by Tempest Phan
We stayed like this. For how long? I do not know. But Lukas did not interrupt. And then Damien, still unspent, flipped back so I was on top, letting me move my body at my pace while he drank me in. Slowly, I ground my pelvis against him, hearing him suck his breath, feeling him get even harder and throb inside of me. I kept grinding, back and forth, my hips moving slowly, desperately slowly, as his hands traced featherlight caresses down my arms, cupping my breasts, down my waist and around, to finally settle against the small of my back, fingers gently splayed to hold my hips.
Suddenly, the bed shifted, and I looked over as Lukas, fully recovered from his climax, sat up. His eyes were cold. He’d seen enough, could likely barely tolerate the unspoken emotions that had flowed, were still flowing, palpable, from Damien to me and back. He gently caressed my cheek before saying, in a voice of darkness, “Are you ready for round two, love?”
I nodded, gasping as Damien hit that delicious spot inside of me. Lukas pulled away. I heard him open the drawer of my bedside table and glanced over to see him take some lube. And then, behind me, his fingers gently spreading the warm liquid between my butt cheeks and into my ass. Ever so gently, he pushed me down, so I was fully pressed against Damien. I continued riding him, moaning as I felt Lukas push a finger, and then two, into my ass. He played with me at length, making sure I was warmed up and ready for him.
“I’m going to take it, love. And you’re going to absolutely love it,” he hissed, his voice thick and raspy.
I felt the head of his cock against my entry, before he slowly, ever so slowly pushed through.
He continued to push gently, and I froze, unaccustomed to the pressure, the almost pain. I glanced down, face tight with discomfort, and saw the look of concern in Damien’s eyes, at the same time as his face hardened with silent fury. Was he upset at me? Or at Lukas who hadn’t been able to let us be, intruding instead and bringing pain . . .
One of Dame’s hands left my waist, where he’d been holding me close, and gently caressed my cheek, trembling.
Are you ok, baby doll? he silently asked.
I moved slightly to kiss his gentle hand, and then smiled and nodded as I slowly shifted, moving to better control the angle of their penetrations.
“Are you all right there, love?” Lukas asked softly against my ear, reminding me that he, too, loved me.
I nodded again, and pushed my hips backwards against him. Deep pleasure-pain flooded my body, making me weak in the knees, forcing me to tighten my thighs around Damien’s hips, making both men groan.
It was all nearly unbearable, and I moaned against Damien’s chest. I felt so full, and could barely move anymore.
Lukas began to thrust his hips, the movement making me slide against Damien’s cock, making me moan at the sharp pleasure. He continued thrusting, slowly, gently, until I’d gotten used to the fullness, at which point he picked up the pace, dragging my pussy across Damien’s dick, as he, too, moaned, beneath me. It went on like this, Lukas controlling our movements, the tempo, the strength with which he’d drive both himself and Damien into me, until the pleasure became nearly too much for the three of us, until I finally cried out for a fourth time that night, coming all over Damien.
My release was his cue. He unleashed a deep growl signaling that he too, was on the verge of climax, and I suddenly felt his warm seed flood me through the latex. Lukas wasn’t far behind, a triumphant shout as he came inside me, his body trapping me against Damien’s as he collapsed against me and held me tight.
Time stood still and we stayed like this, until he finally rolled over, taking me with him. I was his. He dared Damien to challenge that as he held me on top of him. But Damien stayed motionless, lying next to us, his forearm thrown over his face, while I watched him from where I was against Lukas’s chest, feeling the sting in my eyes. And I knew, sight unseen, that my silent tears matched the secret ones falling from Dame’s eyes.
Damien
I did not sleep that night. I kept replaying how she’d looked, smelled, tasted. The way she’d looked straight at me the entire time another man had been fucking her, as if each move of his cock into her had been mine.
I couldn’t bear to dwell too much on those images of her in another man’s arms. Even last night, self-preservation had dictated that I barely look at him and what he was doing, wanting to lose myself in her stare instead. It had been as if each of her moans, each sigh he’d gotten out of her, had been just for me. She hadn’t looked away either, pulling me in with her feverish eyes.
