Claimed by My Ex's Half-Brother-Chapter 152 You taste like heaven

Victoria’s POV

But instead of entering me, he slid down my body, his mouth leaving a trail of hot kisses across my stomach, moving lower. When his tongue swiped through my folds, I bucked against his face.

"Fuck, you taste like heaven," he groaned against my core, his hands holding my thighs apart. "I could feast on you for hours."

His tongue circled my clit with expert precision before he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth. Two fingers pushed inside me, curling to hit that spot that made me see stars.

"Damien!" I cried out, my hands fisting in the sheets.

He knew my body so well now, knew exactly how to touch me, how to lick me, how to make me come apart. His fingers pumped in and out while his tongue worked magic on my clit.

My orgasm built rapidly, coiling tight in my lower belly. "I’m close," I warned, my voice breaking.

He doubled his efforts, adding a third finger and stretching me deliciously. The pressure of his mouth increased, and I shattered, crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Before I could recover, Damien was above me, positioning himself at my entrance. He pushed inside in one powerful thrust, filling me completely. The sensation of his thick cock stretching me made me moan, my still-pulsing walls clenching around him.

"Mine," he growled, his eyes glowing with Arthur’s presence. "Say it, Victoria. Say you’re mine."

"I’m yours," I gasped as he began to move, setting a punishing pace.

His hips snapped against mine, each thrust driving him deeper. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.

"No one else touches you," he snarled, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "No one else fucks you. No one else makes you scream. Only me."

"Only you," I agreed, wrapping my legs around his waist to take him deeper.

He released my wrists to grab my ass, lifting me slightly to change the angle. The new position allowed him to hit my g-spot with every thrust, and I felt another orgasm building.

"Look at me," he commanded. "I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock."

I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The connection was electric, intimate in a way that transcended the physical act. For a moment, I could see past his arrogance and anger, glimpsing something vulnerable and desperate in his expression.

"Damien," I whispered, reaching up to touch his face.

Something in my voice or touch seemed to break his control. His rhythm faltered, becoming erratic. "Fuck, Victoria," he groaned, driving into me harder. "I can’t—I need—"

"Come for me," I urged, clenching around him deliberately.

With a roar that was more wolf than man, he thrust deep and stilled, his release flooding me. The pulsing of his cock inside me triggered my own orgasm, and I came again, my vision blurring at the edges.

He collapsed on top of me, his weight pleasant and grounding. For several minutes, we lay there, our hearts racing in tandem, our breaths mingling.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, keeping me close against him. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back as our breathing slowed.

I expected him to fall asleep immediately – he’d been drunk and exhausted before this second round – but instead, he tilted my chin up, studying my face with an intensity that made me squirm.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"You’re not what I expected," he said softly, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip.

"Is that good or bad?"

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Definitely good."

He pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin. His heartbeat steady against my ear, I drifted off to sleep, surrounded by his warmth and scent.

I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the delicious ache between my thighs that reminded me of the night before. Turning my head, I found Damien already awake, watching me with those penetrating gray eyes.

"Morning," I mumbled, suddenly aware of my morning breath and bed hair.

"Morning," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

The events of yesterday came flooding back – my grandfather’s hostility toward him, Patrick’s sudden appearance, the bruised look on Patrick’s face that Damien had, with a straight face, denied causing.

Sitting up, I pulled the sheet around me. "Since you’re awake, you can leave now," I said, adopting a casual tone. "No need to thank me for last night. I don’t know why you were drinking so heavily, but don’t take what my grandfather said too personally. He’s protective of me after what happened with Ethan. He doesn’t like anyone with the Sterling name. If he said anything offensive, please understand he’s from a different generation."

Damien’s eyes narrowed. "I’m not angry!"

I knew better. My grandfather’s words hadn’t bothered him – we both knew that. What had triggered his drinking and subsequent mood was either Patrick Wagner’s presence or something I had done. The Alpha in him had been wounded, and that wound likely had a name: Patrick.

