Chapter 79: Tell Me To Stop Fucking You

Celeste POV

I blinked against the brightness, feeling the warmth on my face. The sheets beside me were cold and empty.

My body ached pleasantly as I sat up, memories of last night flooding back in vivid flashes. The carpet burns on my knees, the bruises forming on my hips, the lingering taste of whiskey from Damien's mouth—all evidence of boundaries crossed.

I slipped from the bed, finding Damien's dress shirt from last night crumpled on the floor. The fabric smelled like him—sandalwood and something distinctly masculine—as I buttoned it over my naked body. My dress lay somewhere in the living room, likely ruined.

I found Damien in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with his head in his hands. He wore only pajama bottoms, his muscled back tense under the morning light. An empty glass of water sat beside him.

"Good morning," I said softly.

He winced at the sound, not turning around. "Is it?"

I approached carefully, noting the bottle of painkillers next to the water glass. "Hangover?"

"Like a sledgehammer to the skull," he muttered. His voice was rough, gravelly with dehydration and the remnants of last night's excess.

I moved around him to fill the electric kettle. The kitchen was all sleek lines and stainless steel, barely used but perfectly equipped. "I'll make you some tea. It helps better than coffee."

He grunted something that might have been agreement or dismissal. I found chamomile tea bags in a cabinet and prepared two mugs. The domesticity of the moment struck me—standing in Damien Kane's kitchen, wearing his shirt, making him tea for a hangover after a night of passion. It was surreal.

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked, placing a steaming mug in front of him.

He finally looked up. Despite the obvious hangover, his eyes were sharp as they traveled over me, lingering on my bare legs beneath his shirt. "Not much. You?"

"A little." I sipped my tea, watching him over the rim. "You were restless."

The kettle continued to steam between us, adding warmth to the cool modern kitchen. Damien wrapped his hands around the mug, soaking in the heat.

"I should go," I said after a moment of silence. "I need to get ready for work."

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe disappointment? "Use the guest bathroom to shower if you want. There are towels in the cabinet."

I nodded and took my tea with me, feeling his gaze on my back as I walked away.

The guest bathroom was bigger than my entire apartment bedroom, with marble tiles and a glass shower enclosure that could have fit three people comfortably. I set my tea on the counter and turned on the shower, letting steam fill the room as I removed Damien's shirt.

The hot water felt heavenly on my tired muscles. I used his expensive shampoo, breathing in the citrus scent as I washed away the evidence of our night together. Just as I was rinsing my hair, the bathroom door opened.

Damien stood there, still shirtless, still looking like he'd been hit by a truck—but with fire in his eyes.

"What did I tell you last night?" he demanded without preamble.

I froze, water streaming down my body. "What?"

"Last night. What did I tell you?" His voice had that edge again, the one that made subordinates tremble at the office.

I reached for the shower door, but didn't open it yet. "You said a lot of things."

"About Victor Williams. About your father." He stepped closer to the shower. "How much did I reveal?"

I considered lying, but something in his intensity made me reconsider. "You told me Victor Williams was my father. That he knew your mother."

Damien's jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "That's it?"

"You're surprisingly tight-lipped, even when drunk," I said, trying to keep my voice light despite the tension coiling in my stomach.

He stared at me through the steamed glass, his expression unreadable. Then, abruptly: "The pregnancy test. What were the results?"

My breath caught. "I—I haven't checked yet."

"Bullshit." He stepped closer to the shower door. "You've known for days that something was off. You wouldn't have waited."

"I'm checking the results today," I insisted, suddenly very aware of my nakedness behind the gradually clearing glass.

His hand slammed against the wall next to the shower. "Don't lie to me. Not after last night."

"I'm not lying. They said the results would be ready today."

"Then we'll check together," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous low tone that sent shivers down my spine despite the hot water. "Because I'll get the truth from you or from the doctor at the hospital. Your choice."

Something about his commanding tone, about the intensity in his eyes—it triggered heat deep in my core, despite my irritation at being cornered.

"You have no right—"

The shower door yanked open before I could finish. Cold air rushed in, raising goosebumps on my wet skin as Damien stepped into the shower fully clothed. His pajama bottoms darkened instantly as water soaked them.

"I have every right," he growled, backing me against the cool tile wall. "If you're carrying my child, I have every fucking right."

Water streamed down his face, plastering his dark hair to his forehead. His eyes burned into mine, challenging, demanding.

I should have been angry. I should have pushed him away. Instead, I grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to mine.

He responded instantly, pressing me harder against the wall. His hands were everywhere—gripping my thighs, sliding up my waist, cupping my breasts. The tile was cold against my back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed against my front.

"You drive me insane," he muttered against my neck, kissing a path down to my collarbone.

I wrapped my leg around his waist, pulling him closer. "The feeling is mutual."

He lifted me suddenly, hands gripping my thighs as he pinned me to the wall. The wet fabric of his pajamas rubbed against my most sensitive spots as I wrapped both legs around him now.

"Tell me to stop touching you," he said, echoing his words from last night, his face inches from mine.

"Never," I whispered back.

That was all it took. In one fluid motion, he pushed his soaked pants down just enough and thrust his hard bony dick into me, swallowing my gasp with his mouth and deep kissing me. The shower continued to rain down on us as we moved together his raming my pussy hard, the sound of water drowning out our moans.

It was fast and desperate, both of us still riding the emotional high of last night's revelations. My nails dug into his shoulders as I held on, the pressure building too quickly to hold back. I was bouncing of his dick as he lifted me  up and grabbing my ass with his strong hands  I came, hot juice pouring out of my pussy on his dick, my vision blurred at the edges, his name a breathless cry on my lips. He followed moments later, his forehead pressed against mine, water streaming between our joined bodies.

We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, my legs still wrapped around him, his hands still supporting my weight. The water began to run cool, bringing us back to reality.

Wordlessly, he set me down, his eyes never leaving mine as he backed out of the shower. Water dripped from his soaked pants onto the bathroom floor as he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my racing heart and shaking legs. And A million questions