I’d pretended that he hadn’t even been there.
I’d dragged it out for as long as I could.
And when I’d finally entered her, it had been devastating, the bittersweet feeling of coming home, knowing it could never be. The thought even now made me hard, breathless. I needed to leave, and quickly, before I lost myself again.
***
Bella
I awoke to Lukas kissing me softly. He was fully dressed, in one of his gorgeous, slim Italian suits, the dark wool offsetting his bronzed skin and golden hair, a silver and emerald tie catching his steely gaze. He was breathtakingly handsome. He looked just like how I imagined billionaires to look in those erotic novels that everyone reads on the DL. I could smell his cologne. Fresh, clean, soapy.
“Leaving for work already? You’re not going to have breakfast with us?” I said sleepily, reaching out to touch his smoothly shaven cheek.
“Depositions this morning. Wish I could stay, but I must go. I will see you tonight?”
I nodded. “You look pretty commanding. No one is going to dare give you crap in court today.”
“I’ll let you command me in the bedroom any day, love.”
I suddenly remembered our wild night, and as the memories began to flood my brain, I blushed deeply, realizing the exact moment he’d recalled them too.
“Thank you. For last night.” I averted my eyes, slightly ashamed at my wantonness.
Gently, he took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were dark, and something darker still flitted across his face. “No need to blush, love. And no need to thank me. You know by now that I’d do anything for you.” And then he added, “Anything. Everything. Short of letting you go.”
I smiled at him and reached up. He leaned in again and kissed me passionately, running his hands down my naked body and back up to rest on my core, his fingers reaching down to tease me gently, as I squirmed, first in discomfort, still sore from the night before, and then with want. His eyes never leaving mine, he inched lower and lower, before stopping on my warm folds. Slowly, he began to lick me, found my clit which he sucked in completely until I threw my head back and moaned loudly. He didn’t let up, licking, sucking, eating me out until I came hard, my hands clutching wildly at his hair. He moved away. “To be continued tonight.” His voice was husky as he stared, trying to see through me. The ghost of a self-satisfied smirk flicked across his beautiful lips, as if he’d once again reassured himself of his place in my world. I was his.
“Promise?” I sighed.
“You can depend upon it.” He kissed my nose and pushed himself up. His perfectly coiffed hair was now falling haphazardly over his brow. He raked his fingers through it.
“I’ll be home around nine.”
“Will you have dinner with us?”
He hesitated for a heartbeat and then shook his head. “No, you both go ahead.” He kissed me one last time and headed out the door. It opened and closed, and then I heard his Maserati roar as he drove off.
I laid there for a while, feeling conflicted. His touch had aroused me and then satiated me, but I couldn’t focus on his face. Instead, my mind wandered to Damien, wondering whether he was awake, whether he slept naked, whether he was mentally replaying those scenes of fucking me, whether he was hard this morning. I stopped myself, ashamed at where my thoughts were leading me.
I heard a gentle knock on the door.
“Yes?”
“Bella?” It was Damie
n.
I pulled up the sheets to cover myself.
“Come in.” Why?
He walked in, his black hair still tousled. Over his grey sweatpants he was wearing an old Spider-Man T-shirt, the worn material stretching over his taut, lean muscles. He looked so boyish, so heartbreakingly handsome, that my heart did a double flip as goosebumps peppered my skin.
His eyes caught mine as he walked in. His baby blues were on fire. I knew he was reliving images from the night before, and the very thought made me liquid for him.
He hesitated.
“Hi . . . Wondering what you might want for breakfast.” He stopped at the foot of my bed, a respectful distance from me.
You. The forbidden thought came unbidden to my heart, but I stopped it before it could leave my lips.
Looking at him standing there, all the old feelings came rushing back. I would never get over him, would I? Was he over me?
“Same as usual,” I said unsteadily. “About last night, Dame . . .”
