Chapter Eleven
Damien
M y little flower is a narcotic. My little flower is a drug. My little flower is my high, everything I could ever need or want.
I breathe, sleep, and eat this girl. She's carved into my bones, woven into my blood. If someone cut me open, her name would pour out. She's the only person in this godforsaken world I've ever opened up to; and the only one I ever will.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll tell her everything. Just like she’ll tell me all of her secrets. There will be nothing between us. We are one.
I’m giving her time to understand this. To let the truth seep into her skin, to let it settle into her soul. But it’s getting harder.
Harder to pretend I don’t notice the way she bites her lip when she’s thinking.
Harder to act like I don’t see the heat creeping up her neck when I lean in too close.
Harder not to pin her down and show her exactly how her man can worship her; how he can make her feel like the goddess she is.
I want to kneel at her feet, lap at her essence, and thank her for letting my filthy hands touch her pure skin. I want to ruin her so completely that when she closes her eyes, the only thing she sees is me.
I want her moaning my name in prayer, whispering it like it’s the only salvation she has left.
But for now, I wait.
The rifle is steady in my hands, pressed firm against my shoulder as I watch my target. I haven’t been able to accompany my girl to work these past few days as I’ve been catching up on all the hits I’d ignored in favor of sleeping under her bed.
My eyes never stray from Edward Moore. One of the biggest drug dealers in the underground. You wanted a hit of something rare? He had it.
Had being the key word.
Because Edward Moore decided to repent. Decided to go clean. Decided he could screw over the very people who made him, missing shipments to gangs who had already paid.
Now, they all want him dead.
And who better for the job than me?
I exhale, lining up the shot. He’s sitting in his car, oblivious that these are his final seconds. My finger tightens on the trigger, and I fire. The bullet finds its mark, right between his eyes. He crumples instantly, slumping forward onto the wheel, a fine mist of red splattering the windshield.
The job is done.
And now, I have something far more important to return to. My little flower is waiting.
The moment I pull onto the main road, my phone vibrates. Unknown number. Not uncommon as most of my clients use burners, keeping their names and sins hidden. I answer without a second thought.
“Damien?” a woman sing-songs.
My brows furrow as I try to place her. Lina? Luna? Something with an L.
She answers the unspoken question. “It’s Linda.”
Ah.
The blonde with the diamonds and the entitled attitude. The one who, despite being old enough to know better, still believes the world bends to her will.
I don’t respond. I wait.
“I was thinking about you,” she purrs. “We had such a connection, don’t you think?”
This woman is either delusional or stupid.
“What. Do. You. Want.” My voice is a growl, stripped of patience.
She laughs like I’m teasing her. “Oh, Damien, don’t be so cold.”
My irritation edges toward something dangerous. “I don’t do small talk. What the fuck do you want?”
There’s a pause. Then she tries again, her voice syrupy and false. “I just thought… maybe we could see each other outside of business.”
Rage floods me. It’s ice-cold and blinding.
“That’s never going to happen.” My words slice through her delusion.
She shrieks in outrage, the sound grating in my ear.
Before I can end the call, she blurts, “Wait! I have another hit I need you to do.”
Does she think I’ll humor her just because her daddy pays me for a couple of hits?
My teeth grind together. “Let your father communicate it to me.”
“But—”
“Any more of this nonsense and tell Richard I won’t pick up another job for him. Ever.”
She exhales sharply. “Fine.”
I hang up before she can say another word. If she thinks she can dangle work over my head to get what she wants, she’s dead wrong. I don’t need their money. I’ve got seven figures stacked away. Investments that multiply by the second. If I wanted to, I could put down the rifle today and never touch it again.
No one holds anything over me anymore.
And I will never, ever , belong to anyone but my little flower.
I arrive and sneak in like usual.
My little flower is lying in that pathetic excuse of a room, fast asleep. The world isn’t ready for what I’ll become if I have to keep watching her work her fingers to the bone and sleep in a fucking storage room.
She needs to let me in.
This is all I have… her . The obsession. The addiction. The hunger that gnaws at my insides. It’s all-consuming. It threatens to break me apart.
But not yet.
Not until I have her.
I open one of the drawers next to her bed, suppressing the violent emotions I feel at how little she owns. That won’t do. My girl deserves the world. White cotton panties catch my eye. I fist them in my hand, bringing them to my face and sniffing like a rabid dog. But it smells like nothing but detergent.
Disappointing.
I want to smell her. Taste her. I want what’s between her lush little thighs.
