Chapter 21 Ellie
Ellie
“Holy shit, you scared–” I don’t even have time to finish my sentence before his mouth covers mine. He bites my lip hard enough to make me yip and then sucks on it. It’s soothing and sexy, and the pain I feel turns into passion within moments.
“You have a lot of nerve,” he growls down at me.
“What do you mean?” I ask as he continues to kiss my jawline down to my neck.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” he tells me, and I smirk, my nipples growing hard against the black lace bra I have on. Its delicate lace definitely shows my arousal.
“You want me?” I dare to ask, and Damien jerks back.
“You have been a very, very bad girl,” he says, and I can’t figure out if this is a game or not. Either way, I am so hot right now that I am already wet.
“How bad?” I ask as Damien proceeds to spread kisses up my neck until he reaches my jawline, and I shriek.
“That tickles,” I tell him, but he doesn’t stop, and I wiggle against him in protest. “Damien,” I plead, pressing on his chest. He yanks back, his hand fisting my hair on the back of my head.
“Did I tell you to call me by my name?” he barks, and passion and fear jolt through me.
“I–”
“Answer the question,” he commands. I feel myself getting wetter. Who knew I liked having my hair pulled? Who knew I liked any of this? It’s like there’s a wild animal living inside of me I didn’t even know was in hibernation. And now it’s awake; scaring and exciting me at the same time.
“No, sir,” I answer with a slow nod.
I expect a good girl, but he doesn’t reward me with that. Not yet. “You’ve been a little rebellious recently. I don’t like it when my rules are not followed.”
I can’t tell if this is a game or not. But if I had to guess, it is. It’s obvious we are both frustrated. It’s been a hot minute since we fulfilled the benefits clause, and I think we are overdue for a night shift. Rachel isn’t going to be happy about it, but I can think up an excuse.
“I will follow all the rules tonight.” I say.
But Damien doesn’t acknowledge what I’ve said. Instead, he tucks his thumbs inside my shirt, teasing my nipples for all of two glorious seconds before ripping the shirt clean off. The pearl buttons scattered all over the marble flooring of my office.
I gasp so loud it almost sounds like a scream, and a second wave of excitement pulses through me. His eyes rake over me ravenously. Then he grabs my skirt at the bottom hem right next to the four-inch slit.
“There’s a zipper in the back,” I tell him. But Damien doesn’t care about zippers, and starting at the slit, he rips the skirt until it falls off my body and onto the floor.
I stare up at him, with want and need in my eyes, because I am more turned on than I’ve ever been before.
If I didn’t know any better, we are going to go all the way in the Velvet Lounge tonight, and I don’t even care.
With pregame this good, he could ask me for anything tonight and I’d do it.
Jocelyn is right. I am different from the girls before me. I am his, and I want him to have me.
I moan and arch my back as Damien tears my panties off me. He unclasps the bra and tosses it aside as though the fabric between him and me is an annoying inconvenience. Then he picks me up and carries me over to the windows.
“People can see.” I state the obvious. We are too high off the ground for people below to see us, but people in the neighboring hotels, specifically at the rooftop restaurants, absolutely can.
“And?” he barks.
“It’s daylight.” I say. And this isn’t a gentlemen’s club. It’s the real world, and there’s real, fully clothed people with front row seats.
“It is,” he says, spinning me around and pinning me against the window. I don’t know what terrifies me more, the fact that anyone across the way can see me or that we are hundreds of feet from the ground. I don’t like heights, even if there is a thick glass window between me and the fall.
“But people can see us,” I say. What I really should have said is that people can see me.
“They can. They can see that you are in my hotel. They can see that you are in my hands. They can see that you belong to me. Right now, they are going to watch you come for me.”
Before I can protest, Damien’s hands wander down my body to my pussy.
With one hand he teases my clit, knowing exactly where it is and what it needs to make me moan and squirm.
With his other hand, he shoves not one but two fingers inside me.
It’s nowhere near the girth of his actual cock, but my fucking god it’s a lot at this angle.
My blood is rushing through my veins so fast it’s making me dizzy, and I find myself needing to press my hands against the glass to steady myself.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, but I know better than to believe it’s an option.
“No,” I tell him, which is the truth.
“Why not,” he says as his fingers jut in and out of me, making me wetter and wetter with each thrust.
“Because you’re good at it,” I tell him.
“Good at what?” he snaps.
“At making me come,” I say in a breathy whisper. At the high-rise across from us, I can see people on the rooftop enjoying their expensive brunches and mimosas. Now, they are enjoying the show too.
“And why is that?” he asks.
“Because I’m yours,” I whimper as the orgasm nears the possibility of being mine.
“Louder!” Damien growls.
“I belong to you!” I shout just before the wave hits me. He yanks his fingers out of my pussy and shoves them into my mouth, forcing me to suck my own tangy desire off his fingers.
“That’s right. Recently, you seem to have forgotten just what that means,” he says as his other hand teases my nipples. My body becomes soft under his weight, but pressed against the glass, I can’t do anything about it.
