Chapter Four
Damien
My house has never felt smaller.
I lead her upstairs, stopping in front of the spare bedroom across from mine. “You can settle in here,” I tell her, pushing the door open. “Bathroom’s through there. If you need anything, anything at all, you tell me.”
“I’m fine. Thank you,” she says in a quiet voice, shaking her head.
But then she hesitates, her eyes dropping for a second before coming back up, the faintest pink brushing across her cheeks.
“Actually…I, um…don’t have anything to change into.
I was wondering if…” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her lashes lowering like she can’t quite meet my gaze.
“If maybe I could…wear one of your shirts?”
Christ.
The request is innocent, but the way her soft blush spreads down her neck, the way her teeth catch her bottom lip, the way she looks so damn small and sweet in my space…it’s anything but.
I hold her gaze for a moment longer than I should. “Yeah,” I say finally, my voice lower than I intend. “I’ll get you one.”
I turn away before I do something I’ll regret and head to my room, grabbing a black button-up from my closet. When I hand it to her, her fingers brush mine. The touch is as light as a feather, unintentional but enough to make my pulse spike.
She smiles, shy and unsure, and it feels like she’s just handed me a live wire.
I leave before I forget why I’m supposed to be keeping my distance.
Downstairs, I go straight to the bar. My hand closes around the neck of a bottle of whiskey, and I pour a generous glass. I need something strong, something to keep me in check.
Lena Clarke is in my home.
I tell myself it’s for her safety. That the card, the threat…this is about protecting her. But the truth is, safety is the last thing on my mind.
All evening, I’ve been holding a leash on my desire. Now she’s here, within reach, and the leash is fraying. Her wide, green eyes. That graceful body built for the stage. The way she looked at me when I told her to come with me…like I was the only safe place she had left.
It’s hard to stay sane.
Still, I fight it. She’s had a rough night. A rough few weeks. She doesn’t need a man like me complicating her life.
I take another drink, willing myself to remember that.
And then I hear her soft footsteps.
When I look up, she’s standing in the doorway, barefoot, drowning in my black shirt. Her hair is down now, tumbling over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that makes her eyes look impossibly large. The hem of the shirt brushes her thighs, leaving miles of bare skin on display.
My control shatters.
I set the glass down hard enough that it rattles against the bar, and I close the distance between us in three long strides. Before she can take a breath, I’ve got my hands on her waist, and I’m hauling her flush against me.
She gasps, her fingers curling instinctively into the fabric of my shirt. That tiny sound shoots straight through me.
I lower my mouth to hers without hesitation.
The first brush of her lips is soft, too soft—so I take more. I slide my hand down her back, anchoring her against me as I deepen the kiss. She tastes like something I’ve craved my entire life without knowing it, sweet and warm, her mouth opening under mine with the slightest coaxing.
Her knees press into me as if she needs the contact to stay upright, and I answer by dragging her closer, letting her feel exactly how much I want her.
She lets out a soft, breathless whimper that nearly undoes me. I swallow it greedily, my tongue tangling with hers, staking my claim in a way that leaves no room for doubt.
When I finally pull back, it’s only because I need air, not because I want to stop.
Her lips are swollen and pink, her breathing uneven. Wide, glassy green eyes stare up at me, pupils blown, innocence and heat warring in their depths. A strand of hair has fallen across her cheek, and I resist the urge to tuck it away just so I can touch her again.
She looks like she has no idea what just hit her.
And I know I’m not done hitting her with it.
She stares up at me, cheeks flushed, lips still parted from the kiss. “What…was that about?”
I don’t hesitate. “That was me claiming you,” I tell her, my voice low, steady. “You’re mine, firefly.”
Her eyes go wide, a soft gasp catching in her throat. “How…? I never thought…you liked me.”
“I don’t only like you,” I correct. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
She blinks at me in disbelief. “I…I like you too!” she blurts. Her eyes go even wider at her own words, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, cheeks flaming.
It makes me smile. A real smile.
I step in, closing the small distance between us, and curl my fingers around her wrist to gently pull her hand away from her mouth. “You like me too, hmm?” I tease, letting my gaze sweep over her face. “You know what that does to me, hearing you say that?”
She squirms under my stare, shifting her weight from foot to foot, as if my attention is too heavy for her to bear. “Stop looking at me like that,” she murmurs, eyes darting away.
“Like what?” I tilt my head, deliberately making it worse. “Like I’m thinking about everything I’m going to do to you?”
Her blush deepens, and she bites her lip. I decide right then that I’m going to make a habit of pulling that reaction from her.
“How long, firefly?” I ask. “How long have you liked me?”
Her gaze drops to the floor. “Since…the first time I saw you. On my Inauguration Day at the Academy.” She glances up shyly. “You shook my hand…and congratulated me on my scholarship. But you probably don’t even remember.”
Oh, I remember.
I reach up, brushing my knuckles along her jaw. “I remember everything about that day. You were in that pale pink leotard…hair pulled into a perfect bun, eyes so bright they stopped me in my tracks. I stood there, watching you, and thought, God help me—I want her.”
