Chapter 82 TOTALLY MIND BLOWING.
\~~~SERENA.
I woke up slowly, sunlight filtering through the curtains and warming my face. My body felt heavy, like I'd run a marathon in my sleep. Blinking against the light, I stretched my arms, but a sharp ache between my legs made me wince.
That's when it hit me, and the whole mess of last night slammed into my head like a freight train. My eyes flew open wide, and I sat up too fast, the sheets pooling around my waist.
What the hell had happened? I frowned, rubbing my temples as fragments of memory pieced themselves together.
I'd only had two glasses of champagne. Just two and I remembered the light buzz, the way the bubbles tickled my throat and made my head feel a little floaty. But that wasn't enough to explain... this. To make me act so feral, and so out of control. It didn't make sense. I'd always been the careful one, the girl who knew her limits with alcohol. Last night, though? I had lost it completely.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. The images flooded back, me at the ball, and pressing against Damien in ways I never would in public, even in the privacy of our room!
My cheeks burned just thinking about it. He had been so calm, his arm around my waist as he guided me out of there, whispering that we needed to go home. The car ride was a blur, my hands wandering over him, begging him to touch me right there in the backseat.
God, had I really done that? And when we got home, it got worse. I remembered tugging at his shirt, my voice slurred and desperate. ‘Please, Damien, fuck me. I need you now.' He'd tried to say no, to get me to bed and sleep it off, but I snapped at him. Actually snapped, like some wild animal.
“Fuck, fuck, no no no!” I muttered out loud, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and pulling gently, then shaking my head hard as if I could shake the memories away. It wasn't even the sex that bothered me the most. Sure, that part was... intense, but the real problem was how I'd acted, completely out of character. I'd never felt that way before, never let myself go like that. It was as though something else had taken over my body, some primal urge I didn't recognize.
The need to get fucked had been so strong, and overwhelming in every rational thought. I could swear I'd never craved anyone like that in my entire life. It scared me a little, how my body had betrayed me, turning me into someone desperate and unrecognizable.
And then, the sex itself.
Oh, God.
I blushed deep red, heat flooding my face as I recalled the details. Pulling the covers over my head, I curled up, trying to hide from my own thoughts. Damien had given in eventually, and what followed was... mind-blowing. I'd never had orgasms like that before. Of course, he was always good at handling me, knowing just how to touch and move to make me feel amazing. But last night? It was different. Softer, and more passionate, like he was pouring every bit of his soul into it.
I came over four times. Fuck, four! Each one ripping through me like fire, leaving me screaming his name into the pillow.
My clit was still sore now, a dull throb that reminded me of every thrust, every kiss. He had held me close the whole time, his arms wrapped around me tight, and our bodies slick with sweat. It was the best I had ever felt, but thinking about it now just made me squirm with a mix of shame and lingering heat.
I couldn't stay in bed forever. Throwing off the covers, I swung my legs over the side and stood up gingerly. My muscles ached, especially my thighs, but I pushed through it. The bathroom was just across the room, and I padded over on bare feet, the cool floor tiles grounding me a bit. I turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the air.
The hot water cascaded over me, soothing the soreness. I lathered up with soap, washing away the remnants of last night, the faint stickiness between my legs, and the sweat-dried scent on my skin. As I rinsed, my mind wandered back again. Why had I been so insistent? Damien had been gentle, even when I was wild, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He'd checked my temperature and made sure I was okay.
Two glasses shouldn't have done that to me.
No one would have tampered with my drink, yeah?
The thought made my stomach twist.
By the time I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself, I felt a little more human. I dried off quickly, then rummaged through the closet for something comfortable. My eyes landed on one of Damien's polos. A soft gray cotton that smelled like him, clean and masculine. I slipped it on, the hem falling to mid-thigh, and didn't bother with anything else. It felt oddly intimate, wearing his clothes like this.
Barefoot, I headed downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under my weight. The house was quiet, except for faint sounds from the kitchen, the clinking pots and the sizzle of something cooking.
I paused at the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame without stepping in. Damien stood at the stove, his back to me, fully engrossed in whatever he was doing. His back was bare, muscles shifting smoothly as he stirred a pot. A pair of loose lounge pants hung low on his hips, the waistband riding just below the dimples at the base of his spine.
God, this man was just too hot without even trying. The way his shoulders broadened, and oh, I bit my lip, watching him for a moment longer, a small smile tugging at my mouth despite everything.
“Enjoying the view?” His voice broke the silence, low and teasing.
I widened my eyes, caught off guard. Heat rushed to my face again. “How did you know I was here?” I swallowed hard, stepping forward a bit.
He turned around slowly, pulling off the oven gloves and tossing them onto the counter. His eyes met mine, a soft smile playing on his lips as he moved toward me. Before I could say anything else, his hands cupped my cheeks, warm and gentle. He tilted my head up slightly, studying my face.
“Your temperature is back to normal,” he said, nodding to himself. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, lingering there for a second.
“W... well, yeah,” I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. His touch was so tender, and it made my chest tighten. I wanted to melt into him, but the embarrassment from last night held me back.
He released my face and turned back to the stove, picking up a ladle. 'Damien...' I started, my voice hesitant as I followed him a step closer.
“Last night was…” I tried again, but he cut me off without even looking back.
“Fun, amazing, and totally mind-blowing. Sit your ass down, and have this soup I'm about to serve you.”
I pressed my lips together, a soft smile breaking through despite myself.
His words were so casual, brushing off the weirdness like it was nothing. I nodded my head, whispering, “Okay.”
As I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, the aroma of the soup filled the air and Damien ladled it into a bowl and set it in front of me, along with a spoon. He sat across from me, his own bowl steaming. For a moment, we just ate in silence, the normalcy of it washing over me like the shower had.
But underneath, questions swirled. What had really happened last night?