Chapter 119
Aria pov
“Say my name again,” he ordered, voice low and dangerous. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with surprising gentleness before his mouth crashed down on mine.
The kiss was raw, consuming—teeth and tongue and desperation. He swept inside my mouth like he owned it, tasting the remnants of his earlier claim, groaning when I sucked on his tongue in return. My fingers twisted into his dark hair, yanking him closer, needing more.
He rewarded me with another deep roll of his hips, grinding his cock against me. The friction sent aftershocks racing through me; I whimpered into his mouth.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard.
“Please,” I managed, the word trembling.
“Please what?” His lips found the side of my neck, sucking hard—hard enough to bruise, hard enough to mark. “Tell me exactly what you want, Aria. Use your words p>
His right hand slid down my body, possessive and sure, until he gripped the back of my thigh and hiked it high around his hip. The movement forced my dress up to my waist and spread me open; the new angle notched the thick head of his cock directly against my soaked entrance, only thin layers of fabric separating us. Every tiny shift of his hips dragged that swollen ridge over my clit, teasing, promising.
“I want” The words dissolved as my mouth found his throat. I scraped my teeth along his racing pulse, then bit down—not gently—savoring the way his entire body jerked against mine.
“Yes,” he hissed, hips bucking forward so hard the mirrored wall rattled behind me. “Mark me. Let every fucking person in this city see who I belong to p>
His free hand slid between us, cupping me possessively through the ruined lace. Two fingers pushed the fabric aside and plunged back into my dripping heat without warning, curling deep while his thumb found my clit again.
“You’re still so fucking wet,” he growled against my ear. “This little cunt is greedy for me. Been clenching around nothing since the car, hasn’t it? Waiting to be filled p>
I moaned against his neck, hips rocking shamelessly onto his hand. The elevator chimed, announcing our floor. The sound was like cold water as reality crashed back. I froze, my eyes flying open.
“Wait” I pushed against his chest. “We can’t”
The doors began to open.
“Aria”
“No.” I ducked under his arm, my heels clicking on the marble floor as I practically ran toward my room. “I need to check on Noah. Dora should have put him to bed but I need to”
“Aria, wait”
“Goodnight, Damien.” I didn’t look back.
I slipped into Noah’s room, my heart pounding. He was asleep, his small body curled around his dinosaur plushie. Dora had left a note saying he’d gone down easily at eight.
I stood there, watching him breathe, trying to calm my racing pulse. What was I doing? This was Damien. The man who’d destroyed me. And I’d just—in the car—and then the elevator.
My face burned. My body still hummed with unsatisfied need.
But I couldn’t at least not yet. I kissed Noah’s forehead and retreated to my own room, locking the door behind me.
Damien POV
I stood frozen in the shadowed hallway, staring at the smooth mahogany of her closed bedroom door like it was the only thing keeping me from complete fucking ruin.
My body was strung so taut I could feel every heartbeat throbbing in my cock—still rock-hard, still aching from the taste of her on my tongue, from the way her slick heat had clenched around my fingers in the car like she never wanted to let go.
The memory of her broken little whimpers, the way her thighs had trembled and locked around my wrist, the flood of her arousal coating my hand—it was all still there, burned into my senses. I could still smell her on my skin, sweet and musky and so goddamn addictive.
I shifted my weight, wincing as the fabric of my tuxedo pants scraped over the swollen, leaking head of my dick. Torture. Pure, exquisite torture.
I lifted my hand to knock—knuckles hovering an inch from the wood—then forced it back down. No. She’d run. She’d needed air, needed distance, needed to check on Noah and remind herself why letting me close again was dangerous. If I pushed through that door right now, all needy and desperate and half out of my mind with want, I’d scare her off for good. I’d already lost tyears. I wasn’t losing her again because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants for one more night.
But fuck, I wanted her.Wanted to kick that door open, pin her to the nearest wall, hike that red silk up around her waist again, and drive into her until neither of us could breathe.
Wanted to feel her nails rake down my back, wanted to hear her sob my name while I fucked her so deep she’d feel the shape of me for days. I wanted to spread her out on my bed, lick every inch of her until she was shaking and begging, then flip her over and take her from behind while I told her—over and over—that she was mine. That she’d always been mine.
My hand lifted again, this time to my face. I pressed two fingers—the same two that had been buried inside her twenty minutes ago—under my nose and inhaled deeply. Her scent hit me like a drug: warm, feminine, aroused.
My cock jerked hard in my pants, a fresh bead of pre-cum soaking through the fabric. A low, feral smile curved my lips despite everything. Insane? Probably. But she’d come apart for me tonight. She’d let me in, let me touch, let me taste. That was more than I’d had in a month.
I turned on my heel before I could change my mind and stalked to my own suite at the end of the hall. The door shut behind me with a soft click. Straight to the bathroom—no lights, just the faint glow from the city skyline bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows.