Chapter 327: Making Up For Lost Time (18+)

Damien positioned himself just right, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me, bringing an intense warmth that lit up every nerve like a fire.

He leaned in close, our foreheads almost touching, those blue eyes locked onto mine with such intensity that I could hardly breathe.

Four years. Four goddamn years of nothing but my own hand and now here he was, looking at me like he’d personally invented the concept of hunger.

After such a long time without anyone else, I felt tight and sensitive, and the first moment of him stretching me open sent a sharp, burning ache coursing through me, making my fingers grip his arms.

"Slow," I begged, my voice shaky. "Please, Damien... t–take it slow."

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against my lips as he began to push in, one careful inch at a time. "Just breathe for me... that’s it, Sunshine."

He took his time, rolling his hips in tiny increments, allowing me to feel every ridge and gradually filling me up completely, making my thighs tremble around his waist.

I was pretty sure my soul left my body somewhere around the halfway mark, did a little victory lap, and then came back just to make sure this was actually happening.

The burn was real, but underneath it was the overwhelming relief of finally having him inside me again after four long years of emptiness.

He paused when he was fully inside, kissing me softly through the stretch and burn, his tongue sliding against mine in slow, soothing strokes until the sharp edge of discomfort faded into something deeper and warmer.

Once I was ready, I nodded, and he started moving with slow, deep strokes that brushed against all my sensitive spots inside.

Each thrust felt controlled, and he kept his gaze on my face, his eyes dark and focused... like he needed to see how he affected me.

The kisses were passionate and wet, his tongue slipping into my mouth to catch every moan I couldn’t hold really back.

Between kisses, he pressed his forehead against mine, sharing breaths, and when he took my wrists, he guided them above my head, pinning them gently with one hand while the other stroked down my side.

My entire nervous system apparently decided this was the perfect moment to short-circuit in the most humiliatingly enthusiastic way possible.

My legs initially wrapped around his waist, my heels digging into his back to pull him closer, but then he shifted, hooking my legs over his shoulders and folding me nearly in half, sinking even deeper.

The new angle made every thrust graze that sweet spot inside me that sent white flashes across my vision, and my stomach clenched hard with every movement.

His voice was low and rough, filled with possession as he thrust into me, the words tumbling out between broken groans that only made the experience feel more intimate.

"You’re so perfect for me... you kept yourself all this time."

Another deep roll of his hips brought the wet sound of our bodies meeting into the quiet house.

"You waited for me, like you knew you belong to me." He pushed in harder, watching my face. "You were made for me, Oliver. You better believe it, baby."

I was completely undone... eyes glassy, voice breaking, nearly in tears from how incredible it felt after such a long time.

"Fuck, yes... yes... I was... god—" The words spilled out uncontrollably. "Faster... Damien–ah!"

Well shit, I guess if you left me in a box for a few years with no sexual contact you’d get a needy slut for dick.

He picked up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin growing louder while my legs shook uncontrollably.

"I’ll do anything for you," he growled, his voice rough against my mouth. "I’m going to make up for every single day we lost. I’ll fuck you every day if that’s what you need. Get ready, Sunshine."

"I’m ready," I moaned, past any shame that might have held me back before. "I’ll do it... just don’t leave me again..."

He kissed me hard, almost bruising, and growled against my lips, "That’s it. My good boy. I’ll never leave you. Even if I have to kill to keep you by my side this time... I’ll do it. I swear."

My eyes widened at the dark intensity of his words... the thought of my usually calm, reasonable Damien going to such lengths for me struck a deep chord, and he smirked at my reaction, sucking on my bottom lip while his other hand pinched and rolled one of my nipples between his fingers.

"Damn... you feel so good, Oliver."

From that moment on, the pace was relentless.

The filthy sound of him fucking me filled the room, mingling with my broken moans and his low, guttural groans that slipped out every time I clenched around him.

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard as the pressure built higher and higher.

My stomach tensed every time he ground against my sweet spot, and the mix of sensations from his cock inside me and the way he looked at me like I was everything drove me over the edge first.

I came hard, tightening around him, my vision blurring as the release spilled between us.

Somewhere in the back of my mind a tiny, exhausted voice whispered that this was possibly the most athletic thing I’d done since 2022, and I should maybe stretch afterward.

He followed almost immediately, a deep, shuddering groan vibrating against my mouth as he released inside.

But he stayed fully hard, still buried deep, kissing me through the waves of sensitivity and whispering sweet praise between every press of his lips.

For a brief, tender moment, he brushed my hair back, planting soft kisses on my cheeks and eyelids while I tried to catch my breath.

Then he glanced down at the mess on my stomach.

He swiped a finger through it, tasted it without breaking eye contact, and my eyes went wide.

Before I could say anything, he started moving again, with slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged through my still-sensitive body while I was still trembling from my first orgasm.

"Are... are you going again...?" My voice came out shaky and disbelieving.

Damien didn’t respond with words.

He leaned down, kissed me deeply, and thrust harder, the thick length of him still buried inside me sliding in and out with a force that made it clear the night was far from over.

One of his hands wrapped around my sensitive cock, stroking me through the overstimulation, the sensations almost overwhelming yet exactly what I craved.

My internal struggle of "This is too much / I never want it to fucking stop" only amplified.

After four years of missing him, he was already hard again inside me, looking at me like he intended to reclaim every single one of those nights we had missed before morning light. And honestly? If this was the recovery plan, I was fully prepared to call in sick for the next week.