I couldn’t finish. His eyes lowered, and I was on fire from where I could feel his gaze trail over me, down to my breasts and lower, lower, making me clench inside. Slowly, ever so slowly, they made their way back up to rest on my face, and I could see the heat in his gaze, which told me even more than the erection that was fast showing through his sweats.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, closed his eyes tightly. When he reopened them, his voice was unsteady. “Are you ok? Did we hurt you?”
I shook my head, tears beginning to sting my eyes at the care in his words. He would always think of me. That had not, would never change. How could I not be devastated, then, that he’d never let us be?
He swallowed again. “Good . . . Best we not talk about it, then. Breakfast will be ready in ten.”
I nodded. “Now go,” I said softly. “I need to get dressed.”
His fists clenched to his side and he quickly turned around to leave, shutting the door softly behind him.
I grabbed a T-shirt—Lukas’s—and threw it on, layering Dame’s fraying hoodie on top. Both were long enough to cover me nearly to my knees, but I still slid into a pair of old leggings before walking out.
I headed to the kitchen. He was making pancakes. I walked to the cupboard and grabbed a couple of mugs and plates and set them down on the kitchen table.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said without turning around.
“Always. Look at you, still taking care of me. Remember those godawful sandwiches I tried to make once?” I came behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my cheek against his back, hugging him tightly to me. The familiar scent, the familiar feel of him nearly brought me to my knees.
Sandalwood and smoke.
Satin and steel.
Sweetness and sorrow.
He breathed in sharply before loosening my arms from his waist.
“I do,” he said softly, while turning around to face me. “Now go sit. It’s ready.”
He pushed me gently toward the table and brought the plateful of pancakes over. He pulled out the chair next to me. I pulled on one of the loose threads on my—his—hoodie.
I looked at him, at his beloved face, at the jagged scar that proved how much he cared for me. He hadn’t shaved yet, and my fingers were dying to touch the dark stubble. His piercings—all of them—were still in place, making him look both dangerous and young. The blue of his eyes so beautiful it was troubling, his dark hair a mess—as always—over his brow, his face a bit pale compared to the California bronze I was surrounded by, compared to Lukas’s own tan.
I reached over to sweep his hair to the side. His hand, his gorgeous, strong hand with the black matte polish chipping off his fingers; his hand caught mine and pressed it against his cheek. I could feel the whiskers prickling my skin, his musk, the scent of sandalwood teasing my nostrils, playing havoc with my insides.
He slid my hand slowly to his mouth, moved my fingers tenderly over his lips, and placed on them a whisper of a kiss. His eyes were closed tightly. When he opened them finally, I saw the love and desire there that I craved so much. The impact of his absence came rushing back to me.
“I’ve missed you,” I said, knowing that the word miss felt so inadequate. It couldn’t come close to conveying the bone-deep sorrow that consumed me whenever he wasn’t near me.
He brought my hand back to his lips and kissed it again. The air was electric around us. I guess this would never change. The underlying chemistry and tension between us would never really go away.
“Me too,” he said finally.
“Please don’t hate me for last night,” I whispered, not wanting for him to think that what we’d done had been cheap, disposable. I’d simply wanted to be with him. Now I could admit it. That talk of fantasies and threesomes had been complete and utter bullshit. I’d simply wanted to feel him near me, in me, again. Because he felt like home.
“I could never hate you. I even understand what last night was about. Perhaps it was our only way. And I would almost thank you for it, except . . . except that you’ve been haunting my dreams enough as it is. And now . . .” He took a deep breath, and, voice shaking, added, “Now I’m sorry I came back. Being near you just reminds me how much I miss you when you’re not by my side.” And with that, he got up abruptly and left. I sat there for a few minutes before going after him.
I stalked into his room. He was packing his bags. He looked up. His eyes were weary, defeat plundering their depths. My heart seized in my chest.
“Dame? You’re leaving me again aren’t you?” I stepped closer to him. “When will I see you again?”
He turned away, his face in his palm. Minutes went by before he faced me again.
“Not for a while,” he said finally.
