Chapter 73: I Kiss The Blue Eyed Demon (Again)
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His lips met mine with a slow, intense pressure that stole the air from my lungs. At first it was just a brush, soft, warm, almost tentative, like he was testing the waters even though his hand on my jaw said he already knew exactly what he wanted.
But then the crowd’s chant blurred into white noise, and something in me snapped. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. My mouth parted under his, and Damien took it as the invitation it was.
It almost felt like I couldn’t control my own body any more. I couldn’t help but wonder who was in control. My head? My heart?
He deepened the kiss instantly, tilting his head to slot our lips together more perfectly. His mouth was hot, insistent, tasting faintly of the soda he’d sipped earlier and something darker, something that was just him.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips before sliding inside, stroking against mine with a slow, velvet drag that sent a bolt of pure heat straight down my spine.
Fuck...
I groaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating between us, and he answered with a low, hungry sound of his own that made my cock twitch hard against the seam of my jeans.
Wait what?!
Fuck. This was really happening.
His fingers tightened on my jaw, thumb pressing into the soft skin just below my ear, tilting my head exactly how he wanted. The other hand slid into my hair, gripping just hard enough to sting in the best way, anchoring me to him.
I was lost in the wet heat of his mouth, the way his tongue curled around mine, sucking gently then thrusting deeper, fucking my mouth in a rhythm that left no doubt what he wanted to do to the rest of me.
Every stroke sent sparks racing across my skin. My nipples tightened under my shirt. My thighs clenched together as arousal pooled low and heavy in my gut.
No, no, no! There’s no way I just got aroused by a guy!
Anyways, I kissed him back just as desperately, chasing his tongue, biting at his lower lip until he hissed and pressed harder.
I could feel the rapid thud of his pulse under my fingertips where I’d grabbed the front of his jacket without thinking, pulling him impossibly closer.
The arena seats suddenly felt too small, too public, but the risk only made it hotter, the knowledge that everyone was watching, cheering, while Damien claimed my mouth like he owned it.
For a split second I wondered if this kiss was too hot for a kiss cam, there could be kids here from all I knew!
He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, just long enough to nip at my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with another slow lick.
"You taste so fucking good," he murmured against my lips, voice rough and wrecked. Then he was kissing me again, deeper, filthier.
His hand left my jaw and trailed down my neck, fingers splaying possessively over my throat for a heartbeat before sliding lower, palm pressing flat against my chest like he could feel how wildly my heart was hammering for him.
God, I wanted him. I wanted his hands on me, his mouth on my neck, his cock pressing me down into the nearest flat surface. I’ve been lying to myself for so long.
The crowd was still roaring, but it barely registered. There was only Damien, his scent, clean sweat and cologne and something masculine that made my head spin; the wet sounds of our mouths moving together; the way his thigh had shifted to press between mine, giving me the slightest, maddening pressure right where I needed it most.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening, his forehead rested against mine. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with the same raw want that was burning me alive from the inside.
"Don’t be mad." he whispered, thumb brushing over my kiss-bruised lower lip. "I asked for consent this time."
Huh...? Could he repeat that when my brain wasn’t a complete fucking mush?
I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, chest heaving, body thrumming with need, and shook my head once. No. We weren’t.
Not anymore. Not after a kiss like that, one that felt like a promise of so much more.
For the next ten minutes after the kiss cam incident, I seriously thought about faking my own death.
Not in a metaphorical way, not for dramatic flair, I mean, like, actually planning out a whole new identity in a different city, completely cutting ties with everything that led me to this moment.
If a sinkhole had opened up and swallowed me whole right then and there, I would’ve been grateful and accepted it without a second thought.
Eventually, the crowd settled back into the game, which did nothing to help me since my humiliation felt like it had achieved some kind of immortality and had decided to set up camp in my brain, where it planned to stay for as long as it pleased.
I sat stiffly in my seat, staring at the ice like someone who was definitely watching hockey and not trapped in a mental loop of the last five minutes against my will.
Players moved, the puck moved, there were presumably interesting things happening on the ice, but none of it registered.
Just two perfectly normal roommates who somehow ended up on the giant arena screen in front of thousands of people.
Normal. Totally normal. Stuff like this happens all the time; nothing to dwell on?
Right? RIGHT?!
Fuck, I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore!
I was just turned on by a guy’s kiss, there’s no way I could self-gaslight myself out of that anymore.
Next to me, Damien had this smug satisfaction radiating off him that I could feel without even looking, kind of like you can feel the sun coming through a window.
He was practically beaming while I wallowed in the shocking realization that I kinda, maybe might be into guys.