15. Into the Mansion #2
Instead, she looked back at the empty sky, her reflection barely visible against the blackness.
Then, quietly, she said, “That’s… kind of sad.”
I smirked. “I never said it wasn’t.”
She shook her head slightly, still watching me.
Then, after a long pause, she asked, “What happens when you do figure it out?”
I didn’t have an answer.
Or maybe… I just wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
The warmth of the lounge wrapped around us like an unseen presence, but something had shifted. Nichole’s expression was softer now, more thoughtful, as she stood by the darkened window, her fingers tracing invisible patterns along the glass.
She was still processing what I had said—about the unfinished parts of this place, about the things I couldn’t control.
Her gaze flickered back to mine, steady, searching. “Have you ever brought anyone else here?”
The question was quiet, but it carried weight.
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I crossed the room, resting a hand on the back of one of the velvet chairs, my fingers pressing into the fabric. “No.”
The truth settled between us, heavy and unshaken.
Nichole inhaled slowly, nodding as if she had already suspected the answer. “Why me, then?”
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “Because you’re different.”
It wasn’t enough of an answer. Not for her. Not for me.
She stepped away from the window, closing the space between us. “Damian…” Her voice was softer now, edged with something unreadable. “This place—it feels like it’s changing.”
She wasn’t wrong. The Dream Room had always been mine—a space I could shape, control. But Nichole’s presence had shifted something. The mansion was beginning to take on a life of its own, molding itself to her as much as it had to me.
I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “I don’t know what it means.”
Nichole tilted her head slightly. “Maybe it means you’re not as alone as you think you are.”
I looked at her then—really looked at her. She wasn’t just saying that for my benefit. She believed it.
And something about that belief made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t understand.
Before I could respond, she reached for my hand. Her fingers curled around mine, warm and steady.
“Show me more,” she whispered.
I didn’t hesitate.
We left the lounge behind, moving through the mansion’s twisting corridors. The flickering sconces cast long, shifting shadows across the walls, the marble beneath our feet cool against our steps.
Nichole followed without question, her grip firm, her trust in me unwavering despite the fact that this world—my world—should have been impossible.
We stopped outside a new set of double doors, heavier than the others. Their ornate carvings gleamed under the dim lighting, intricate patterns swirling in a language only the Dream Room understood.
I pushed them open, revealing the heart of the mansion.
A grand bedroom stretched before us, its canopy bed draped in deep, luxurious fabrics, the kind that absorbed the golden glow of the chandeliers above.
The scent of something rich—amber and smoke—lingered in the air.
A massive fireplace crackled at the far end, its flames casting slow-moving shadows along the towering bookshelves that lined the walls.
Nichole hesitated at the threshold, her lips parting slightly as she took it all in. “This… this is your room.”
She wasn’t asking.
I stepped inside, releasing her hand only long enough to pull her with me. “Yes.”
Her fingers brushed over the edge of the nearest bookshelf, tracing the spine of a book absentmindedly. “It feels different from the rest of the mansion.”
I watched her carefully. “How so?”
She turned toward me, her gaze thoughtful. “The other rooms—they’re vast, grand, like they were designed to impress. But this?” She glanced around again, shaking her head slightly. “This feels personal.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I had built this room as a sanctuary within the sanctuary. A space meant for no one else but me.
And now—she was standing in it.
Nichole walked toward the fireplace, holding her hands out to the warmth. The firelight danced over her skin, casting golden hues along the delicate curve of her face.
Then, slowly, she turned back to me.
I didn’t move.
Neither did she.
The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of things neither of us was saying.
Nichole exhaled softly, her fingers flexing at her sides. “Damian.”
Just my name. But that was enough.
I crossed the space between us in two strides, my hand lifting to tilt her chin up. Her breath hitched, her pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips.
“Dimmi che mi vuoi.” Tell me you want me.
Her lips parted slightly, the heat between us tangible, pressing.
My lips gently met hers, soft and hesitant at first, as if we were both wary of disrupting the fragile equilibrium between us.