Her breath hitches visibly.
I cup her face with my hand. “I’ve wanted you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you.”
And then I take her mouth again.
This time, there’s no hesitation. My hand slides into her hair, holding her right where I want her as I kiss her slow and deep, savoring every soft, yielding inch of her lips. She melts into me with a quiet, helpless sound that makes me want to never let go.
I nip her lower lip and she lets out a soft little gasp that immediately turns into a whimper when I take the opening to slide my tongue against hers, tasting her. She’s warm and sweet and trembling in my arms, but she doesn’t pull away.
I grip her hip with one hand, the other sliding up her spine to tangle in her hair and press her body even closer to mine. I angle her head the way I want it and take more, pushing the kiss deeper, hungrier. She’s melting, clinging, letting me lead.
When I press her back against the wall, her breath catches again. I swallow it, my chest crushing hers, my thigh slipping between her legs. She lets out the softest sound, and I feel the heat of her even through the barrier of my pants.
She arches into me, driving me crazier with her soft, breathy moans. I slide a hand under her shirt, my shirt, moaning deeply at the feel of her soft skin and the sudden realization that she’s naked underneath, except for a pair of panties. All bared to me.
“Fucking hell, baby,” I growl, sliding my palm up her stomach. “You sure know how to drive a man crazy.”
I cup her left breast in my hand, my thumb circling the hardened nipple through the thin fabric. She shivers under my touch, her breath coming in uneven bursts.
“This needs to go,” I mutter, tugging at the hem of the shirt.
She nods eagerly, and the corner of my mouth lifts in a dark chuckle. “Eager, my firefly?”
That blush I’m growing addicted to floods her cheeks as she lifts her arms for me. I take my time, peeling the shirt up and over her head, letting the fabric slide over her soft skin before I toss it aside.
Then I stop.
And I just look at her.
She’s standing there in nothing but a pair of pale pink panties, her chest rising and falling fast. Her skin is smooth and warm, glowing in the low light.
Her breasts are perfect, full and high, tipped with dusky pink nipples that are already pebbled from my touch.
I drag my gaze lower, over the subtle dip of her waist, the gentle flare of her hips, the long dancer’s legs I’ve watched move across the stage with flawless grace.
Every inch of her is delicate and feminine, made to be touched, tasted, claimed.
“Christ,” I breathe, my voice low and rough. “You’re perfect.”
Her eyes drop, embarrassed, but I hook a finger under her chin and make her meet my gaze. “Don’t hide from me. Not when you’re mine to look at.”
Taking both of her hands in mine, I lift them above her head, pinning them to the wall. Her breath hitches, her body arching instinctively into mine as I press closer, caging her in completely.
“Don’t move,” I murmur, my voice rough with restraint.
Her lips part, and a small, shaky nod is the only answer she gives.
I lower my head, my mouth hovering over the perfect swell of her breast. The scent of her skin fills my lungs…soft, warm, addictive. My tongue flicks out, tracing the tight peak before I close my lips around it, sucking slowly.
She gasps, her hips pressing forward, trapped against the hard line of my thigh. I can feel the tremor that runs through her, the way her body reacts to every pull of my mouth, every scrape of my teeth.
My cock twitches, impatient, but I ignore it, switching to the other breast. I give it the same attention, letting my free hand slide down to grip Lena’s hip, holding her still as I feast on her.
“Damien…” she whispers shakily.
I raise my eyes to hers, slowly sliding a hand up her chest until my fingers wrap around her neck. I squeeze gently, brushing my lips against her ear. “Daddy,” I correct her.
“W-what?”
“Call me Daddy.”
“D-daddy,” she stammers out, her voice soft.
I hum against her skin, sliding my free hand between us to push her panties aside. A growl escapes my throat when I realize how wet she is. “Say it again,” I demand.
“Daddy.”
I run the pad of my thumb over her clit, then slide a finger into her. “Louder.”
“Daddy!” she moans, and I growl in satisfaction.
Fuck, she’s tight.
I let out a low curse, removing my finger from inside her and crushing my mouth to hers again. I kiss her harder now, my hand sliding down to cup the curve of her ass. I smack her hard with both palms, and she gasps, pressing herself eagerly into me as I grind my erection against her pelvis.
The urge to possess her is maddening, and it’s taking everything inside of me not to tear her panties off and plunge into her.
Patience, Blackwell. You have all the time in the world.
Now that she’s finally mine, I’ll be sure to do things the right way. First, I’ll give her more pleasure that she ever thought possible. Then I’ll take what’s mine.
“You’re so wet,” I murmur, sliding my finger back into her tight heat.
When I try to add a second finger, she gasps, letting out a small whimper. I freeze, slowly withdrawing my hand as I raise my head to look at her. Behind the dilated pleasure in her eyes is an ill-masked pain.
“Lena?”
“I’m sorry, I…” Her lips quiver slightly.
“You’re a virgin.”
It’s not a question. The building guilt in her eyes is all the confirmation I need.