Twice Claimed: Bound by the Billionaire

Chapter Fourteen

Noah stands in the doorway. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move - just watches. The sunlight streaming from the hall windows haloes him in gold, but his expression is unreadable. Hurt? Anger? Something else entirely? I can’t tell. My pulse stutters as Damian turns to face him, every muscle taut.

“Noah.” His voice is low, dangerous. A warning. A plea.

Noah doesn’t answer. His eyes flick from Damien to me, then back again, the silence between us all stretching, thick and unbearable.

Finally, he turns and walks away.

The sound of his footsteps fade down the hall, but the echo lingers - lodged in the space between us like a heartbeat that won’t quiet. I exhale shakily and realize I’ve been trembling.

Damien’s jaw tightens.

“He shouldn’t have -“

“He saw,” I whisper. “Whatever this was between you - it’s not over.”

Damien doesn’t deny it.

Outside, thunder rolls again over Bel Air, closer this time, as if the whole house has decided to remember something it shouldn’t.

— ### —-

Noah

I storm down the hall as though the hounds of hell are at my heels, my footsteps echoing loudly on the marble. The thunder that growls overhead is lighter now; the storm outside is lessening.

Not so inside of me. Chaos rolls in my chest, the image of Damien’s new bride kneeling before him, sucking his c**k as my old friend shut his eyes in ecstasy burning in my brain.

I wasn’t angry when I found them like that. Not really. What had made me furious was me - my heart, my desires - everything I thought had left me with Elena.

Before I even realize it, I’m in my old bedroom. It’s clean, but completely unchanged - same four-poster bed, same modern paintings on the walls, same large wardrobe in the corner, one of my first awards on the bookcase and one of my first gold records on the far wall. Ironic that it has stood as though frozen in time while everything else has crumbled apart. I grip the dresser, breathing ragged and heavy.

I shut my eyes. A woman’s face appears - but not Elena’s this time.

Sienna.

It’s so easy to imagine her kneeling before me, f*****g me with that sweet mouth, touching me with her elegant hands.

My own c**k twitches and I hurry to unzip my pants, then lightly fist it. Just for relief, I tell myself. Just for a minute or two. But the heat, the arousal are too hard, too much, and I start to stroke myself. Lightly at first, then harder, faster. Images of Sienna appear in my head, writhing beneath me, long legs wrapped around my hips and ass.

I pick up speed, tilting my head back as I retreat further into fantasy. Damian’s in the picture now, watching. Claiming Sienna’s mouth in an open kiss. And then, turning to me -

I shout an oath, ejaculate shooting out of me. The orgasm is intense and lasts a seemingly endless time. At the end of it, I stumble over to the bed and sink down, catching my breath again.

She’s Damien’s wife now, I think in disgust. I shouldn’t be thinking this way, feeling this way.

But another part of me - the part that still bleeds - whispers: She shouldn’t have looked at him like that. Shouldn’t have knelt for him like that.

It should’ve been me,

I hastily wipe the c*m with my shirt, rise to my feet again, and blindly punching my fist into the nearest wall. The crashing sound startles even me.

Eyes burning, hand throbbing, I pull open a drawer.

The photograph is still there - my own copy of the photograph Sienna found.

I stare at it, and memory intrudes: Elena’s laugh, brighter than sunlight. Her hands entangled with Damien’s and mine, the golden sun on her shoulders.. And then everything was dark.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like that,” I whisper.

The memory fades with the thunder, replaced by thoughts of Sienna’s throaty murmurs and Damien’s gasps.

A knock on the door tears through my thoughts.

“Noah.” Damien’s voice was low and hoarse.

Concerned.. Or just as haunted as I am?