However, as the kiss grew more intense, so did our yearning for one another.
Her lips felt warm and enticing, and I relished the flavor of her—an enticing blend of desire and purity.
Nichole responded with a fervor that matched my own.
Her touch was like a flame, igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both.
I pulled her closer, feeling the softness of her curves against my hard frame, eliminating the last traces of distance as the kiss became a battle of passion, each of us claiming the other.
Breaking away, I whispered against her lips, my breath hot on her skin. "You have no idea how much I want you," I growled, my voice hoarse with desire.
She blinked slowly and with seduction in her eyes, she grabbed the bulge in my pants. “I think I have an idea,” she said as she licked her lips.
At that moment, I was ready to utterly dominate her, to give her a pleasure far beyond what she experienced our first time.
But before I could act on my impulses, she put her pointer finger to my lips to silence me.
“I know what you're thinking. But that’s not going to happen.
As she slid to her knees in front of me and pulled down my pants, she said, "This time I’m going to please you. You're not the only one with skills."
My dick was straining against my boxers so hard it felt like they were going to rip apart. When she pulled them down, it sprang to attention, slapping her across the face. Instead of ruining the moment, she wrapped both of her hands around the shaft, as if she were a singer gripping the microphone.
She leaned in, her warm breath caressing the head before taking me into her mouth, her lips sliding down my shaft.
The sensation of her mouth on me was exquisite, her tongue swirling around the head, her lips tight around my girth.
I groaned, my hands tangling in her hair, as she took me deeper, her throat working my length.
I wanted to thrust into her mouth, to fuck her face, but I held back, wanting to savor this moment, to let her take control.
I stood there, my body on fire, as Nichole's skilled mouth worked its magic.
The warmth of the fireplace bathed us, creating an intimate atmosphere right there in the grand mansion's living room.
Her lips, so soft and full, wrapped around my dick, sent shivers down my spine.
I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation, feeling her tongue swirl and tease, taking me deeper with each stroke.
Nichole's hands gently cupped my balls, rolling them with her fingertips, adding to the overwhelming pleasure. I groaned, my hands instinctively tangling in her blonde hair, the soft strands contrasting with my rough grip.
"That's it, baby," I growled, my voice hoarse. "Suck me, take me deep."
She hummed in response, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. Then she licked down to my balls as she slid them into her mouth, stroking my slick shaft from the base all the way to the tip of the head.
Nichole's eyes met mine, a challenge in her gaze as she sucked and licked, her hand continuously pumping my shaft.
I could feel my orgasm building, my balls tightening with the need to release, to surrender to the sensations she was creating.
But I wanted more; I needed to feel her in every way possible.
With a gentle tug, I guided her away from my swollen balls, leaving her with a trail of kisses along my shaft.
Her eyes, a deep brown, sparkled with mischief as she looked up at me, her lips glistening with my essence.
I pulled her up, claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss, tasting myself on her tongue.
"I want you, Nichole," I growled against her lips. "Now."
She giggled, a playful glint in her eyes. "Your wish is my command."
I didn't bother carrying her to the bed.
The fire in my veins was too intense, the need too urgent.
Instead, I lowered her onto the soft rug in front of the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow on her flawless skin.
Her curvy body, with those wide hips and that perfect ass, was a sight to behold.
I positioned myself between her thighs, my dick throbbing as I hovered over her entrance.
Nichole's eyes fluttered shut, her breath coming in quick gasps as she anticipated the invasion.
With one swift thrust, I buried myself, balls deep inside her, our bodies becoming one.
She let out a soft moan, her nails digging into my back, leaving marks that would remind me of this moment.
I began to move, my strokes long and deep, each one hitting her sweet spot.
Her back arched off the floor, her breasts straining towards me, the rub burns on her skin a testament to the intensity of our passion.
I leaned down, capturing a nipple between my teeth, tugging gently as I continued to thrust.
"You feel so fucking good," I whispered, my breath hot against her skin. "So tight around me."