Chapter 134 134
Aurélie POV
“You’ve been ignoring me?”
His lips shape every syllable with deliberate precision, each word weighted with meaning.
“You’ve been busy with other she-wolves…”
“Who?” His fingers slip beneath my chin, tilting my face upward until I’m forced to meet his gaze.
“Clémence?”
Amusement flickers across his expression until he realizes I’m not joking.
“Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I challenge. “She’s very attractive.”
“Clémence?” He exhales a short laugh. “Sure if I wanted a quick fuck in the corner of a club… but”
“But?” I press.
“But I don’t want that.”
“Then what do you want, Damien?”
His answer is immediate. Unflinching.
“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”
The backs of my legs collide with the bed frame, and only then do I realize he’s somehow moved us from the wardrobe to the bed without my conscious awareness. I hadn’t even felt it happen.
“I… I don’t think I’m ready yet,” I admit quietly.
It’s ridiculous we have two children together. I’ve already been with him. But last time had ended in distance, in rejection that came quietly but cut deeply. I don’t know if I can survive that again.
“Relax, Aurélie,” he says softly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” A familiar cocky edge slips into his tone. “But how about I give you a little taste of what I’m offering?”
That confidence infuriating and infallible is dangerously attractive.
We’re both alphas, leaders of alliances. Outside this room, we’d clash endlessly. But here… here I’d let him take control.
My breathing falters. My skin hums, alive and desperate beneath his gaze. Heat coils low in my core, sharp and insistent.
“Damien…” I laugh, a weak attempt at defense but he sees straight through it. Straight through me.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”
His fingers brush my ear, gently tucking stray strands of hair away before drifting down to rest at my collarbone. The touch is reverent and devastating.
“A taste?” I scoff weakly. “We have children together.”
I roll my eyes, and instead of deterring him, it only fuels something darker and more intense in his gaze.
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, the arm still wrapped around my lower back tightens. His fingers slip beneath my waistband, tugging gently before sliding inside hooking the back of my thong and pulling it down just enough to expose me.
A moan escapes me before I can stop it.
His other hand fists in my hair, dragging my mouth to his as he crashes his lips against mine. He uses my startled gasp to thrust his tongue into my mouth, kissing me like he needs me to breathe. Each kiss grows deeper, rougher possessive. Erotic. As though he’s branding me with every press of his mouth.
Somehow, I’m on my bed.
He never breaks the kiss as he moves me, and my hands are suddenly buried in his hair, clutching him closer, needing him impossibly closer.
The only thing grounding me is the softness of the bed beneath my back. Everything else is him.
The hand that had gripped my ass slides beneath my yoga pants, curving around to my front. Just before he touches me there, he pulls away.
My eyes are still closed until a soft puff of air against my lips forces them open.
“Do you want me to stop?”
He means it. I can see it in his eyes. He would stop instantly if I asked.
But my mind betrays me, shaking my head instead.
He doesn’t kiss me again right away. He watches—watches my mouth as I bite down on my lower lip while his fingers trace the outline of my thong.
He pushes the fabric aside, his breath hitching audibly. He’s holding back. Careful. As if afraid I might shatter.
I know instinctively that if I like this taste, what follows will be far more dangerous.
His thumb and forefinger pinch my clit, and a broken, euphoric cry tears from my throat.
He captures my mouth again, likely to silence the sounds I can no longer control.
“Fuck,” he mutters as one finger drags lower, pressing insistently at my entrance.
“You’re already soaking, sweetheart.”
He groans when he pushes inside me, burying himself to the hilt.
“Damien,” I pant as he adds another finger, setting a brutal, perfect rhythm pressing deep, hitting that sensitive place again and again before retreating only to return.
“Aurélie.”
He breathes my name like a vow. Like a confession.
There’s no doubt left he wants me. Completely.
My eyes widen as he continues, relentless, skilled, and I can’t find words before the tension snaps.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he commands.
And I do my moan muffled against his lips as he claims them again.
Claiming me.
As if from this moment on, they belong to him.