Chapter 14 Daisy #2
I felt his tongue, his hunger, his absolute control.
I felt my very core betraying me. You don’t want this, my mind cried.
Not like this. But my heart screamed louder: you need him.
I pressed my face deeper into the pillow so I wouldn’t break—not in front of him, not in front of myself.
I fought with everything I was. And I lost. And I came.
I came into his hunger, into his obsession, into his darkness.
“It drives me insane to see you come because of me.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “I want to feel you inside me, Damian.” I needed him—now.
He straightened slowly, gripped my hips, and rolled me onto my back. His gaze was cold. Unyielding. “Stand up,” he ordered.
I obeyed. My legs trembled, my breath came ragged, but he held me fast—gave me no choice, no escape.
“And now,” he said quietly, “get on your knees.”
I obeyed, lowering myself slowly.
Then he gripped me by the hair and tilted my face up so I had to look at him. “You want me?” he murmured. “Then prove it.”
I hesitated, but the cold expression in his eyes left no doubt.
“Say you need me. That you can’t live without me. Beg to belong to me. And beg to be fucked by me.”
The words burned in the air—inescapable, demanding. His grip stayed firm as he studied me, savoring every twitch, every tremor. My throat tightened. The words fought to come, but shame and pride held them back. The silence thickened, suffocating. His grip on me tightened. His eyes were merciless.
“Go on,” he murmured. “Say it.”
Why did he need to hear it? Why demand that I say it?
Because it wasn’t enough for him that I wanted him.
He had to know. He had to hear it—from my mouth, against my shame, against my fear, against whatever scraps of pride I still clung to.
He wanted me to confess—not to him, but to myself, beneath him.
To admit what I truly felt. That I wanted him exactly as he was.
Not in spite of his darkness, but because of it.
I hated myself for it. And I loved him for it. How could one person be both the storm and the refuge?
Maybe he needed proof I wasn’t just a victim but a willing accomplice. That I knew exactly what I was surrendering to.
Maybe it was control.
Or fear. Or both.
But more than anything… it was possession. He wanted to hear that I wanted it too—not because he doubted, but because it was the last thing he still held when everything else threatened to slip away.
And me? I said it. Because it was true. And because I wanted him to be right. About me. About what I needed. About the darkness inside me that had stayed silent for so long—until him.
“I… I need you. I belong only to you,” I finally breathed, the words barely audible. But he held me, waiting for more—his eyes hungry, impatient.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to…” My gaze faltered, and he tilted my chin back up.
“What, Daisy…”
“I want you to take me.”
“Good.” His thumb grazed my lips as if sealing the promise inside them. “I’d tear apart anyone who dared come between us.”
He freed his cock, hard in his hand, veins taut beneath his grip. “Do you like it when I jerk off on your face?”
Heat flared across my skin, my whole body burning. Of course I liked what he did. I liked everything about him. But the words stuck in my throat.
“And now look me in the eyes while I fuck your mouth. You don’t look away, do you understand?” His hand clamped my jaw so my gaze couldn’t slip. “Do you understand?” he pressed, strict and unyielding.
“Yes,” I whispered. My throat was tight, my pulse crashing against my ribs. Then he was inside me. Deep. Hot. Unforgiving. His hips drove forward in a rhythm that was fierce, possessive, claiming, while my breath came in broken gasps.
He held my head firm, fucking my mouth with ravenous hunger until I was gagging, saliva spilling down my chin.
My chest burned, my throat ached, and still my body betrayed me—heat pooling between my thighs, breaking every boundary I thought I had.
His grip in my hair was unforgiving, his eyes merciless as they locked on mine.
Tears burned in my eyes—not from pain, but from unraveling under the way he took me, the way he looked at me, the way he made me dissolve until I wasn’t myself anymore.
My legs shook, trembling with restrained tension.
And that contradiction ripped me open more than his grip ever could.
Then he pulled out, letting my head fall, only to drag me up again without a word.
I stumbled into his hands, let him turn me, press me face-down against the mattress.
His grip on my hips was a command. And then he was inside me again—a brutal, primal thrust—hard, merciless.
My forehead pressed into the blanket as I clawed at it, his body over mine a storm breaking me open.
Each thrust tore my mind further apart. I was nothing but sensation.