She stirs, slowly waking up. Those wide, innocent eyes blink open. Confusion clouds her face for a moment before realization hits. She shoots upright, the thin sheet sliding off her body.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is groggy.
I lift the scrap of cotton between my fingers. “These were in your drawer. So clean. So pure. That won’t last long, little flower.”
And it won’t. I’m going to fuck her so thoroughly, she’ll never find a pair of clean panties again. Everything she presses between her legs will be soaked with my seed.
She turns bright red, like a rose. “Give those back,” she hisses; but I don’t miss the flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
“Come and take them.”
She shakes her head. Like she knows what’ll happen if she gets closer.
I crouch down in front of her. “You’re afraid of me,” I murmur, letting my knuckles graze her thighs. “But not enough to run.”
“I—”
“Hush.” I place a finger on her soft lips. “I want to teach you something.”
“Teach me what?”
I grin. Dark. Satisfied.
“Everything.”
She trembles with a mix of fear and something else.
Something hotter. “What do you mean?”
“You’re so innocent,” I grunt. “You don’t even realize the power you have over me, do you? You make me lose control.”
“How do I do that? I’m not trying to,” she mutters, pouting, confused.
She doesn’t even have to try. She could wiggle a finger at me, and I’d drop to my knees. The fabric of her nightgown clings to her skin, her nipples hard and visible through the thin material; begging to be sucked.
I guide her hands to my waist. Her fingers hover at my waistband, hesitant, but she doesn’t pull away. I guide her hand lower until she feels the hardness of my cock through my jeans.
“This is what you do to me,” I whisper, barely holding myself back. She’s been sheltered. She doesn’t know anything about men. And she won’t, no one but me.
Her fingers twitch, grazing against me. “Do you understand now?” I ask, pressing her hand a little firmer. “ You’re the reason I’m like this.”
“Why is it… why does it happen when I’m near you?” It’s like she’s trying to understand something too big, too overwhelming.
I tilt her chin up to look at me. “Because you’re everything I want, little flower. You’re everything I need.”
Reluctantly, I move her hand to my chest. “Feel that?” I hum. “Feel how fast my heart is beating? That’s because of you. You make me feel alive.”
After a long, heated silence, her voice is barely a whisper. “And when you... feel like this... what happens?”
“I suffer,” I say. “I crave relief. But more than that, I crave you .”
I study the flush blooming up her neck, the subtle way her thighs shift.
“And how do you…?” She’s unsure how to phrase it. But I know exactly what she’s asking.
“Watch me,” I command.
I give her a moment to absorb what’s happening. Then I begin. I reach down, unzipping my jeans, and free my cock. Shock floods her face. I’d bet my entire fortune she’s never seen one before.
That fact pleases me immensely .
“Let me explain,” I say. “This… part of me, my cock, it reacts. You can see it. The way it pulses. The way it aches.”
I stroke myself slowly, loving how she can’t decide whether to look at my face or my cock.
“Yeah, little flower. Enjoy it. Look at it. It’s the only cock you’ll ever know.”
I move faster now, working myself hard. The air is thick with tension. Her confusion. Her curiosity. Her arousal. It’s intoxicating.
I’m close. So fucking close. “Watch me,” I grunt. “Watch how your man spills, how he breaks for you.”
The wave crashes. White floods my vision. I come, hot and thick. Her name is a mantra on my lips.
Amelia. My Amelia . My little flower.
I aim for the underwear I took from her drawer. The fabric now holds all of me . All of my come.
I hold it out to her, the evidence of my release still fresh on the material.
“Wear it,” I order. “Let your pussy get accustomed to the seed it will take for the rest of its lifetime.”
She bites her lip, fidgeting with her fingers. I know her, she can’t decide whether to cling to her innocence, to her sanity, or to the way I make her pussy drip.
She fights with herself a little longer before making her decision. Slowly, she slides the underwear she’s wearing off, letting it drop to the floor. She does it properly; in a way that doesn’t let me see what’s mine between her legs.
I don’t miss the irony.
With a trembling hand, she picks up the pair I’ve offered her.
She slides it on, bathing her little cunt in her stalker’s release. She shudders as she adjusts herself, not yet accustomed to the feel of her monster.
The hunger in me intensifies. Before she can stop me, I lunge for the pair she took off; the ones that were pressed against her cunt.
I grip them, pulling them to my face, and groan, the sound primal and desperate. I inhale her scent like an animal, my lips brushing against the fabric. I lick and suck at it, tasting her essence.
I want to taste it straight from the source, but I need her more desperate for me before I do that. I need her so horny she won’t resist.
Fuck, I’m an animal for this woman, and I don’t care who sees or knows.