“Why? You promised. You promised you’d always be there. Please don’t leave. Will it be another four, five years? I can’t continue like this. I can’t go for years on end without seeing you, surviving on a stupid perfunctory text every morning. Do you know how not hearing from you, not knowing what you’re doing, whether you’re safe and happy . . . How it just kills me?” I began to cry, because that’s the kind of wuss I was. “I’m so sorry about last night, Dame. I don’t know why I did it. All I know is that I’ve missed you.”
“It’s not about last night. Although it nearly killed me, I wouldn’t give last night back. To feel you against me again, to give you that kind of pleasure again, to hear you scream my name . . . No, I would not give last night back. It was at once amazing and devastating. But I just can’t do this anymore.”
“Don’t just leave me like this again.”
“You don’t understand, do you? I love you. I love you so goddamn much that it’s destroying me inside, that I sometimes can’t breathe anymore.” He shut his eyes and shook his head. “I love you. I fucking love you so much, baby. And I don’t know how I am going to survive without you. But I will have to. And so no, I cannot see you. I cannot be near you. I want you happy, and since it’s never going to be with me, it cannot be me, I cannot stay.”
He turned to his open suitcase, his back to me again. Shielding himself from my stare, that’s when he allowed himself to whisper, his voice darker still, “Bella, I can’t bear to see you with a man who isn’t me, can’t bear knowing that he’s touching you, tasting you, holding you. Fucking you. That he gets to have you. All of you. Can’t bear knowing that it cannot be me.”
I wanted to run to him, to pull him against me, to let our skin touch because everything made sense when it did. Nothing made sense now, with him here but already thousands of miles away.
He spun back to face me, his eyes broken. “You really want to know if I’m happy? Without you, I could never be. And with me, as I am right now, you will never be.” He took in a deep breath.
I ran my hands over my face and bit down on my lip, the tears pooling in my heart leaking out again. “As you are right now? Why won’t you understand that I want to be by your side. I can help you. Please don
’t push me away again, Dame. Let me fight by your side.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. My life is a nightmare. Years and years of this shit, and I still haven’t figured anything out yet. My mom keeps spiraling. What kind of man would I be to bring you into my own private hell?”
I stifled a sob. “Please don’t leave me again. Don’t go . . . I want to be there for you. You’re my best friend. I can be there as a friend only, if that’s all you want right now.” I moved toward him again.
Only a friend? We both knew I was lying.
It was his turn to step closer. He tilted my chin up. “Is this how a friend is supposed to feel?” he hissed, his voice dark malt and shadows, before his lips came down, just short of touching, a mere breath from mine. “Is what I did to you last night what a friend is supposed to do?”
I wanted to bridge the distance between us, crush my lips to his. I imagined his rough, unshaven skin against me, his nose ring poking my cheek, the ice of his spider bites against my tongue. Imagined his callused hands on me, as he claimed me, violent, bruising, unrelenting. All that sweet pain to erase the hurt from our hearts.
“Oh God, baby doll. I can’t share you. I love you, love you so goddamn much. You’re mine.” I heard the violence in his quiet, desperate plea breaking through my mad, mad fantasizing.
I’m yours, my Damien James. Always. Only. Yours.
But I wasn’t.
Reality was like a splash of ice soaking through our veins, and we pushed away from each other, as if we’d just touched fire, even though we were both shivering. I fell in a pile at the foot of the wall. He joined me.
In spite of the torment, in spite of the maddening need we shared, we would not do the unforgivable.
His voice broke the silence as he avoided my gaze. “That’s why I have to leave. That’s why I disappeared for years. I can’t be near you and not have you. I wish I were stronger but I’m not. You run in my veins. When we crossed the line all those years ago, I was lost.” He covered his face with his hands. He took in a shallow breath, dropped his hands, then pinned me with his eyes again, making me drown, drown. “Been lost ever since, baby. And I can’t find my way back to sanity if you’re by my side and I can’t have you.” Then he wrapped me in his arms as he kissed my forehead. “He makes you happy, Bella. More than I ever could. I can see it. He’s your happily ever after. So please let me go, baby girl. Let me forget you.”