Chapter Twenty-Two
Lily
I let out a breath and twist in Damiano’s arm to look up at him. “I need to get out of here, Dark.” I say, my voice edged with frustration. “I am slowly losing my mind being locked up. I need to go back to work.”
His expression darkens instantly. He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing. “You are not returning to work,” he says flatly. “It’s not safe. And you don’t need to work. I’ve got money to burn. Say what you want and it’s yours.”
I glare right back at him. “That’s not the point. I want to make my own money. I have bills to pay—”
“If you mean your student loans”—he cuts in—“they’re already taken care of.”
I freeze. My jaw goes slack.
“You…you paid my loans?”
He gives a single, unapologetic nod.
“But…” My voice pitches upward. “You can’t do that! Those were mine, my responsibility! I’ll pay you back—”
“No, you won’t,” he snaps. “I’m not a fucking bank, Lily. I’m your man. You don’t owe me for taking care of you.”
“But I didn’t ask you to—”
“I don’t fucking care.” His voice is steel now. “You’re mine, and I protect what is mine. That includes keeping you safe and making sure you don’t waste another second of your life worrying about money.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. My brain has shut down for a moment.
“I can’t sit here like some doll in a cage,” I manage, voice smaller now. “I need to get out, see people, breathe, have a life.”
He narrows his eyes, something dangerous glinting beneath the surface.
“Your life is here,” he grits out. “With me.”
I break free from his embrace and take a step back with a frustrated cry.
“What will happen when you tire of me? When you start a family and realize that having a mistress is not as much fun and giggles as you thought? What will I do? I can’t go back to Father’s place.
I have no work. I will have to start over from scratch. ”
He opens his mouth to reply but I cut him off. “If it happens in a day, in a week, that’s fine. But what if it happens in a year? In five years? My life is not here with you, but out there. I had a life before you came and took it from me.”
His jaw clenches so tight I can see the vein on his neck bulge. Wanting to appease him, I take a step forward and place my hands on his chest in a pleading gesture.
“Please, Dark, let me go,” I say softly.
He looks stricken. His heart thunders under my palm. He lifts his hands to cover mine and for a few seconds we stare at each other in silence, sharing more with our gazes than we ever could express with words.
Then his eyes cloud over with darkness and he pushes my hands away with a snarl. “Never. You are staying right here until I say otherwise, is that clear?”
“So what, I will be your mistress until you tire and discard me like a used toy?” My voice rises, tears starting to gather in my eyes.
“Exactly.” His voice is cold and final, and I let out a frustrated sob.
He curses softly and turns to leave in the direction of his home gym, his face a mask of cold fury.
On the threshold, he stops and says over his shoulder in a flat voice, “I left you something on the dining room table.”
Then he is gone.
I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and slowly head toward the dining room.
There on the table sits a smooth rectangular box.
When I get closer, I recognize the minimalistic white packaging of a smartphone.
My heart leaps in my throat. I take the sleek phone out of the box and power it up.
The screen lights up after a few seconds and I unlock it with a swipe of my thumb.
The phone number is written on a sticky note at the bottom of the box and when I scroll through my contacts, my sister’s and Erin’s numbers are already saved. As is a contact saved under “Dark”.
I pull up the email app and log into my email account, amazed that it works and I can read my emails. I send out two texts, one to Chiara and one to Erin, to let them know of my new phone number. Then I seek out Damiano to thank him.
He can’t possibly know that what he gave me is more than a simple phone. It is a small piece of freedom and a fragment of his trust. No matter how wrong this all feels, he still gave me something that mattered.
My heart hammers in my chest when I stand in front of the door to the gym.
I hear thuds and grunts and I push the door open.
Sure enough, Damiano is punching a boxing bag with his back to me, wearing only gym shorts.
His broad back is covered in ink, the motifs swirling with each ripple of the powerful muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin.
He is slick from sweat and suddenly I am having trouble breathing.
I am rooted to the spot, shamelessly ogling my captor.
I know that he is big, really big, but without his crisp shirts and suits, he looks rugged, his body built for power and domination.
I am mesmerized by his tattoos and find myself wanting to trace them with my fingertips.
His movements are fluid and controlled and they have me enthralled.
I must have made a noise because he stops and his face turns my way.
“I-I wanted to thank you. For the phone,” I stammer.
He doesn’t reply and strides to the far wall to retrieve a water bottle from which he gulps several mouthfuls. Then he picks up a towel and starts to wipe off the sweat from his face, neck and chest, his eyes on me the whole time.