Nothing but this addiction. Addicted to the way he degraded me and at the same time exalted me, set me ablaze.
I had never felt more alive, never experienced sex this devastating.
I felt his breath quicken, his muscles strain, his entire being driving toward one single purpose—to own me.
Completely. He came inside me, hot, pulsing, and with every release something inside me shattered—pride, resistance, reality.
And then I came—not like a wave, but like a collapse.
My body shook violently, tightening as if I would break beneath him.
Slowly, breath ragged, he pulled out and turned me onto my back.
His eyes were hollow, emptied—as if he’d poured everything he was into me.
Damian handed me a glass of water from the nightstand.
I drank, my throat raw, my chest aching—not just from exhaustion, but from him.
He drank next, then set the glass aside and pulled me close, as if to anchor the moment.
He pulled the blanket over us. And though our bodies touched, I felt an entire world stretching between us. A dark one. A dangerous one.
His brother’s house in the Catskill Mountains was a thing of quiet beauty, tucked into thick forest with a breathtaking view of the peaks.
The vastness of the landscape made me exhale.
We had left Greenwood after lunch and now stood in the heart of the Catskills, facing a house that looked like it had been pulled straight from a dream.
Damian eased the car to a stop on the gravel drive, and my eyes caught on the veranda.
A man stood there, tall, broad-shouldered, sun-browned. His posture carried a strange mix of vigilance and warmth. Beside him stood a slender woman, pale hair spilling loose around her shoulders with effortless elegance. Damian got out, circled the car, and opened my door.
Before I could step down, the man came forward, smile broadening. He wrapped Damian in a firm, brotherly hug. I took the moment to climb out, moving aside, hand extended.
“Daisy, this is Christopher, my older brother, and this is Elis, his wife.”
I gave a reserved smile as I stepped forward to shake their hands.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the one keeping our parents’ shop alive.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to meet you both as well.”
“From what Damian’s told me, you’re doing a wonderful job.”
Damian slipped his arm around me. “She is. And Daisy isn’t just my employee, she’s my girlfriend.”
Had I heard him right? My head snapped toward him. Girlfriend. He had introduced me to his family as his girlfriend. Christopher and Elis traded a quick, knowing look before Christopher grinned.
“Come, let me show you the house. How was the drive?” he asked, opening the door wide.
“Traffic was fine,” Damian replied.
“And you’re really only staying one night?” Elis asked.
“I have to be back in the office Monday morning,” Damian explained. “Is the meeting with Caldwell still on for tonight?”
“He’ll be here for dinner,” Christopher replied.
“What meeting?”
“This evening we’re hosting a business dinner,” Christopher explained to me.
“That’s why I need to talk to you,” Damian said to his brother.
“Then let’s go straight to my office. Elis can show Daisy around the property.”
Damian’s sister-in-law led me through the impressive house, our footsteps echoing softly across the polished floors. High ceilings and wide picture windows framed the surrounding mountains, sunlight pouring in to fill every corner. We entered a spacious room anchored by a massive stone fireplace.
“This is the living room,” Elis said.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Come, I’ll show you the kitchen. The staff is already preparing dinner.”
The air was rich with the scent of fresh herbs and roasted meat. The housekeepers greeted me with warm smiles.
“Now, the dining room,” she said, opening an adjoining door. A long oak table stretched the length of the elegant space, silverware already gleaming beneath the soft glow of a chandelier.
“Do you enjoy reading, Daisy?” Elis asked, glancing at me curiously.
“Very much.”
“Then you’ll like this.” She opened a tall door to reveal a library. “My favorite room in the whole house.”
I stepped inside, delighted. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were heavy with books. A plush chair and a wide couch stood near a small table and antique reading lamp. A Persian rug covered the polished wooden floor, making the room feel warm and intimate.
“What do you like to read?” I asked, running my hand along the spine of a book.
Elis smiled and shrugged. “A bit of everything: philosophy, history, novels. I love slipping into other worlds, seeing life through different eyes.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
We left the library and continued down the hall.
“How do you like working in Damian’s shop?”
“Sometimes it’s demanding, but I love it.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I can imagine. Damian never gives up control, he has to manage everything. That can be intimidating, can’t it?”
I hesitated. “I think I’ve gotten used to it.”