Page 25 of Pretty When He Bleeds

His hot breath ghosts over my cock and the corner of his mouth curls like he knows he’s about to ruin me. Before I can even process what’s happening, his mouth is on me.

“Holy shit,” I hiss and my head falls back against the wall with a dull thud as he takes me in. His lips stretch wide over my length and slide down slowly, the heat of his mouth making my stomach tighten.

He doesn’t gag—not even a flinch—as he takes me all the way to the base, his nose brushing against my pelvis. The tight heat of his throat squeezes me, and I swear I feel every inch of him around me.

“Damien,fuuck,” I mutter as his throat tightens, swallowing around me, and a broken moan tears from my throat. He hums, the vibration sending sparks down my spine, and pulls back just enough to breathe before taking me again.

His other hand slides down, cupping my balls, rolling them gently in his palm as his mouth works me over. The combination of his tongue, his throat, and the pressure of his hand has me gasping.

It’s filthy, and he knows it. I curse under my breath, my hand twitching at my side as I fight the urge to grab his hair.

“Go ahead,” he says, after pulling back just enough to speak. His voice is rough and his lips shiny and swollen. “I don’t mind.”

I let out a shaky breath and tangle my fingers in his hair, guiding him back down as he takes me in his mouth again, his teeth grazing just enough to make my stomach twist. My breath hitches as his tongue teases along the underside of my cock.

“What did Luca mean about—oh,fuuuck.”

He presses his thumb into the base of my cock, holding me steady as he tilts his head and swallows again, his throat fluttering around me in a way that makes my entire body tense. His eyes flick up to meet mine and the heat in his gaze is enough to knock the air out of my lungs.

It’s not just that Damien’s good, it’s that he’s confident about it—unashamed and in control.

His tongue flicks against the sensitive spot just beneath the head before he sucks me back down, his throat tightening around me so fucking perfectly. His hand on my balls squeezes just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through me, and my hips buck, forcing him to take me deeper.

“Goddamn,” I groan, my fingers tangling in his hair again, tugging hard enough to make him groan around me. “You’re gonna kill me.”

His throat constricts around my cock, and any coherent thought I had disappears. I close my eyes, letting the feeling consume me. My head spins, my hips straining against his grip as he moves faster, his cheeks hollowing out with every pull.

When I open them again, my gaze drifts to the door—and I freeze.

Damon is standing there.

His dark curls are slightly messy, his green eyes sharp and fixed on me. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and there’s no mistaking the intensity in his stare. For a second, I think I’m imagining him. That maybe the alcohol and the adrenaline have finally fucked with my head.

But then he tilts his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. Our eyes lock, and everything else fades. The music, the heat, even Damien—it all blurs into the background as Damon stares at me like he’s daring me to look away.

I don’t.

The knot in my stomach tightens, the heat building and spreading as Damon’s gaze pins me in place. There’s something dark and knowing in his expression, like he’s fully aware of the power he has over me in this moment.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking move.

And then the tension snaps and I tumble over the edge, my body jerking as I climax.

“Damon,” I breathe, my voice wrecked and raw.

Damien doesn’t notice the slip, too focused on finishing what he started, but I see the way Damon’s smirk falters for just a second. Then he turns and walks away, closing the door silently and leaving me staring with my chest heaving and my mind racing.

“See?” Damien says, pulling back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you I’d make you feel better.”

I don’t respond, my gaze still fixed on the door like Damon’s going to reappear. But he doesn’t.

“Roman?” Damien says, standing and tilting his head. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I mutter, forcing a weak smile. “Luca wasn’t fucking joking.”

“Told you,” he says, grinning as he throws his shirt on again. “Let me know if you ever need a repeat performance.”

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