I am still mesmerized, incapable of any coherent thought or movement as I watch him sling the towel around his neck and stalk toward me, his face emotionless.
“I-I better get going.” My voice sounds croaky.
Too late. He is on me and has me caged in with his arms resting against the door.
The scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat is tantalizing.
My throat is dry. His eyes are two black voids.
There is no trace of the ring of amber around his pupils.
He fists his hand into my hair and yanks my head back hard to look down into my face.
“Why don’t you thank me on your knees like the good little slut you are?” I flinch from his crude words and cold tone. Before I can break free, his mouth is on mine.
His presence overwhelms me, his tongue conquering my mouth, claiming my soul, and all I can do is surrender and submit to him.
My brain is scrambling to form coherent thoughts. Would it be so bad to be his whore? To not have to fight and just let go?
He presses his body against mine and I feel him hard against my belly.
His hand is still painfully tangled in my hair while he skims his other hand down my body to grip my buttocks, squeezing hard.
I let out a whimper. He now grips my ass with his two hands and lifts me up without breaking the kiss.
I wrap my legs around him for stability, dimly aware of him walking out of the gym.
When he puts me down, we are standing in front of the walk-in shower in the suite. I look up at him. His eyes are on me, pensive, indecipherable. Like he is trying to figure out what to do with me.
“Dark?” I ask him tentatively. I know running will be futile. My heart is hammering wildly in my chest and I’m lightheaded. He unbuttons my pants and undresses me with slow deliberate movements, not saying anything. Then he turns me around and I hear him lowering his shorts and boxers.
He steers us into the shower stall and turns on the water.
When he is satisfied with the temperature, he maneuvers us under the stream and grabs a sponge to wash both of us, my back plastered to his front.
He drags his hands over my heated skin to my breasts, caressing them and pinching the nipples until they are hard.
My breathing becomes ragged and I can feel his cock pressed against my lower back.
His touch becomes more forceful on my nipples and I cry out.
He glides his right hand down to my pussy and he starts stroking my clit with a mastery that has me panting.
He inserts a finger in my channel all the while massaging my clit with his palm and I have to grip his thighs behind me to steady myself.
My head is bent backward in ecstasy and I moan when I feel his teeth graze the side of my neck.
His harsh voice snaps me out of my daze. “Such a wanton slut, are you?”
In one movement he has me turned toward him, his hand gripping the back of my neck and his lips smashed against mine in a punishing kiss.
Once he leans back, his dark gaze bores into mine and he growls.
“Show me. Show me what a good girl you are.” He crowds me against the stall wall until there is no room to move back then he pushes my shoulders down.
I find myself on my knees before him, his cock inches from my mouth, caged in between the wall and his thighs.
My breath is ragged and I gulp. His cock is thick and long, fully erect, the veins bulging.
Dazed, I lick my lips.
He captures my jaw in his iron grip and I look up at him. His eyes are blazing with lust, their intensity consuming me. I look down at his cock again and I tentatively wrap my fingers around the base. Then I lick the tip and he groans like he is in pain.
“Goddamnit, sweetheart, you’re killing me.”
Empowered, I lick again, then I take him into my mouth, trying to get him as deep as I can. His breath comes out in a vicious hiss.
“Tap my thigh if you need me to move back.”
I look up and nod. His cock is like velvet under my tongue.
I suck and lap at him, feeling a blistering heat coil in my belly.
My head is bobbing up and down as I take him in deeper, choking on his size.
But still I want more, need more. I want all of him, I want him to unravel, to surrender his control to me.
I snake my left hand around him to dig my fingernails into his buttocks, pulling him even deeper in, and his incoherent groans are all I need as encouragement.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like this. Fuck, your mouth feels so good. I can’t… I won’t…”
He grabs the sides of my head and he starts thrusting deep into my throat.
My first instinct is to recoil, my gag reflex kicking in.
But I try to relax my throat, breathing in and out with the punishing rhythm he sets.
I suck harder, wrapping my tongue around him while he pounds into my mouth until my eyes water.
His raspy voice fills the shower stall. “Fuuck, you’re gonna make me…
” He pushes deep and roars as his hot cum shoots down my throat. I swallow every last drop.
His breath is coming out in ragged puffs when I look up at him. His eyes are frenzied, his pupils blown. He catches my face with his hand and we stay with our eyes locked for eons.
Then, with a growl, he hauls me up and kisses me like his life depends on it.