Chapter 66 – Poisonous Solace (Damian’s POV)

Chapter 66 – Poisonous Solace (Damian’s POV)
Day one… Day two… Time was passing fast and I had barely set my eyes on her.
I sat in my dark study nursing a bourbon, hoping the liquor would burn away the hollow ache in my gut. It had been two days since Ivy shut me out completely—two days of her avoiding my eyes, and two days of me spiralling back into darkness, wrestling the urge to fall back into the ruthless being I used to be because eventually, she’d be the victim anyway.
Most of the pack was asleep obviously. I should've been too, but I couldn’t face my empty bed again. So I camped up here, drowning in whiskey. It was in-between one of those meditative moments that a soft knock at the study door broke the silence. I stiffened. “Yes?” My voice came out rough.
Bianca slipped inside before I could deny her entry. She shut the door with a deliberate click. In the low lamplight, I saw she wore a midnight-blue silk nightgown with thin straps. The damn thing was practically transparent, clinging to her curves and leaving little to the imagination.
I tore my gaze away to my drink. “It’s late,” I muttered. “What do you want, Bianca?” I mean, her presence here was everything wrong!
She approached slowly. “I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured. “I heard you in here... And let’s not kid ourselves, you’re hurting, Damian.”
I tossed back the rest of my bourbon in one gulp. The alcohol barely warmed me. “Don’t,” I warned lowly. I didn’t want her sympathy. Hell, I didn’t want anything from her.
But Bianca persisted, rounding the desk to stand beside my armchair. “You’re tense,” she said softly, daring to brush my shoulder. “Let me help you.”
I jerked away from her touch, a snarl curling my lip. “Help me?” I scoffed. “Fuck you, Bianca. You’re useless to me, Bianca.”
She flinched, but instead of retreating she sank down onto her knees before me. Bianca placed her hands on my thighs, gazing up through dark lashes. “I’m not trying to replace her,” she purred, sliding her palms higher toward the bulge in my slacks. “But I can take your pain away for a while. You need an outlet… let me be that.”
My mind screamed to push her off, but her hands kneaded my thighs and my traitorous body responded. I was touch-starved and angry and maybe that’s why I didn’t stop her when she reached for my belt.
Then for the weirdest reason, I simply figured it wouldn’t be so bad to fuck her mouth though. Ivy had made her own choices so how could a little fun hurt. I waited as Bianca deftly unfastened my belt and fly. She looked up at me with a gleam of triumph as she freed my half-hard cock from my slacks.
“It’s okay,” she cooed. “You don’t have to pretend with me. We both need this, don’t we?”
A caustic reply died on my tongue as she leaned in and wrapped her lips around the head of my cock without warning. A groan burst out of me, equal parts pleasure and self-disgust.
I let my head fall back against the chair with my eyes shut. The alcohol, loneliness, and anger were merging into a tidal wave, and I was so fucking tired of fighting it.
“Just this once,” I growled under my breath. My hands found Bianca’s dark hair, guiding her as she bobbed hungrily between my legs. Wet suckling sounds filled the study. It was desperate and wrong, but a deep moan still tore from my chest as I thrust into her mouth.
Bianca hummed, nails scratching at my thighs as she worked faster, spit glistening on my cock. I clenched my jaw and tried to blank my mind, but Ivy kept intruding—unbidden comparisons that made my chest ache. Ivy’s mouth was softer; Ivy’s eyes would have gazed up at me with genuine warmth, not calculated intent.
A snarl ripped from my throat. I fisted Bianca’s hair and yanked her head back. She released me with a wet gasp, surprise lighting her face.
“Up,” I ordered, voice rough.
She obeyed, rising to her feet. I lurched to my feet and spun her around, bending her over my desk. Papers scattered as I pressed her chest to the polished wood.
Bianca let out a throaty little laugh, arching her back.
I yanked up her flimsy nightgown, baring her ass—no panties, of course. She was already wet; the scheming bitch had come here expecting this.
Anger flared hot in my veins. I lined up and drove into her with one harsh thrust, burying to the hilt. Bianca cried out, clawing at the desk. I barely gave her a second to adjust before pulling back and slamming into her again, setting a brutal pace.
This wasn’t love or even proper fucking—it was pure self-destruction. I pistoned into her, each wet slap punctuated by her exaggerated moans. She was so loud, performing as if it would snare my heart. It only made me thrust harder, chasing oblivion and trying to drown the hurt.
“Damian, yes—mmm—just like that,” Bianca keened, cheek pressed to the desk, eyes shut in ecstasy. She probably thought she’d finally won. The joke was on her; there wasn’t a shred of affection in this. I wasn’t hers and never would be.
Sweat dripped down my temple as I slammed into her. Heat coiled in my belly. I was close.
Her inner walls fluttered around me. She came with a cry of my name that grated in my ears. I drove into her one last time, burying deep as I came with a ragged snarl.
I paused only a moment, panting, before reality crashed back in. The high faded fast, leaving only disgust. My spent cock slipped free as I staggered back.
Bianca whimpered at the loss, then straightened, smoothing her dress with a smug little smile. “Feeling better?” she purred.
I stared at her, chest heaving, loathing churning inside me. Without a word, I tucked myself away and zipped up with shaking hands.
“Damian—” She stepped toward me, hand out as if to touch my face.
I recoiled, shooting her a glare so venomous she halted. “Don’t. Touch. Me,” I ground out, each word icy.
Her smile faltered. “But—I thought—”
“This changes nothing,” I bit off. My voice trembled with barely controlled revulsion. “You understand me? Nothing.”
Bianca’s eyes flashed with hurt, quickly masked by anger. “You didn’t seem to think it was ‘nothing’ five minutes ago,” she spat, lifting her chin.
I barked a bitter laugh. “Don’t kid yourself. You offered, I took. End of story.” My heart thumped dully, self-hatred twisting inside me.
She started to speak, but I didn’t wait. I marched to the door and yanked it open. “Get out,” I snarled.
Bianca hesitated, her cheeks flushing red; anger or embarrassment, I didn’t care. At last she swept past me, then dashed outside with a whiff of anger. I just squeezed my eyes shut, a tremor running through me.
“What have I done?”