Hailey
At night, sleep didn’t find me. Frustration cocooned me instead.
And God, I couldn’t stop thinking about Damien. The feel of his lips on mine, his tongue claiming my mouth, the possessiveness of his touch searing my skin. His breath against my pussy, his tongue on my clit, his hand gripping my hair, and, of course, his cock down my throat.
It was infuriating-how little self-respect I seemed to have when it came to him. How could I still want him when he was off fucking someone else’s mouth? Especially after everything… after I’d bared my soul to him, shared the darkest, most fragile parts of me.
How could he?
I’d asked myself that question a thousand times today, and every time, the answer was the same: because he didn’t give a fuck. Simple as that.
Even Isla agreed. I couldn’t keep my affair with Damien hidden from her for long. She hated him now, though that didn’t stop her from teasing me mercilessly.
“You wanted to be her, didn’t you?” she’d said with a wicked grin. “You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat.”
God, she was infuriating. But she was also my best friend, and I loved her for it, even if her advice was hit-or-miss.
I huffed out a breath, running a hand through my tangled hair as I sat up and threw the duvet off my body. I knew exactly why I couldn’t sleep. The frustration wasn’t just emotional-it was physical. My body ached, unfulfilled and restless. I was officially sexually frustrated.
If Damien could have his fun, why couldn’t I?
No, I wasn’t about to throw myself at some random guy in the middle of the night. Maybe later. For now, I’d have to rely on my hands.
Letting out a sigh, I slipped my hand under my shorts, my fingers brushing over my aching clit. To my surprise-and embarrassment-I was already wet.
How the hell am I wet when I’ve been hating him all day?
A groan escaped me. “I’m not thinking about that asshole while I’m doing this!” I muttered, mentally shoving him out of my thoughts and imagining him getting thrown out a window in one of his stupidly expensive suits.
Focusing on the moment, I began circling my clit, building a slow, steady rhythm. My hips started to tremble, pleasure spreading through me like a wildfire. But just as I felt myself slipping into it, an image of Damien’s tongue on me flashed in my mind.
I froze.
“What the fuck,” I hissed, pulling my hand back.
What in the damn hell was wrong with me?
Why is he always there?
“Focus, Hailey,” I muttered, trying to coax myself back. “You can do this.”
Never in my life had I thought that masturbation could become a chore. It had always been easy-until that asshole.
My fingers slid up and down my slit, returning to my clit, my wetness coating them before I slowly pushed them inside. A soft moan spilled from my lips, low and needy, but just as I started to lose myself in the rhythm, it hit me.
I could feel his breath against my neck, warm and tantalizing, as if he were really there. And then, his voice echoed in my mind, deep and commanding: “I might destroy you.”
Fuck.
“That’s it!” I snapped, yanking my hand out of my shorts and flopping back against the bed in sheer frustration. “I am not fucking doing this if that asshole keeps-”
Before I could finish my rant, a knock cut through the silence, startling me.
I froze, heart racing. Was the knock real, or was my mind playing tricks on me again?
“Who is it?” I called, half-curious and half-hoping I was imagining things.
But then, as if my sinful little ritual had summoned him, his voice came through, smooth and low with a hint of amusement-the devil himself.
“It’s me.”
This piece of shit…
The nerve of him to show up here.
“Fuck. Off.” I snapped, my voice sharp, but instead of retreating footsteps, the door creaked open, and I gasped.
God. I didn’t lock it?!
The entire time I’d been doing this… the door hadn’t been locked.
Holy-
My chaotic thoughts scattered as Damien stepped inside, wearing nothing but low-slung trousers that hung dangerously at his V-line, teasing a trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband. His torso, carved to sinful perfection, glistened faintly in the dim light, and his disheveled hair made him look every bit like the devil incarnate.
I fought to keep my gaze on his face-a face just as destructive as the rest of him-and not let it wander further.
Fucking Lucifer’s descendant.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I barked not caring about the fact that my thighs were spread and my fingers were glistening with my own fluid, “Did you not hear me?! I told you to fuck off!”
Damien didn’t flinch. Instead, he sauntered toward me with maddening calm, ignoring my words entirely. Before I could stop him, he grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded, trying to wrench away from his grip.
His stormy grey eyes flicked to my hand-no, my fingers-and I felt the weight of his gaze. A flicker of something primal passed through those eyes before he locked them with mine, rendering me speechless.
Then, slowly, he brought my hand to his mouth.
I froze, watching in horrified fascination as he took my fingers past his lips, his tongue swirling around them. The warm, wet sensation sent a shiver rippling through me, an involuntary reaction that betrayed every ounce of resistance I was trying to summon.
My knees buckled slightly, my breath hitching at the sight of him. His mouth on me felt too intimate, too reminiscent of all the ways he had unraveled me before. My body reacted, heat pooling low in my core despite the war raging in my head. It was impossible for me to say that I was not utterly fucking turned on right now.
Damien released my fingers with a quiet pop, his eyes never leaving mine. “Sweet,” he murmured, his free hand snaking around my waist to pull me closer.
Our bodies collided-mine soft and trembling, his hard and unyielding. The air between us grew suffocating, thick with tension. His gaze bore into me with a mix of desire, possession, and something else I couldn’t name, something I didn’t want to see.
He looked at me with a familiarity that I’d seen in those orbs in his office, that day when I went to his room with the excuse of homework or whenever I dreamt of him.
But then as he leaned in to kiss me, and my body hung on the edge of surrender, my conscious came crashing back and reality clashed with the world of imagination.
I turned my head sharply, my breathing uneven. “This is not happening,” I forced out, my voice shaky but firm. “I’m not some toy you can play with when it suits you and discard when you’re done.”
His reply came calm, cutting through my defenses. “I was never bored of you, Hailey.”
The words scraped against the walls I’d so carefully built. That voice-low, deliberate, and laced with a sincerity I didn’t want to believe-shook me to my core. I felt weak in my knees.
I fucking hated this man but he got it….
He got what I meant to say even thought I couldn’t say it with words.
But that didn’t fucking matter. I was not letting him in again and break me all over.
I straightened, meeting his gaze, though my resolve wavered because of how close we were-our bodies still pressed together, our breathing meting into one another and our lips.. almost there but not touching, “But I am a toy to you, aren’t I? To be specific-another toy in your fucking conquest that you can get rid off any time-it’s all so easy for you. As if I am your dirty little secret. Something you can use, get satisfied with, and toss aside when you’re done. That’s all I’ve ever been to you-a fucking object.”
His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened as he cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my jawline with agonizing gentleness. “You’re not a toy,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a tremor through me. “You’re mine. I own you.”
His lips grazed mine, his breath hot against my skin. “No one touches you. No one gets to have you-only me. I own every part of you.”
This sick, twisted bastard…
“No, you fucking don’t!” I shoved at his chest, though it was like trying to move a wall. “If you want to screw around, fine. But don’t you dare try to control me. I’ll do whatever I damn well please! If I want to fuck someone-I fucking will!”
His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides as tension radiated off him like a storm barely contained.
“You will not let another man touch you,” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous warning.
“Yes, I-”
Before I could finish, his hand shot up, gripping the back of my neck as he slammed his lips against mine.