Page 7 of The Princess

Nash laughed, as he did sometimes when Damon got impatient with his exquisite torture.

“Need something?” Nash asked, already sliding himself lower again.

“Asshole.”

A finger dipped down below Damon’s balls and pressed against his taint. “Is that a request?”

Damon whimpered. He didn’t know what he wanted and that was the crux of the matter. He wanted too much. He wanted Nash and Taylor in different but equal measures. Nash was the known. The comfortable and the compelling. Being with Nash was as easy as breathing.

Taylor wasn’t unknown, at least Damon hadn’t thought of him that way. Up until recently, Taylor had been the known quantity. And, sure, Damon had liked him, but now he couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t only the makeup because Taylor wasn’t always wearing it. Even when Damon had seen him looking as he always did—in torn and faded jeans with his signature grease-splattered diner apron over top his shirt, Taylor was attractive. But there was something about him now. His confidence had grown three sizes and it was hotter than hell.

Confident men were Damon’s weakness. Nash had proven that over and over again. Just as he was proving now, taking Damon’s throbbing cock into his mouth. Swallowing it down. Caressing it with his tongue in sinful ways that had Damon writhing and moaning.

God, Nash’s mouth was a gift and a curse. He’d talked his way into Damon’s arms, then his bed, then his fucking heart. The things he’d done to Damon were only eclipsed by the things he’d done for him.

“Nash.” Damon’s voice sounded strained. His body was too tight from pleasure. “Please.”

“Please, what? What do you need?” Nash kissed along the inside of Damon’s fuzzy thighs. “Tell me what you want. You know the deal.”

Nash would give him whatever he wanted, so long as he asked for it.

But sometimes it was hard to get the words out. He almost couldn’t believe that he could have these things and the way they made him feel. Loved, and light, and invincible. Sexy and shy all at once. It was like Nash found all the different versions of Damon that lived inside him and knew how to coax them out.

“I want your fingers.” Damon pressed his eyes shut. “In my ass. I want your fingers in my ass, and I want you to kiss me until I can’t think.”

Nash fumbled around in the half dark and retrieved the lube, then settled in next to Damon with slippery fingers. Once Damon asked for something, Nash was good about not making him wait and it wasn’t too long—though it felt like eternity—before Nash’s fingers were dipping inside Damon’s hole.

First one. Slow and gentle like the way Nash kissed him. Damon always savored that first intrusion. That first little sting of tightness before he remembered to breathe and let Nash inside. It was hesitation followed by absolute exquisite pleasure.

“I love your fingers.” Damon wrapped his arms around Nash and held tight, as if to keep him from escaping, even though he knew Nash wasn’t going anywhere.

“I love how you feel on me.” Nash slanted his mouth over Damon’s and his kisses grew in intensity, sweeping Damon away. When Nash slid a second finger into Damon’s slippery hole, he keened and clutched Nash tighter.

When Damon couldn’t kiss anymore because he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but thrash and beg and cling to his lover, Nash kept his mouth busy on Damon’s neck. He whispered things Damon couldn’t hear over the rush of his own pulse. Things that sounded like honey-coated praise. Gentle little words that felt almost as good as Nash’s fingers striking Damon’s prostate over and over.

Nash brought Damon to the edge of his orgasm, his body tight and hot all over. Nash kissed the whimper back into his mouth when he pulled his fingers out of Damon’s ass and wrapped his hand around Damon’s cock. Damon came with a handful of strokes. The whole world whited out for a moment and when Damon opened his eyes a second later, Nash was kneeling over him.

Damon loved watching this. Loved watching Nash let go. Using his cum-coated fingers, Nash took hold of his cock in an overhand grip and stroked himself hard and fast before switching his grip and leaning down. He planted his free hand next to Damon’s head and stole a kiss.

Damon reached for Nash. Unable to not touch him, he dragged his hands over Nash’s chest. His arms. His back. Wherever he could reach.

Nash slammed his mouth down against Damon’s and muffled his cries as he coated Damon’s stomach with cum.

After, Nash flopped down next to Damon and pulled him close. He tilted his chin with the tip of his finger and kissed Damon so softly he could cry.

“Aren’t you going to clean me up?” Damon frowned.

“Soon, but first…” Nash kissed him again.

Sometime later, after a shower and more kissing, Nash and Damon curled together in the darkness.

“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Damon asked.

“He will.” Nash kissed the back of Damon’s neck. “Don’t worry.”

CHAPTER 4

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