"Well, if you’re not angry," I said lightly, "then I guess you can be on your way now?"

The look he gave me could have frozen hell itself.

"So you believe everything Wagner says but nothing I say?" he demanded, sitting up fully.

I blinked innocently. "That’s not true. You just said you weren’t angry, and I believed you."

His jaw clenched visibly, and I could see Arthur’s golden glow flickering at the edges of his irises – a sign his wolf was agitated.

"I’m kidding," I said quickly, seeing his mounting frustration. "Since when are you so easily provoked, Mr. Sterling? And since when do you say one thing but mean another? You’re clearly angry but claiming you’re not. One last chance to tell me the truth – did you really not fight with Patrick yesterday?"

Instead of answering directly, he countered with another question. "Why are you asking? Are you concerned about me, or about him?"

"I know you’re not someone who starts fights without reason," I explained. "Patrick and I haven’t seen each other for years and barely keep in touch. I just find it strange that he would injure himself. And yesterday, you left before I could even ask what happened. You didn’t give yourself a chance to explain."

"Why should I explain if I didn’t do anything?" he retorted.

"If you don’t explain, how am I supposed to know you didn’t do anything?" I countered.

Sighing, I continued, "Let’s just drop it. What’s past is past. If you want to visit my grandfather again, let me know beforehand so I can warn him. It might make things easier."

Damien’s expression darkened further. "How long is Wagner planning to stay at your place?"

"He’s already looking for his own place," I assured him. "Besides, he’s staying with my grandfather, not with me." As long as I didn’t have to see Patrick regularly, I could manage. The memories associated with him were too painful, too entangled with the betrayal I’d suffered.

Damien’s eyes narrowed, that possessive energy radiating from him in waves. "I don’t want him anywhere near you."

"That’s not your decision to make," I said firmly, even as Nora whined in approval at his possessiveness.

In a flash, he was on top of me, pinning me to the bed. "The fuck it isn’t," he growled, his face inches from mine. "You’re mine, Victoria. Mine to protect, mine to pleasure, mine to claim."

His mouth crashed down on mine, stealing my breath and my protest in one scorching kiss. His hand slipped beneath the sheet, finding me already wet for him.

"Tell me to stop," he challenged, his fingers circling my entrance. "Tell me you don’t want this – don’t want me."

I couldn’t lie, not when my body betrayed me so thoroughly. "I want you," I admitted, arching into his touch.

With a satisfied growl, he pushed two fingers inside me, his thumb finding my clit. "Wagner will never touch you," he vowed, his fingers pumping in and out. "No one touches what’s mine."

His possessiveness should have angered me – I was my own person, not a possession – but instead, it sent heat pooling between my legs. Damien sensed my response, adding a third finger and curling them to hit that perfect spot.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Say you’re mine."

"I’m yours," I gasped, feeling my orgasm building already. "Damien, please—"

"Please what?" he teased, slowing his movements to a torturous pace.

"Please fuck me," I begged shamelessly.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Positioning himself between my thighs, he pushed inside me in one powerful thrust. I cried out at the delicious stretch, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"This cunt belongs to me," he growled, establishing a brutal rhythm. "This pleasure belongs to me. These sounds you make belong to me."

Each thrust emphasized his words, driving me closer to the edge. His hand gripped my throat, not cutting off my air but asserting his dominance in the most primal way.

"Only I get to hear you scream," he continued, his eyes glowing with Arthur’s presence. "Only I get to make you come. Say it, Victoria."

"Only you," I moaned, the pressure building to an unbearable level. "Only you, Damien. I’m yours."

His grip on my throat tightened slightly as he fucked me harder, the bed frame hitting the wall with each powerful thrust. The slight edge of danger, combined with the fullness of him inside me, pushed me over the edge. I came with a scream, my walls clenching around his cock.

He followed moments later, his release hot inside me as he growled my name against my neck. Collapsing beside me, he pulled me against his chest, his possessive grip still firm even in the aftermath.