Chapter 104: Oliver’s Post-Nut Flight Risk
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Morning crept in way too softly for the kind of chaos I was waking up to.
For a blissful instant, I lingered in that dreamy space between sleep and being fully awake, feeling a warmth that had once felt so rare once upon a time.
The gentle rise and fall beneath my cheek created a surprisingly calming rhythm, and the arm around my waist was heavy enough to pin all my worries outside my dreams, where they belonged, at least for now.
I let out a soft sigh and snuggled in a bit closer before my brain finally kicked in.
...
Wait a damn minute.
Suddenly, my eyes flew open.
The first thing that came into view was soft gray fabric just inches from my face. The next realization hit me: I wasn’t on a pillow at all.
I was on Damien.
Completely. My cheek was resting on his chest, one of his arms was wrapped loosely around my waist like he’d meant to hold me like that, and somehow, during the night, our legs got so hopelessly tangled that I couldn’t tell which limb belonged to who.
Damien...the guy who...
Last night...
For a few long moments, my brain just shut down. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but apparently, my body had no immunity to this strange phenomenon.
Then, like a tidal wave, every memory from last night came flooding back.
The way the darkness pushed against the windows. The cringe-worthy conversation that spilled out of me against my will. His steady, calming voice guiding me through my climax as he stroked me.
Heat rushed to my face so fast that I was genuinely surprised there wasn’t smoke coming out of my ears.
"Oh my God," I murmured.
I squeezed my eyes shut again. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. I hadn’t spent the entire night draped over l had not let Damien fucking Lockwood give me a hand job!
What was wrong with me?
Very slowly, I lifted my head.
Damien was still asleep, and he looked completely different from the smug, teasing guy I usually saw. Without that infuriating grin, he actually seemed peaceful.
His dark hair was messily tousled across his forehead, a few strands lying free in a way he’d never allow if he were awake to fix it. His breathing was slow and steady, undisturbed by the mini-meltdown happening just a few inches above his chest.
Less untouchable. Less intimidating.
And annoyingly handsome.
How the hell can someone sleep so comfortably and hot at the same time after basically licking my cum of his fucking fingers the night before?!
My heart kicked into overdrive.
Okay, I told myself. Just stay calm...this happens a lot of people right? Carefully move away. He won’t even know, easy.
I slowly lifted his arm from around my waist, and surprisingly, it slipped free without a fuss.
Success.
Now for my leg. I carefully unwrapped one knee, then the other. Almost there—
The mattress creaked.
I froze completely, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Damien shifted a bit, mumbling something that didn’t make any sense before rolling onto his back, his arm grazing mine as he did.
I nearly melted into a puddle right there.
Thanks to sheer willpower, I avoided screaming and instead launched myself off the bed with all the grace of a startled deer darting across the highway. My foot snagged on the edge of the blanket.
"Oh—"
Shit...
I stumbled forward, arms windmilling, and barely managed to catch myself against the bedroom wall before gravity could finish what I started.
The noise stirred Damien again. Without sticking around to see if he was waking up for real, I bolted from the room and locked myself in the bathroom, my hands shaking as I turned the lock.
Click.
And then silence.
I leaned against the sink, breathing as if I’d just escaped a burning building instead of my own bedroom.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I whisper-yelled to my reflection. "Why would you let him do that shit? As if things aren’t complicated enough by you liking your fucking roommate, you just had to let him jerk you off! Are you crazy?!"
The mirror, as expected, gave me no helpful responses. My hair looked like it had just fought a tornado, and my cheeks were still bright red, refusing to fade in the chilly bathroom air.
I looked every bit like someone who had made some pretty questionable, potentially life-altering choices the night before.
I sighed, fuck...what have I done?
I turned on the cold tap and splashed water on my face once, twice, three times. It didn’t do much. Every time I shut my eyes, pieces of last night floated back... not in sharp detail, thankfully, but just enough to remind me how thoroughly I had lost my cool in front of him.
I groaned and buried my face in a towel. "This is a nightmare."
A glance at the clock made everything way worse.
"...Oh no."
I was late. Very late for work.
I scrambled to take a quick shower and get dressed, moving so quickly that I nearly put my shirt on backward before correcting it with an annoyed sigh aimed purely at myself.
The apartment was still quiet when I tiptoed out of the bathroom, good. Maybe Damien was still out cold. Maybe, just this once, fate decided to cut me a break.
I grabbed my bag as quietly as possible and snuck over to the front door, every little sound suddenly echoing like a drum. The floor creaked, I froze. Nothing happened. I reached for the doorknob, turned it slowly, slowly, and the door opened.
Freedom!
I slipped outside, easing the door shut behind me like I was defusing a bomb, and only once I reached the hallway did I let myself breathe normally again.
"I made it," I muttered to no one in particular.
For now...
As I rushed down the street, the memories of last night kept popping back into my head. I could still feel Damien’s hand around me, warm and confident.
The way his fingers had teased me, starting off slowly, just grazing the tip with his thumb until I was practically dripping, then picking up a steady rhythm that had me gasping into my pillow.
His voice, low and dirty, had whispered in my ear: "So hard for me already... look at you leaking all over my hand."
Every word made me blush, but my body had completely betrayed me, my hips pressing forward into his grip as if I couldn’t get enough.
I shook my head vigorously, trying to push those thoughts away. Just stop thinking about it. It was a one-time thing, a mistake. I shouldn’t have liked it that much.
I was sure Damien would feel embarrassed when he woke up as well.
But the memory of how good it felt, the slick sound of his hand working on me, the way he’d squeezed just right, that low praise in his voice...kept replaying in my mind, leaving me with a mix of shame and residual heat.
Joy’s Café was already buzzing by the time I showed up.
"I’m so, so sorry!" I blurted, rushing through the staff entrance.
Maya looked up from the espresso machine and dramatically glanced at the wall clock. "Only twenty-three minutes late."
"I know."
"You owe me coffee."
"We literally work here."
"Exactly. That makes it free, which somehow makes the debt even worse."
Despite herself, she chuckled and tossed me an apron. "Go save Table Seven before they decide caffeine isn’t worth the wait."