Hailey
As Damien drove me to college, I fought to suppress the heat rising to my cheeks, desperate to appear normal. The problem was, normal had become a foreign concept around him. I couldn’t understand how Damien could act so unaffected, so casually indifferent, after everything that had happened between us.
His gaze-always so intense-remained the same, but he didn’t say anything to acknowledge the unspoken tension crackling between us. No teasing remarks. No sly smirks. Just Damien Black. He was unapologetically himself, like none of it mattered. Like he hadn’t had me pinned against his office desk, fucked me with his fingers, making me lose every shred of self-control.
And the devil now drove like this was just another mundane morning of playing the dutiful stepbrother. As if his hands hadn’t explored every inch of me. As if he hadn’t unraveled me completely, leaving me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.
I bit the inside of my cheek, my fingers nervously fidgeting in my lap as my eyes stayed glued to the road ahead. Looking at him felt dangerous-like stepping too close to the edge of a cliff.
He made me feel things. Strange, forbidden things.
I hated it. But I couldn’t stop.
And just as I tried to push those thoughts away, I felt it-a rough, warm palm resting on my thigh.
I jolted.
“Damien!” I gasped, whipping my head toward him. “What are you doing?”
His eyes flicked to me, dark and glinting with mischief. “Just making my morning a little more interesting,” he said smoothly, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.
“What do you-” My words were cut off as his hand slid beneath my skirt, his fingers brushing over the thin fabric of my panties.
A sharp intake of breath escaped me as I pressed myself back against the seat, trying to create distance. My hand shot out, gripping his wrist in a desperate attempt to stop him.
He chuckled, low and dangerous, as though my resistance only spurred him on. His fingers traced up and down my pussy, the barrier of my panties doing little to shield me from the sensations. A shiver coursed through me, and I fought to suppress the bone-deep tremble threatening to take over.
“If I slip my fingers under these panties right now, Bunny,” he murmured, his eyes dipping to where his hand moved, “would I find you wet?”
“Damien…” My voice was barely a whisper, trembling as I tried to summon any semblance of control.
“Or,” he continued, a dark smirk curving his lips, “would you just soak my fingers right through this fabric?”
My breathing quickened, every word igniting a fire in my core that I tried desperately to douse.
He let out a soft, amused hum, his tone now contemplative. “But the college isn’t far, is it? And I don’t like it when I don’t have time to fully play with this pussy.”
I stared at him, speechless, my grip on his wrist tightening. My world narrowed to the heat of his hand, the sound of his voice, and the car that smelled so distinctly of him-his cologne, cigarettes, Armani, and something raw, something dangerous.
I felt utterly overpowered. Vulnerable. My knees felt weak, my resolve thinner than ever. Damien had this uncanny ability to bend me to his will, to strip away my defenses piece by piece. And the worst part? A dark, shameful part of me might just let him. Even if it meant letting him walk all over my ashes.
“For now,” he murmured, his voice dripping with quiet amusement, “I’ll just give myself something to stay entertained until I have you at my mercy again.”
The smirk that curved his lips was maddening, especially as he deliberately lingered on the word mercy. His hand, warm and unapologetic, slid upward, brushing against my hip. My breath hitched as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of my pants, tugging them downward with an agonizing slowness.
“Damien, what are you doing?” My voice wavered between shock and alarm as I grabbed his wrist.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t even hesitate. “Taking something that carries a touch of what’s mine,” he said, his tone deceptively casual, as though he were discussing the weather.
With one swift motion, he dragged the fabric down to my ankles. Heat surged to my cheeks, the blush unmistakable as I fumbled to protest.
“Damien, no! I can’t go to college like this!”
He straightened, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “No one at that college would dare to even look at you, Hailey,” he said, his words calm but laced with an unmistakable edge. “So drop those ridiculous worries and give it to me.”
“Absolutely not-”
“Either you take it off yourself, or I stop this car right here in the middle of the road and do it for you.”
My breath caught at his words, a mix of disbelief and reluctant anticipation pooling in my chest. The worst part was knowing he’d do it-there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He always followed through.
I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I slid the fabric from my ankles. The heat flooding my face was unbearable-my cheeks burned crimson, and even the tips of my ears felt like they were on fire. Avoiding his gaze, I held it out to him, barely able to keep my grip steady.
A victorious smirk curved his lips as he took the delicate piece of fabric from my hand, the gesture slow and deliberate. Without a word, he stuffed it into his pocket, his satisfaction evident in the glint in his eyes.
Then, before I could register what was happening, he leaned closer. The space between us disappeared, his hand gripping my jaw with a firm but measured hold. His breath was warm against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine as he whispered, “Keep being a good girl like this, and I’ll show you everything that beautiful cunt of yours has never dreamed of.” And then his lips pressed against mine.
***
That kiss lingered on my lips the entire day, an unshakable ghost of his touch. I tried everything to ignore it-the sensations, the urges, and most of all, the persistent ache between my thighs. But the more I tried to push it away, the harder it became.
Worse, I had an exercise class coming up, and I needed my fucking panties back.
The idea of confronting Damien was infuriating, but I had no choice. Avoiding everyone’s gaze, I slipped away and made my way to his office. I wasn’t even sure he’d be there-Damien rarely showed up to the college. According to one of the maids, his presence was more symbolic than anything. He threw money at the institution whenever needed but rarely bothered to show up himself. Classic Damien: detached yet in control.
I knocked twice on his office door, half-hoping for silence. Instead, his deep, commanding voice came through. “Come in.”
My stomach dropped. How easily sound traveled from this office made me wonder-had anyone heard my moans earlier? The thought made my cheeks burn.
Swallowing my nerves, I opened the door and stepped inside. Damien was seated at his desk, jacket discarded, a cup of what I assumed was black coffee in his hand. The bitter drink suited him. Just as bitter as his attitude.
His gaze lifted to meet mine, and for a moment, he just stared. His eyes moved slowly, starting at my feet before lingering on my skirt. His lips twitched as if he knew, his pupils darkening at the reminder of the garment he’d stolen. When his gaze finally reached my face, his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, a gesture that sent an involuntary shiver through me.
“Well, hello, Bunny,” he said, his voice rich and low, like a melody designed to unravel me.
I shut the door behind me, forcing myself to stay composed. “I need my panties back.”
At my blunt statement, his lips curved into a smirk. Amusement danced in his eyes as he took a slow sip of his coffee. “Come here,” he said, motioning with his hand.
I folded my arms, staying put. “No.”
His laugh was deep and warm, yet somehow menacing. Setting his cup aside, he stood and began closing the distance between us. “Why do you need them back, anyway?”
“Because I have an exercise class,” I replied, irritation bubbling in my tone.
“I didn’t realize they made you exercise in nothing but undergarments,” he mused, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Maybe I should have a word with your gym teacher.”
“They don’t,” I snapped, my frustration spilling over. “But it’s uncomfortable to do it without-”
He was in front of me before I could finish, his hands planting firmly on either side of my head, trapping me against the door. His face was close-too close. His warm breath ghosted across my cheek, igniting something I tried desperately to ignore.
“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “pretty things like you don’t need to exercise.” His hand slid down, circling my waist possessively. “They need proper care.”
In one swift motion, he lifted me, setting me on the edge of his desk.
“I know exactly how to take care of what’s mine,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Better than some stupid gym teacher ever could.”
Before I could respond, his lips crushed against mine.