Chapter 338: Welcome Home, Sunshine (18+)

Damien’s hands tightened around my waist, pulling me against him...every hard edge of his body pressed against mine, and the thin bathrobe he wore did nothing to hide how ready he was. His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that was half relief, half possession.

When he finally broke the kiss enough to speak, his words felt warm and low against my lips.

"You’re really here... in my home."

I felt those words more in my chest than I actually heard them. After four years apart, during which I had carefully avoided thinking about this very view, or this very man, the reality hit me solid and warm and a little intimidating, but in the best way.

I managed a breathless laugh, a mix of amusement and something gentler. "You’re obsessed with saying that."

Damien chuckled in agreement, walking me backward through the open doors without ever breaking contact. The cool air from outside transitioned to the warmer stillness of the living room, and before I knew it, my back hit the floor-to-ceiling glass.

Cold glass pressed against my shoulders while Damien’s warmth surrounded me. He pressed me there, his mouth finding mine once more.

His bathrobe loosened under my touch, and my shirt rode up beneath his hands and suddenly, he dropped to his knees, kissing my stomach and the waistband of my pants, looking up at me with those dark eyes that seemed both reverent and unapologetic.

Then he stood up, spun me around to face the sprawling city, and wrapped one arm around my chest while the other began to undo my pants. His voice was a low murmur against the side of my neck.

"Look at that view... and you’re mine in the middle of it."

I tried to sound indifferent. "You’re being so dramatic—"

But my protest faded when his hand slipped inside and found me already hard, already leaking. He stroked me once, slow and the soft, filthy sound he made against my skin sent shivers through me.

"And look at you, already leaking for me. So sensitive and I only fucked you a few days ago, and your body acts like it’s starving."

"Shut your ass up," I managed, which only earned me a smirk and a quiet grind of his hips against me.

"Make me."

We never quite made it to the bedroom in a straight line. Somewhere between the glass and the big cream sofa, my shirt vanished completely, and Damien peeled the rest of my clothes off with a focus that left me feeling both exposed and cherished.

He kissed every newly exposed inch...my collarbones, my chest, the softness of my stomach, until I was completely naked and half self-conscious under the intensity of his sapphire gaze.

The penthouse still felt like someone else’s life; the way he looked at me made it feel like mine too, he paused, one hand gliding slowly over my hip, just looking.

"Four years... and now I get to have you here."

I reached for him, tugging at the belt of his bathrobe until it fell open. The sight of him still hit me hard, long lines, quiet strength, carrying himself like the room and everything in it was his, including me.

He lifted me with an ease that should have been illegal, one arm under my thighs and the other supporting my back, carrying me to the master bedroom.

The massive bed awaited, city light filtering softly through the sheer curtains. He laid me down gently, as if I might break, though we both knew I wouldn’t.

He finished undressing while I watched, then settled between my legs, inches apart, making sure there was no space left between us. Eye contact. Soft kisses. The click of the lube bottle as his fingers worked me open slowly, curling just enough to make me catch my breath, and the entire time he murmured soft reassurances against my skin until I was squirming beneath him.

"Still so tight around my fingers... want me to stretch you out even more?"

"Fuck...Damien—"

"What? Too much? Or not enough?"

"Just...hurry up and fuck me."

He withdrew his fingers with a satisfied sound and leaned in until our foreheads almost touched. "Ask properly."

I was too far gone for any sense of dignity. "Please. Just fuck me."

"Good, Sunshine."

When he finally pushed his massive cock inside, it was one long, slow thrust that stole the breath from both of us.

His forehead pressed against mine. My hands found his shoulders, gripping hard enough to leave marks. We remained still for a few heartbeats just feeling it, the stretch, the warmth, the impossible fact that this was happening in his bed, in his home, with the city glittering outside like a private audience.

Then he began to move. Long, deep strokes that kept us close, my legs draped over his shoulders, every shift pressing us tighter together. Heavy kissing. Soft, filthy words mixed with something that sounded almost like wonder.

"You’re actually living here now... I get to wake up with you in this bed. Mine, finally mine again in my own home. You feel so good, Sunshine... fuck, I missed this."

I laughed, a breathless sound mixed with disbelief, because even now the nickname still warmed me.

He responded by shifting just enough to make my next breath turn into a moan, and the sound he made in return was low and reverent.

"You take me so well, every single time, this is what you get for living here now. I get to bury myself in you whenever I want."

"You’re talking like you fucking own me—"

His next thrust was deeper, harder, and his words against my ear carried a dark satisfaction. "I do, don’t I? You’re in my bed. In my home...with my dick deep inside you. Come on, baby, Say it."

"I’m yours—"

"Louder."

"I’m yours! Fuck, I’m yours."

He rewarded that with a deeper roll of his hips and a hand covering my stomach to feel every thrust from the outside.

The pace built just like it always did with us inevitable, a little desperate, still somehow tender underneath the heat. When I started to tighten around him, he sensed it immediately, his voice turning rough against my temple.

"You’re clenching so tight... about to come already?"

"I can’t... I’m close..."

"Then come. Come on my cock while I fill you up, I want to feel you break for me."

And I did, sharp and overwhelming, clinging to him as pleasure rolled through me in waves. He followed close behind, buried deep, a low, broken sound escaping his lips as he spilled inside me and held me through every pulse.

We stayed connected for quite a while afterward, trading slow, lazy kisses as the aftershocks faded. We lay facing the windows, the city lights still sparkling outside, while he stroked slow paths along my back and through my hair, pressing soft kisses to my shoulder and temple.

I fell asleep first with him still inside me, warm and claimed, feeling more settled than I had a right to considering everything.

Damien lingered awake a little longer, just watching, the city lights casting soft silver across the sheets and the man who finally got to keep me in the middle of them.

I stirred awake, feeling the expensive sheets around me and the familiar warmth of the body that had been wrapped around me for most of the night. Everything ached in that pleasantly familiar way that made it clear the night had been exactly what it was.

My neck tingled slightly from teeth marks, my hips felt satisfyingly used, and the insides of my thighs still held the memory of Damien’s grip as he moved.

Sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains, casting pale gold stripes across the bed. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw him already awake, propped on one elbow, looking at me with a mix of softness and smugness.

"You look thoroughly wrecked," he said, his voice still rough from sleep, his smirk playful. "I should take a picture."

"Don’t you dare, Asshole."

His smile widened. "Still sore?"

I thought about lying but figured, why bother? "...Maybe."

"Good. Means I did it right."

I rolled my eyes, I just can’t with this jerk.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead with a casual tenderness that somehow made his filthy satisfaction even more apparent.

I shifted beneath the covers, feeling the lingering ache from the night before, a gentle reminder that my body had been entirely claimed. Damien noticed the slight wince and looked way too pleased about it.

"You kept clenching around me even after you fell asleep," he said conversationally. "Every little movement made you tighten up like you were trying to keep me in. And those sounds you made when I finally pulled out—"

"Be quiet, I was asleep," I protested, warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Still, you made those little needy noises. Very informative."

I opened my mouth to come back with something sharp, but instead, my hand slipped under the sheets. When my fingers found him already half-hard, skin hot and smooth, I wrapped my palm around him and stroked him with a smug smirk. I could feel his breath hitch in a way that was satisfying to hear.

"Oh," he said, his voice dropping. "Someone’s feeling bold this morning."