“I know what it means,” I try to tell him, but it’s too little too late.
Clearly, my little rebellious attitude isn’t going to be tolerated any longer.
He is either going to make me come so many times that I can’t see straight or edge me until I pass out.
Either way, I’m in trouble. And either way, I truly do belong to him… right now.
“Now,” he says, and his hand stops teasing. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. “What are we going to do with you?” he asks.
“Anything you want,” I answer. I have given up trying to make myself smaller in the window. If people are going to watch, they’re going to watch.
“Anything I want,” he parrots, his hands gripping me tightly enough that I am sure I am going to have handprints on my fair skin for days. Handprints that remind me just how powerful he is. Just how serious this job is and every single thing it entails.
“What do you want?” I ask finally giving up. “What do you want to do with me?”
“Was that the sound of submission?” he asks, his hot breath playing games against the shell of my ear.
His lips travel lower again, and I worry he’s going to torture the crook in my neck by my collarbone.
It’s a contradictory feeling of tickling and tantalizing, and I can’t decide if I love it or hate it.
In the end, he bypasses the teasing and goes straight for the taking. Damien grabs me by the hips and pulls me back. “Bend forward,” he commands.
I look back at him, watching as he unbuckles his belt and pulls himself loose from his slacks.
His cock is bigger in the daylight; girthy, veiny, and throbbing with anticipation.
It makes me a little nervous. But now…now it looks merciless, and I find my brain swirling in yet another contradictory cocktail of feelings.
I want it. It scares me. I need it. It will destroy me. I have to have it. It will end me.
In the same moment, my eye catches something else.
“Damien,” I say, and immediately, I correct myself. “Mr. Graves. Sir. The door…”
“What about it?” he grits out, holding me in place with one hand and stroking his cock with the other.
“It’s open. It’s…it’s wide open,” I manage to say. I am standing at a perfectly perpendicular angle. My hands are on the glass, my legs are straight, and my ass is in position.
“That’s funny,” he says with the smallest hint of a smile. “Because so are you.”
I cry out as his cock thrusts inside of me, hard, hot, and filling. There isn’t an inch of my inner being that isn’t consumed by the volume of his dick.
“Oh my god,” I let out, and my hands start to slide down the glass.
“Do you need help, baby girl?” he says, placing a hand under my chest, his fingers teasing my nipples again. “Do you need me?”
“I need you to make me come,” I whimper.
“So impatient,” he says, softly sliding in and out of me, one burning centimeter at a time. “For a girl who has been very bad recently, I find it wildly entertaining that you can continue to be so demanding.”
My vision blurs from the multiple sensations racing through every nerve in my body.
He is so thick and hard and long; so full inside of me, and I am aching to come.
Aching to be one with him, crying out in pleasure and hearing him cry out too.
I want to feel him pulsating inside me, and I know with every thrust it is bringing us nearer and nearer to the edge.
I want this orgasm to break him the way it’s going to break me.
“Damien…” I dare to say the name. My tone is soft and low; submissive and begging. “Damien please. Make me come. I need you to come inside me. Fill me up. Fill me with you…I need it.”
Damien groans at my words, and his hips respond by thrusting in and out of me. Regardless of our fight for control, my stubbornness and his need to dominate me, our roles are overtaken by primal instinct. He wants to fuck me into another dimension, and I want to let him.
“Fuck!” I let out, knowing full well that everyone can hear me inside the building. Hell, I’d just about put money on it that everyone outside of the building can hear me too. And right now, I genuinely don’t give a fuck. I just want to be fucked.
“Take it,” he grits out as his hips slam harder and harder into me.
“I am,” I whine, my vision growing whiter around the edges with every thrust.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You feel so good,” he says, and the words are enough to send an explosion of elation through my body. I’m not used to praise, so I have to catch it in my memory and tuck it away any time it happens. “You’re so wet for me.”
“I am,” I tell him. “Only for you.”
“Yes,” he says, and I can feel the build-up as he drives harder and harder, and faster and faster into me until every cell in my body is racing towards ecstasy and the end of my composure until finally, achingly, we both cry out.
“Fuck!” he lets out, and I realize he wants to be heard.
This is his world. His domain. His castle.
He is the king and the beast, and he wants everyone to know it.
Something about that makes this orgasm all the more powerful.
He’s making it known that I am his and we cannot be separated. Contract or no contract.
Afterwards, he tucks himself back into his slacks as if nothing ever happened.
Other than the sweat glimmering on his temples, he doesn’t look like he exerted himself at all.
Me, on the other hand, I am a hot mess on the floor, and he walks over to the closet, grabs a satin robe that I was unaware was even in there, and tosses it at me.
“Clean yourself up,” he tells me, making his way to the door.
I scramble to my feet and pull the robe on.
“Anything you want me to wear tonight?” I ask as I tie it off.
“You can wear whatever you want when you’re not on the clock,” he says, and I blink.
“Aren’t we going out tonight?” I ask.
He stops and glances back at me, only momentarily. “No,” he answers before walking out the door and closing it behind him.
What the fuck just happened?