinting like secrets etched into his skin. I trace one with my fingertip, and he shudders, his breath hitching.
“Nichole,” he warns, but it’s not a stop. It’s a plea for more.
I lick his nipple, biting it softly. He gasps, his hands tightening on my hips.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his head falling back against the seat. I move my hand down to his belt, fumbling to get it open.
He helps, quickly removing it and tossing it aside. I unzip his pants, pushing them down just enough to reveal his hard dick. It’s thick, pulsing, begging to be touched.
I wrap my hand around his shaft, squeezing gently. He moans, his head falling back against the seat.
“You’re playing with fire,” he growls, but his voice is thick with desire.
I stroke him, feeling the smooth skin of his dick against my hand. He wraps his hand around mine, guiding me as I stroke him.
“Slow,” he commands, his voice hoarse. “Make it last.”
I lean down, taking him into my mouth. He tastes salty and sweet, the perfect combination. I swirl my tongue around his head, feeling him twitch in response. His hands tangle in my blonde hair, holding me there as I suck him deeper, my lips sliding down his length.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hips bucking slightly. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”
“Good,” I murmur against his skin, pulling away just enough to tease him. His eyes are dark, blown wide with need, and I revel in the power I have over him. For once, the man who controls everything is at my mercy.
His hands grip at the sides of my dress, pulling at the fabric. He wants me, needs me. I can feel it in his touch, in the way his body responds to mine. I sit up, straddling him.
I can feel his dick pressing against my panties, the thin fabric the only thing separating us. I grind against him, feeling the friction build between us.
“Take it off,” he demands, his voice rough. “Now.”
I smirk, leaning back slightly. “You sure you can handle it?”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a softness in his gaze that betrays his tough exterior. “Your about to find out.”
I sit up, just long enough to unzip my dress and let it slide off my shoulders. I wiggle it off until It pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my lacy black panties and heels. His eyes rake over me, slow and deliberate, taking in every curve, every inch of skin.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe. “You’re perfect.”
I straddle him again, my hands on his chest for balance. His hands move to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them. I arch my back, pressing my chest into his touch.
He leans forward, taking one nipple into his mouth. I gasp, my head falling back as he sucks and nips, his tongue teasing me mercilessly. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same attention, and I’m a mess of moans and shivers.
“Damian,” I pant, my hands gripping his shoulders. “I need you. Now.”
He smirks against my skin, his breath hot. “Begging already? I thought you were the one in control.”
I narrow my eyes, but I’m too far gone to play games. “Fuck. Just fuck me.”
He chuckles, but there’s no malice in it. He reaches around, unzipping my dress and pulling it off my shoulders. I shimmy out of it, tossing it aside.
His hands move to my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them. He leans forward, taking one nipple into his mouth. I gasp, arching my back. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same attention.
I can’t take it anymore. I need him inside me. I stand up, just long enough to remove my panties. I straddle him again, this time, there’s nothing between us. I guide his dick to my entrance, feeling the head press against me. I slowly lower myself onto him, feeling every inch of him fill me.
“Fuck,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips. “You’re so tight.”
I start to move, riding him slowly at first, savoring the way he stretches me, fills me. His hands guide me, his touch firm but gentle. I lean forward, kissing him, our tongues tangling together.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. I can feel his heart beating against my chest, his breath hot against my skin.
I ride him harder, faster, chasing my release. He moves his hand between us, his thumb finding my clit. He rubs it in circles, sending me over the edge.
“Damian,” I cry out, my body convulsing around him. He follows soon after, his dick pulsing as he releases inside me.
I collapse against him, our bodies slick with sweat. We stay like that for a moment, catching our breath. I can feel his heartbeat slow, his body relax.
I sit up, looking into his eyes. He smiles, a soft, satisfied smile. I’ve never felt more connected to anyone in my life.
The air inside the car is still charged, but it’s different now. It’s not the slow, simmering tension of a game waiting to be played—it’s the quiet, electric hum of something that has already been won.
My body still feels alive, wired, thrumming. I let myself soak in the quiet moment—the rare stillness after the storm.
But as his fingers trace the tattoo on my shoulder, his expression shifts. There’s a darkness there, a weight I don’t fully understand.
“Nichole,” he begins, his voice low, “there’s something you need to know.”
My heart skips a beat. “What is it?”
He hesitates as his hand runs down my back, slow, deliberate. His fingers graze over my bare skin where my dress has slipped, sending a final shiver down my spine. Then he looks into my eyes.
“This—us—it’s complicated. My world… it’s dangerous. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I smirk. “Am I worth the gamble?”
His chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my side. “You already know the answer to that.”
I tilt my head slightly, looking up at him, taking in the mess of his dark hair, the sharp angles of his jawline, the way his ocean-blue eyes hold a satisfaction that makes my stomach flip.
“Still,” I murmur. “It’s nice to hear.”
His grip tightens slightly on my waist, his voice dropping to something low and rough. “I don’t lose, princess.”
I let out a soft, breathy laugh, my fingers trailing down the collar of his shirt, slow and teasing. “Neither do I.”
Damian watches me, something dark flickering behind his gaze, something knowing.
He cups my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lower lip, his smirk dangerous. “Then we’re going to have a problem.”
I let my lips part slightly, exhaling against his touch. “Or we’re going to have a hell of a time.”
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to.
Because we both know it’s true.
The city lights blur past the window as Damian drives, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between us. The atmosphere in the car is different now—heavier, more certain.
The game we played all night, the push and pull, the reckless temptation, it’s no longer a question of if.
It’s a question of what happens next.
I rest my head against the seat, my fingers still tingling, my body still humming with the aftermath of everything that just happened. I should be tired. I should be spent. But instead, I feel wired, alive, wide awake.
Damian hasn’t said much since we left the quiet road, but he doesn’t need to. His presence is enough.
The way his fingers drum against the steering wheel in thought, the way his gaze flicks toward me between streetlights, like he’s debating something, like he’s working out his next move.
And I know why.
Because outside of this car, reality is waiting for us.
The weight of it settles in my chest, but I refuse to let it kill the moment. Instead, I tilt my head slightly, watching him with a smirk. “You’re quiet. That’s new.”
He exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m thinking.”
I raise a brow. “That could be dangerous.”
His smirk returns, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not entirely. “You have no idea.”
I shift, turning toward him slightly, watching him more carefully now. “You’re not regretting this, are you?”