“That’s it, little moon,” he groans. “Take it all.”
I can hardly breathe, but I try to relax my throat as he pushes deeper, fighting my gag reflex. Tears spring to my eyes as he keeps fucking my mouth, harder and faster.
“Look at me.”
I lift my eyes to meet his, noticing the raw hunger in them. My arousal intensifies, and I hollow my cheeks, sucking him in deeper.
He groans loudly. “Fuck,” he pants. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
Damien continues his steady rhythm, his hips rocking as he fucks my mouth, until I can feel his cock swelling.
“I’m going to come, little moon,” he growls, his voice filled with pleasure. “Are you ready for it?”
I feel the warmth splatter into my mouth and down my throat, some spilling out onto my T-shirt. His breathing is heavy and primal, matching the wild rhythm of my heart.
He pulls out, and we stare at each other before he snarls, “Get out.”
I get up, walk out, and stare at the bathroom door after it slams shut behind me. My lips are swollen, my shirt’s a mess, and I don’t know if I want to scream, sob, or sink to my knees and beg him to do it again.
I grab a T-shirt from his clean pile of laundry on his dresser and bolt through the corridors, my breath coming out in short bursts. The door of my room slams shut behind me, and for a moment, I lean against it, trying to slow down the frantic drumming in my chest.
“Did that just happen?”
I brush my teeth.
Twice.
I don’t want anyone commenting on… dick breath.
Is that even a thing?
And after having a heart-to-heart with my reflection, because who else am I going to talk to? I slip into Damien’s black tee, hating myself for wanting it against my skin.
I bury my nose in the fabric and inhale deeply, then again, and again. I’m sniffing it like a drug-sniffing dog on a caffeine high, ensuring no hint of his scent lingering in the fibers.
It smells like detergent, no hint of Damien.
Safe. Empty.
I’m out of clean ones, owning only three, and there’s no way in hell I’m wearing anything with Damien’s cum on it.
I change my underwear and put on my leggings, then I scamper back downstairs, trying to act like I didn’t just have a close encounter of the Damien kind.
When I reach the kitchen, I expect to find Oli hard at work, but instead, I spot him in the living room, curled up in what looks like a human-sized dog bed nestled in a bright patch of sunlight streaming through the window.
“You’re napping?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
Oli cracks one eye open. His gaze lingers on me longer than usual, his eyebrow arching slightly, but then he smiles.
“This sunbeam spoke to me. Said I was chosen.”
I snort. “Chosen to be lazy?”
His dimples deepen as he grins. “Join me; it’s so cozy. The guys will be back soon, and I want to nap before we get grilled in training.”
I hesitate. I haven’t finished my chores. But the sun looks so inviting, warming the plush surface of the oversized cushion. After the morning I had, a moment of peace sounds heavenly.
“Fine. Scoot over,” I say, giving in.
