Chapter 366: Marks In The Morning Light (18+)

"S...shut up, asshole," I finally managed to gasp, my words coming out all breathy and wrecked, just barely audible since each thrust of Damien’s hips was stealing the air from my lungs.

He chuckled softly against my neck, completely unrepentant, then pushed in harder, making a broken sound escape me that I didn’t even bother to stifle.

I instinctively reached back, fingers tangling in his hair to roughly pull his head up so I could shoot him a proper glare, or at least try, even though I could barely keep my eyes open and my mouth was just hanging there, caught on another helpless noise.

"Seriously... jerk?! You’re not even letting me sleep!"

"Do you think you could actually fall asleep while I’m fucking you?" he murmured, amusement threaded through his breath, and before I could think of a snappy reply, he turned my face just enough to kiss me deep.

His tongue slipped right in, like he owned my mouth already, wet and insistent, tasting of morning and the faint salt of my skin.

He took his time, kissing me just like he did when he was inside me, slow at first, thorough, claiming every part until I was making soft, surprised sounds against his lips.

When he finally pulled back, there was a thin string of spit connecting us for a moment before it snapped, and somehow that sight felt even more dirty than anything else he’d done this morning.

His voice dropped to something low, fond, and filthy as he settled deeper again, the thick length of him sliding in smoothly, making my toes curl against the sheets.

"God, you feel amazing. I could die happy between these thighs." One of his hands left my waist just long enough to grip my thigh, leaving a mark that I knew would turn into a bruise later, fingers digging in as he held me open for the next thrust. "Don’t worry... I’ll try to be quick."

He kept up a steady stream of playful, filthy praise throughout, his voice mixed with encouragement that shot straight into my spine and tightened everything.

"That’s it... take it. You’re still so open for me." His hand spread across my stomach while he fucked me, strong and warm, feeling the way my body gave with every deep push, like he was keeping track of how I yielded to him and pressing against the bulge in my belly.

"Aww, baby. Gonna come for me again already?"

The angle shifted just enough so that each slow, rolling thrust grazed my prostate with devastating accuracy, and I couldn’t help but push back even while pretending to be annoyed.

"It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let go. Look at you... letting me use you like this first thing in the morning before I leave. So good for me."

I came again with a loud, broken moan that surprised even me, my body clenching hard around him in rhythmic pulses that made him groan into my neck.

The pleasure was sharp and overwhelming, hotter than the last time, and I shook as I lost myself with my fist still in his hair and my face pressed into the pillow like it might somehow mask how completely undone I was.

Damien followed close behind, burying himself as deep as he could and releasing inside me with a long, shaky groan that vibrated through us both.

I could feel the heat of it, his body pulsing as he held still, one arm wrapped tight around my waist like he feared I might disappear if he let go too soon.

He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard against my neck, feeling solid and grounding against my back.

When he finally pulled out, it was slow and almost reluctant, the thick slide of him leaving me feeling empty and messy all at once.

A soft, wet sound accompanied the motion, and he planted a series of gentle kisses on my shoulder and the side of my head while he did it, murmuring against my skin.

"Sorry for wearing you out, love." he said, "I just couldn’t resist..."

By then, I was already slipping under again, the effects of two orgasms and the heavy satisfaction in my body dragging me down faster than I could resist.

The last thing I noticed was the soft brush of his fingers through my hair and the distant sounds of him moving around the room, and then sleep took me completely, my face relaxed and peaceful against the pillow, still marked and full of him.

[Damien Lockwood]

Damien lingered in bed a bit longer than he needed to, propping himself up on one elbow and just watching.

Oliver looked absolutely fucking wrecked in the best way possible, blushing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, lips slightly swollen from kissing, fresh marks dotted along his neck and the curve of one shoulder.

The sheets were tangled low around his hips, barely covering how Damien had gripped him earlier, and the sight sent a fierce, quiet rush of possessiveness and something softer, almost like gratitude, through Damien’s chest.

Eventually, he got up and grabbed a warm cloth from the bathroom, returning to clean both of them with gentle care.

He lingered over the marks he left behind, his thumb brushing over a particularly dark bruise on Oliver’s hip as if he was both apologizing and claiming it.

When he was done, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Oliver’s forehead, his voice barely a whisper.

"I love you."

Getting ready for the day felt like muscle memory at this point, sharp, expensive dark suit, crisp shirt, that kind of understated expensive watch that never needed adjusting.

He left a glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand within easy reach, checked once more that Oliver was still deeply asleep, then walked out of the bedroom and into the morning like a man who knew exactly how the next few hours would unfold.

The Rolls-Royce was waiting at the curb like it always was, engine purring softly, driver already standing with the rear door open.

Damien got in without a word, the soft leather embracing him as the door shut with a muted click.

The city blurred past the tinted windows, early traffic and glass towers shimmering in the morning light, and for a few moments, he simply watched, his expression unreadable.

His phone rang. Naomi’s name lit up the screen.

He answered on the second ring, his voice calm. "Talk to me."

"William is on his way to Lockwood Group headquarters," she said without any small talk. "Security wants to know if they should stop him at the entrance or let him through to the executive floor."

Damien glanced out at the skyline, a slow, cold smirk creeping onto his face, an expression that never quite reached his eyes.

He already knew what his father was planning.

He also knew that William had no clue how thoroughly he’d been undermined...every share transferred, every discreet board meeting, every piece of leverage meticulously put in place while the man was busy underestimating the son he thought he could control.

Damien leaned back in his seat and waited for the day’s first real moves to unfold.

"No," he replied quietly. "Let him in."