Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Damien
She’s wearing purple silk that matches the sheets I bought her.
A babydoll that barely covers anything, lace so delicate it’s practically transparent.
My cock strains against my zipper, threatening to tear through the metal.
But it’s not just lust that slams into me.
It’s something deeper, more dangerous. Something that tightens like a fist around my lungs, sending tremors through my fingers.
I want to tear that silk away and claim every inch of her skin. I want to rip off this goddamn mask and show her exactly who kissed her less than two hours ago.
But I can’t. Because I’m the asshole hiding behind metal and lies.
She rubs her throat, where fresh bruises will paint her skin by morning, coughing low and steady as she blinks away the moisture welling in her eyes.
But she doesn’t cower. She never cowers.
Inside me, two beasts tear at each other. One snarls in rage that she kissed another man. The other throbs with the ache of her lips pressed against mine. The fury of the first wants to punish her. The hunger of the second can’t unlearn the taste of her.
My jaw clenches until the muscles scream. I want to wreck her and worship her at the same time. Tear her apart, then collect the fragments and cherish them before putting her back together.
That kiss awakened something I thought long dead. I hate her for bringing it back to life, this soft and dangerous feeling that fills me with equal parts fury and desperation.
But it's seared itself into my memory. The way she tasted, the quiet gasp when my tongue met hers, and how she leaned in when she should have pulled away.
She makes me want more. Everything. Her body already belongs to me, but her heart and soul remain out of reach.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
“Tell me, did kissing him make you wet?” My tone is mocking, but my heart feels like it’s tearing itself out of my chest. “If I slipped my fingers into your cunt right now, would I find you drenched? Wet from the feel of his lips on yours?”
Her eyes snap up to mine. Regret flickers there for a heartbeat before her expression hardens. Her chin lifts, exposing the pale column of her throat. She’s breathtaking when she looks at me like that, like not even her fear will conquer her.
“Don’t lie to me, Luna. I deserve your honesty.”
That’s a fucking joke. I’m the liar here.
“And what if I am wet? I’m always wet when you come to me.”
“Yes. But it’s usually for me. Not for another man.”
She laughs, but it’s brittle. “You want me to deny it? You know I kissed him.” She holds my gaze without blinking. Moonlight glints off her tears. “I won’t lie about it. But I won’t be ashamed either. A man actually wanted to kiss me tonight. And maybe it was goddamn nice to be wanted that way.”
The air between us shivers. “I don’t make you feel wanted?”
Her lips press into a line. “In some ways, you do. In other ways, you don’t.”
My blood runs ice-cold. How could I have ever made her feel unwanted?
I need to know.
“What is it about him that made you want to betray what we have?”
“What we have? What exactly do we have? You come into my house at night, fuck me until my head spins, then disappear before dawn. We don’t talk, we don’t kiss, I don’t even know who you are. So tell me, what exactly am I betraying?”
Her words slice into me. They’re true. I’ve given her only my body. Never my face, never my name. Never my soul.
I step forward, hand closing around her neck again. She doesn’t flinch.
“You know what this is.”
“Do I? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m just some convenient holes for you to stick your dick into. Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like to be with someone who actually sees me as more than that.”
My hand tightens, pressing until her heartbeat thrums against my fingertips because her words gut me.
“Is that what you think? That you’re just a fuck toy to me?”
She trembles, and for a fraction of a second, I think she’ll crumble. Instead, she snarls, “What else am I supposed to think? You treat me like a dirty secret.”
“You’re the only thing that fucking matters.” My voice drops to something dangerous. “And when you let another man’s hands on you, his mouth on yours, it made me want to burn the whole fucking world down.”
It’s the truth stripped bare. Kissing her as Damien was torture twisted with ecstasy. Feeling her melt against me, knowing I created that response, but powerless to claim it. Powerless to make it mine.
“Then maybe you should have thought of that before deciding I wasn’t worth anything more than anonymous sex. That I’m not worth your naked skin against mine. Or your weight on top of me. Or your lips on mine.”
I take a step back and drink in the sight of her. The hardness in her eyes has dissolved. The guilt has fled. What remains is pain. Open, honest and devastating. It hurts her that I won’t kiss her, let her touch me, or let her know me beyond the sex.
