Chapter 17: Falling into temptation

The way he exhales through his lips and runs his tongue slowly across them sends my imagination spiraling, wondering where else that tongue might go if he wanted.

"Of course not, love. You’ll beg for me, you’ll plead for me, you’ll scream my name while I’m buried deep inside you," he answers, triggering an involuntary tightening low in my stomach.

"You’re nothing but a sexist bastard and a stalker. I hate you. I hate you so much I can’t even stand to look at your face."

"You don’t want to see my face, but I’ve noticed you enjoy looking at my body. If it bothers you that much, I can always take you from behind."

Damien steps closer, but this time I stand my ground, chin high. His scent overwhelms my senses, addictive and maddening.

I push against his chest to stop him from closing the distance.

"You missed your chance two years ago when you rejected me and vanished. Then again when you showed up in my room just to steal my pills instead of touching me. And again today, trying to punish me. You missed it, darling. Lost your chance."

He glances at my hand on his chest, amused. He knows I can’t really stop him. And I’m not even talking about physical strength.

Before I can say anything else, I’m distracted by the tight muscles beneath his tailored shirt. My fingers press flat against them, brushing, then curling, tracing the rise and fall of his breath.

"You were saying..." he murmurs. I don’t even remember what I was saying.

The truth is, I’ve wanted to tear his clothes off for years. And I want it now more than ever.

"I hate you. That’s what I was saying," I reply, but I don’t move my hand. One finger slips between the buttons of his shirt.

"I could use my tie as a blindfold. That way you won’t have to look at me while I fucking you."

"Fuck you, you son of a bitch. Lucky for you, you’re stupidly hot," I mutter, shoving his hands away to remove his blazer and undo the buttons of his shirt.

Fuck self-control.

Damien grabs my wrists and turns me around. With shocking speed, the mafioso slips his tie over my eyes, tying a loose knot, and lets his fingers trail down my neck.

"I like your hair this color. It suits you," he says.

The compliment pleases me more than I want to admit. I love my hair. I chose this shade because it’s our favorite color, something he told me during one of those late-night talks back when I still thought he was just a figment of my imagination.

I should’ve known he was real. None of my other imaginary friends ever compared to him.

Damien grabs both my hands with just one of his, guiding me to press them against the wall. I lift my ass and grind on his big erection. I’ve never been so thankful for high heels in my entire life.

He lifts the skirt of my good-girl dress. My mind drifts to the other rooms in the house, my so-called fiancé and my parents are probably fast asleep, completely unaware of what’s happening between me and their supposed stepson.

“Just wait ‘til you find out where I have a piercing,” I say as he pulls my panties down.

He lets out a sound of satisfaction as he runs his hands up my legs, one of them still holding my panties. The other reaches between my thighs, invading my intimacy.

His fingers explore the soaked folds, already waiting for him. Another deep sound of satisfaction escapes his chest.

A shiver runs down my spine as his skilled fingers move over me. He knows exactly what he’s doing, the bastard definitely knows.

He brings a hand to my stomach and pulls me tight against him. His kisses travel along my neck and shoulder, leaving a hot, tingling trail.

Then he turns me around and lifts me up. I wrap my arms and legs around him as he carries me back to the vanity. But he lets go, much to my frustration. I pull him back, unable to hold his warmth close to me.

Damien guides my hands to his chest. I help him take off the suit and unbutton his shirt, struggling with the damn buttons, desperate to get rid of anything keeping me from feeling him fully.

I move my hands down to his belt, but he redirects them back up to his shoulders.

Even with the tie covering my eyes, not being able to see him only heightens the thrill.

He pulls down the straps of my dress, exposing my breasts. I know he’s taking his time admiring them. I wish I could see the look on his face. I nearly take the tie off, but he leans down and sucks one of my nipples with hunger.

I grab onto him, wrapping my arms around his back. He pulls me closer by the waist, strong arms full of heat and possession. His mouth travels between my breasts, down my body, leaving teasing bites along the way.

Then he pulls back for just a moment. I know what he’s doing—he’s seen my secret piercing. I had wanted one on my eyebrow, but school rules said no. So I made other arrangements.

“Holy shit, woman,” he growls before his mouth claims my lower lips.

He hasn’t even kissed my mouth tonight, and yet he’s doing unspeakably wonderful things to the rest of me. His tongue swirls around the tiny heart-shaped piercing, and I pull him closer.

That’s what I call a real kiss.

If I had known he planned to do this back on my eighteenth birthday, I would definitely have thrown my pills away willingly..

Feels like weeks ago, not days…

My thoughts fade as he moves with maddening rhythm, up, down, over and again. The hand still holding my panties works one of my breasts, rubbing the fabric in a way that drives me wild. The other plunges inside me, first one finger, then two. They’re thick and perfectly placed, making me lose control.

I can’t help the moans escaping my lips, not that I try. Damien does care, though. He covers my mouth. I bite his hand along with the fabric, and he lets me. It muffles the sounds enough.

His rhythm gets sharper. His tongue finds the sweet spot above the piercing while his fingers keep working inside me. I’m on the edge, so close I can feel the tremors starting.

Suddenly, he pulls away. I barely have time to protest before he turns me around and bends me over the vanity. A slap lands on my ass, followed by a firm massage.

“Save this moment well, Leonor, your first cum with me will be on my cock,” he says, and I hear the sound of his zipper.

Without warning, he fills me. I’m soaked, so he slides in easier, but I still feel every inch of him. He’s thick, and it takes me a moment to adjust. But he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t hold back. I learn his shape through every rough, deep thrust.

Pre-orgasm sensations return quickly. He pulls me closer and slides a hand to the front, playing with the little heart between my legs, pushing me over the edge.

“You can cum for me now, Leonor,” he murmurs, one hand covering my mouth, the other keeping up the pressure.

My whole body shakes as waves of pleasure take over. He doesn’t stop. It goes on and on, until I feel my body melt into his, inner muscles clenching around him.

“Damn, woman, you’re gonna kill me.”

If I could form words, I could tell him that he is doing this to me.

Somehow, I find the strength to get rid of the tie. I need to look at him when he's cumming.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and this seems to spur him on even more. Him fucking me from behind, covering my mouth while still holding my panties, our clothes half off... it's all just too crazy.

He bends me forward for another smack. Damn, he looks so hot. I want this man every single day. Our late-night visits will never be the same.

I clench around him again, pulling a rough moan from his throat. He slams into me harder. Our pupils blown wide, lost in the madness. It’s better than any pill I’ve ever had.

This man is my new addiction.

“Damien…” I start, but I don’t even know what I meant to say. The sound is muffled under his palm.

“Fuck, you feel amazing. So damn tight…” he growls with pleasure.

Just hearing his voice sends another wave through me. He thrusts deeper, harder, wrapping me in his arms, not letting the moment go.

My blurred vision catches a perfect view in the mirror, this man, perfect and wild, spilling inside me.