Chapter 184
Grace could feel it—deep inside her body, a surge of heat was flowing out, completely beyond her control.
Damian seemed to sense it too.
Because his palm, covering her opening, could clearly feel that thin layer of cotton fabric getting wet, little by little.
He let out a low chuckle.
"You're wet."
His voice wasn't loud, but it hit Grace like a hard slap across the face.
Her face instantly flushed red, shame overwhelming her. She snapped her eyes open and glared at him furiously.
"Damian, you bastard!"
Her curse had no power at all—instead, it sounded soft, tinged with desire.
Damian looked at her flushed and angry expression, the hunger in his eyes deepening.
"I can be even more of a bastard."
As he spoke, his palm pressed down harder.
Using the heel of his hand, he found her most sensitive spot and began to move slowly, drawing circles, grinding against her with just the right amount of pressure.
Grace gasped, her body arching up involuntarily.
This friction through the fabric—blurry yet precise—was more torturous than direct touch.
Her reason was crumbling fast.
Physical instinct was winning over shame and resistance. She even began unconsciously moving with his rhythm.
Damian noticed the subtle change in her.
He stopped the grinding motion and switched tactics.
His two fingers, still over the now-soaked fabric, found the hidden nub with precision.
Using his fingertips, he pressed and circled it gently.
"No... don't..." Grace squeezed out broken moans from her throat. She wanted to escape, to get away from this unfamiliar feeling.
But her body was firmly under his control. Her hands pinned above her head, her legs spread apart by his knee—she was completely helpless, completely at his mercy.
His fingers sped up.
The soaked fabric rubbed repeatedly against that most sensitive point under his touch.
Waves of pleasure washed over her.
Her vision blurred, her mind went blank.
Just as Grace felt herself approaching climax, Damian suddenly stopped.
All movement came to an abrupt halt.
The building sensation was abruptly cut short, stuck—unable to rise or fall, coursing through her body, driving her nearly insane with frustration.
Grace panted desperately, her body trembling slightly from the emptiness. She opened her hazy eyes and looked at him in confusion.
Damian watched her with complete composure.
In his eyes was undisguised mockery and control.
He leaned down, his lips against her ear, and asked in a slow, clear whisper:
"Do you want it?"
Grace's whole body shook, instantly snapping back to awareness.
Humiliation flooded over her again.
He was forcing her—forcing her to admit out loud that her body had surrendered to him.
She jerked her head away, avoiding his lips, her jaw clenched tight, refusing to say a word. Tears quickly filled her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back.
Her reaction was exactly what he expected.
He wasn't angry.
He simply straightened up and released her wrists.
Grace thought he was going to let her go and felt a moment of relief, but the next second, her heart skipped a beat.
Damian hadn't left. Instead, he lifted her legs at the knees and hooked them over his shoulders.
This position left her completely exposed to him, with no cover at all.
"No..." Grace tried frantically to lower her legs, but he held them firmly in place with his shoulders. She couldn't move.
Damian looked down, his gaze burning as he stared at that area wrapped in white cotton, now completely soaked.
Then he lowered his head.
Through the wet fabric, his lips pressed down.
Grace felt her mind go completely blank.
A warm, soft sensation came clearly through that thin layer of cotton.
Then he stuck out his tongue and, through the fabric, pressed hard against her opening.
"Ah!"
An uncontrollable scream burst from Grace's throat.
Her body convulsed violently, like she'd been electrocuted. Her mind went blank—all reason and shame shattered completely in that moment.
He didn't stop.
His tongue, through the fabric, began mimicking what his fingers had done—circling, licking, varying the pressure.
He even used his teeth to nibble gently through the cloth.
This extreme shame mixed with extreme pleasure wove together like an inescapable web, capturing Grace completely.
She broke down.
Grace started crying, tears sliding continuously from the corners of her eyes. She struggled, twisting her body, trying to escape this feeling that was killing her.
"Please... don't..." Her voice was broken, tearful. "Damian... please..."
Damian lifted his head.
His lips were stained with her wetness, looking exceptionally red. In his eyes, desire surged like a beast about to lose control.
He looked at her tear-streaked face, at her skin flushed with arousal, at her unfocused, misty eyes.
He leaned down again, lips against her ear.
In that utterly hoarse voice, carrying a devil's temptation, he asked again:
"Say it. Do you want it?"
Grace trembled all over, the desire suspended inside her body torturing her to near madness.
She wanted it. She was going crazy wanting it.
Her reason told her she couldn't say it, couldn't surrender.
But her body had already betrayed her.
Grace looked into Damian's determined eyes. All her stubbornness and defenses crumbled in that moment.
She closed her eyes, tears flowing even harder.
Though her mind was clouded with desire, the last thread of clarity in Grace's heart knew one thing—only if Damian was pleased would he lower his guard, and only then might she have the slightest chance to escape this cage.
Finally, after a suppressed sob, an answer slipped from her trembling lips, light as air.
"...I want it."
The answer was barely audible, yet it hit Damian with tremendous impact.
"...I want it."
He heard it.
He looked down at Grace with her tear-filled eyes, at her cheeks flushed with desire and shame, at her disheveled hair stuck to her face, wet with tears.
A smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, filled with satisfaction and certainty of victory.
He straightened up but didn't immediately satisfy her. He simply took his time, admiring how she looked right now.
He released her legs from his shoulders.
Grace immediately drew her legs up, instinctively trying to close them in a protective gesture.
His palm pressed against one of her knees, preventing her from closing them.
He leaned down, eyes dark and intent as he watched her.
"What do you want?" Damian asked, his voice hoarse, deliberately leading her on.