But that’s what I’m trying to do as Damien!
I grasp her hair and tug her head back, forcing her to look at me.
“Is that what you want from him? His weight on you? His cock sliding deep inside you? For him to kiss you like it’s the only thing he wants to do in the world?”
She tries to wrench her head free, but I won’t let go. “Is there something wrong with wanting that? Wanting connection? Tenderness? Is that a crime?”
“I told you from the start I’m not a gentle man.”
“You just want to fuck me against my will. Does that make you feel like a man? Is that what you need to get hard? Knowing the woman beneath you is forced to take you?”
“I don’t force you. I take nothing you aren’t willing to give me.”
Her body arches, answering me as her eyes confirm the truth of my words. I tug her head back a little farther. She flinches.
“Ow, you’re hurting me.”
“Good.” But I ease my grip to let her lift her head. “Because you fucking hurt me tonight, Luna. When you kissed him.”
She blinks, and her lips part in surprise.
“You want to know why I kissed him? Because he’s kind. And he looks at me like I’m more than a fuck.”
Kind. She thinks Damien is kind. If only she knew that kindness is just another mask I wear, another lie in a life built on deception. This is the man I am, and though she accepts me in the dark, would she accept me in the light?
I snap the strap of her nightgown against her skin. “Did you want him to fuck you? Is that why you’re wearing this little scrap of fabric that barely covers your pussy and puts your nipples on display, begging to be sucked?” I push her back onto the bed in one brutal motion.
I’m losing control. The precarious balance I’ve maintained for months is crumbling, and I can’t stop it.
“Maybe I was tired of settling for a man who won’t show me his face.”
Then let me show you.
The words are right there, desperate to escape. But I can’t.
I won’t risk losing her.
“I give you my body, but you don’t get to control my life. You don’t get to make demands when you keep yourself hidden from me.”
“I don’t have to give you my name to own you.”
The truth registers in her eyes, and her breath stutters. Her body recognizes its master, even if she doesn’t know his name.
“I won’t apologize for tonight. I’m not sorry I kissed someone who actually wants to kiss me back. Now, do you still want me?” Her voice sharpens, daring me to answer. “Or are you just here to threaten me and mark my body?”
I press one knee between her thighs and lean over her. The moonlight slants through the window, catching the curve of her throat. I trace a fingertip along the bruises there, my finger trembling at the memory of how I made them.
“I always want you.”
She looks at me, tears threatening to spill, but her gaze burns with defiant fire. “Then prove it.”
The air is heavy with her challenge, and I’m incapable of denying her as she lies beneath me—beautiful, tempting and mine.
Mine.
The claim echoes in my head as my fingers trace the lace over her breasts. I graze the stiff peaks of her nipples with my thumbs, and her body quakes beneath my touch.
“This little scrap of nothing. So fucking beautiful.” Need thickens my voice. “Did you put it on, thinking about him? What his hands would feel like on your skin?”
“No.” She arches into my touch, breathless. “I wore it for you. Hoping you’d tear it off me.”
Mission fucking accomplished.
I fist my hands in the delicate silk and tear it away from her body with one sharp pull. The sound of ripping fabric fills the air. She’s bare beneath me, responding to the violence with a gasp. Hunger and possession explode in my chest, savage and all-consuming.
Mine.
She’s naked, perfect, and shaking. I drop my head to her throat, lips blazing a path across her warm, pale skin. Her hands clench at her sides, proof she’s dying to touch me, but she holds herself back.
Her back curves upward, resistance melting into need.
I trail my fingers over every ridge and hollow.
My hands splay against her hips, gripping as I push her up the bed, caressing her skin, and relearning curves I’ve memorized in the dark.
She’s so soft, so perfect, and I’m desperate to mark her, to leave evidence of my claim on every inch of her body.
I lift my head and look down at her.
“You’re not a toy. Or a convenient fuck. You’re the only thing in this world that makes sense.”
It’s more honesty than I’ve ever given. The hardness in her eyes cracks and falls away. What’s left is wounded and desperate and hoping against hope. Tears gather on her eyelashes, catching the moonlight. I push up to my knees before she can speak.
“Now, let me show you what happens when you let another man touch you.”