Hailey
I rushed into my room, not even bothering to lock the door, and jumped into my bed, pulling the duvet over me. My breathing was frantic, my heart hammered against my chest, and sweat clung to my skin.
Jesus Christ! What the fuck had I just seen? And why did my body like it so damn much? There was no denying the truth: my body had reacted to the sight of Damien Black fucking a woman senseless over the kitchen counter. And maybe, just maybe, a sick, twisted, and crazy part of me wanted to be that woman-yes, I admitted it, because denying it wouldn’t wash away the desires crawling up my skin, the chills running down my spine, and the heat carving into my flesh.
I wanted to be in that woman’s place. I wanted Damien to fist my hair like that and fuck me raw.
“Fuck, I need to get a hold of myself,” I muttered, turning to the other side of the bed, not even daring to lift the duvet. I just wanted to hide and never come out, because despite the raw, aching desire, I felt ashamed to want a man like that. A man who was out of my bounds. Damien Black had women throwing themselves at him; they were just toys to him. If I gave in to my desires, I’d be nothing more than a toy to him, one among many in his conquest.
Fifteen minutes passed as I tossed and turned under the duvet, and sleep eluded me. I just wanted to sleep, to erase those images from my head, even though I knew they’d haunt my dreams, vivid and wet. But at least, before that happened, I hoped for a few hours of respite.
Fifteen minutes turned to thirty, and I realized I might not sleep at all tonight. Then the worst thing happened: I heard heavy footsteps approaching my room, and the fact that I hadn’t locked the door dawned on me, causing my eyes to widen.
Fuck! What do I do now?
For a second, I considered getting up to lock the door, but then I heard it creak open, and I froze. My hands clutched the duvet tighter, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to all the gods that he’d think I was asleep and go away.
But his steps came closer, and he stopped at the side of my bed, very close.
I am asleep-yes, I am asleep.
“I know you’re not asleep, Hailey,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “You can’t fool me. Drop the act.”
I didn’t respond, instead clutching the duvet tighter, cursing my decision to go to the kitchen for a beer. I could have survived without it-why did I bring this upon myself? Why?!
Suddenly, he grabbed the duvet and ripped it away, sending it flying to the other side of the room. The cold air hit my skin, causing goosebumps to rise all over. I knew I had to act quickly or else he’d win.
I sat up, pretending to be fuming. “Get the fuck out of my room, Damien!” I yelled, red and blushing. As much as I wanted to be in the place of that woman, I was also a bit jealous-I didn’t know why, but I was.
“This isn’t your daddy’s house, Hailey.” The mention of my dad made my blood run cold, but he continued without missing a beat. “So don’t think you can order me around.”
“Fine, you won’t get out, huh?” I slid off the bed, skirting around to the other side. “Then I’m leaving. Enjoy my bed, princess.” I darted toward the door, but a warm grip seized my hand. In an instant, I was pinned against the closed door, Damien’s body pressing into mine. His hands clamped around my wrists, holding them high above my head.
Damn it. He was quick, and I was too slow and fragile to fight off a beast like him.
“What are you trying to avoid, huh?” There was amusement in his eyes as he asked, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “Is it the fact that you’re turned on by that sight, or the fact that you wish you were the one bent over the kitchen counter with my cock inside your tight little cunt, rather than that woman whose resemblance to you caught my eye at the strip club?”
Holy shit!
My stupid heart…. it felt like it would explode.
He was so fucking bold and so brutally honest with his words, while I could never be. If I had been even one percent honest about my emotions, I’d have been the one bent over the counter tonight. I’d have been the one he fucked.
But I wasn’t as bold as Damien or as honest. So instead of admitting the truth, I shouted, “Get out of the fucking bubble, Damien. Not every woman wants you-I don’t want you. Do you hear me? I. Don’t. Want. You.” I pressed, but instead of anger or anything else, it was still the same sick amusement on his face that made my stomach twist and turn in a different manner.
Even now, while I pretended to be angry, I was wet and aching, imagining that one percent chance where he’d slip his hand inside my shorts and touch my bare pussy discovering how wet I was. My, oh my, I could only wonder how good his hand would feel.
“So you say you don’t want me, huh?” His hand moved to grab my jaw, tilting my face so his gaze bore into mine. I could smell his breath, the fresh whiskey, and his cologne-he smelled delicious, tempting me to dart my tongue out and lick his lips for a quick taste.
“Then tell me, Bunny,” he asked, low and huskily, the smirk on his face never wavering, “how is it that despite saying you don’t want me, you keep having those wet dreams about me and touching yourself thinking about me?”
Oh no…