by Layla Frost
To me, at least.
My words hit their target. Damien’s intensity didn’t decrease, but it was no longer edged with anger. Well, if it was, it wasn’t directed at me. His expression softened, and he opened his mouth, but it was my turn to talk over him.
All my frustration.
My pain.
My anger—at Damien, my parents, and myself.
My disgust—again, at all of us.
My fear, lust, darkness, and wrongness.
It all pushed up my knotted stomach and tight chest to burn like fire on the tip of my tongue. It had nowhere to go but out. Not as an exploding bomb or an erupting volcano, but as a supernova. One demanding I lash out until everything was destroyed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tailor my entire life around you. I’m sorry I couldn’t see into the future to know that after you were done ignoring me and making my life hell, you’d have demands about how I lived said life. Most of all, I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I give a damn about your opinion. We’re not lovers, which is good because I have no desire to be spanked or bossed around or whatever other fucked-up shit you’re into. We’re not friends. We’re not even teacher and student because you’re a shitty professor. As far as I’m concerned, we’re nothing. I’m a dancer and you’re just another customer. If you don’t want to see me dance, stay the hell home and leave me alone!”
As soon as the words were out, I wanted to inhale them back. I wanted to crumble under the weight of my fuck-upped-ness. I wanted to cry or fight or fuck. My pent-up emotions had tasted like fire on my tongue, but the purge of them was bitter. Foul. Poisonous and acrid, making me grimace.
Because most of what I’d shouted had been lies. Not about how unfair he’d been—that shit was fact. But rather my feelings about him. Us.
And speaking a lie out loud meant there was no hiding from it. No ignoring it. It had to be acknowledged for the mistruth it was for the liar to consciously carry on the deceit.
Damien’s dark promises and seductive threats had tried to break into the locked away part of my psyche. He may have splintered the door, but he hadn’t been able to pry it open.
By acknowledging my hidden desires, I’d been the one to rip the cover off my mind’s mirror, forcing myself to face it.
Which meant I was left to lie about the darkness I saw reflecting back at me.
I’d been lying for so long, it came as natural as breathing. Only right then, as I met Damien’s cold stare, my breathing wasn’t natural. It was rapid and ragged, my chest rising and falling with the effort. And the lies wouldn’t come.
“Strip.”
I jolted at Damien’s calm order. “What?”
“What’s the big deal? Do what you always do and pretend I’m just another faceless schmuck. Another tip. Another nobody. Like you said, I’m one of them. So strip.”
I’d never been prone to violence, but in that moment, I wanted to slap him. I wanted to smack the cold, harshness out of his tone and off his expression. I also wanted to tackle him back on the bed and kiss him until neither of us could breathe. Maybe it was like the old romance movies where the heroine slapped the hero and then they kissed passionately.
But I knew one thing for sure.
Damien was no hero.
His face twisted in a mocking sneer as he shifted and pulled his wallet out. Grabbing a fistful of cash, he tossed it.
None of it hit me as it fluttered softly to the ground, but the emotional hit was so physical, the bills might as well have sliced my flesh.
It hurt.
Because those were my words he’d attacked with. I’d said them first, launching them at him like missiles meant to obliterate whatever the pull was between us.
Leaning over to rest his elbows back on his knees, his emotionless expression made goosebumps spread across my body. “Put your damn mask on, Eden, and dance.”
As his blank gaze—no heat or fire or storm—stared at me expectantly, I had a choice to make.
I could walk out. Just turn and go, severing everything just like I’d always claimed to want.
Or I could give in a little.
My decision was instantaneous. Stupid, impulsive, shortsighted, and reckless, but instantaneous.
I didn’t swivel my hips. It wasn’t slow and sensual. There was no thumping beat, physics bending twisting, or exaggerated hair flipping.
With no theatrics, I met his unwavering gaze as I unzipped my hoodie and pushed it off.
His pupils dilated, leaving barely a ring of blue.
My shoes and yoga pants were kicked off and added to the pile.
His jaw clenched, the muscles in his shoulders visibly bunching.
Gripping the bottom of my top, I pulled it over my head and dropped it.
No longer blank or cold, he was an inferno of unbridled heat.
It wasn’t the first time I’d taken my clothes off for him. Standing in my bra and panties, it wasn’t even the most exposed I’d been. But it was different. It wasn’t about work or tips or even his gruff order. It was because I wanted to.
Which meant I’d never felt more bare.
Damien reached out and grabbed my hips. Pulling me closer, he looked up at me, his scruffy chin skimming the sensitive skin of my stomach. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?”
I shook my head, unable to form words as his hands slid to cup my ass.
“I wanted to fuck you the very first time I saw you. But I’ve wanted you since I heard you speak. Never wanted anything more, and it’s only grown.”
My brows lowered. “I don’t understand the difference.”
“You will.” He pressed his lips to the skin above my panties. Moving to hold my hips again, he pulled me down as he fell back with his legs bent off the bed.
Straddling him, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding down.
Damien tightened his grip, stilling my movements. “Take off my shirt.” He lifted onto his elbows. Happily pushing my hands under his long sleeve t-shirt, I’d barely felt a single one of his abs when he stopped me. “I said to take it off, not touch me.”
I paused for a moment, trying to read him. Something was different, but I didn’t know what. Grabbing his shirt, I pulled it up. His muscles clenched and tightened as he shifted so I could remove it and toss it behind me. I couldn’t touch, but my eyes greedily took him all in.
His abs and chest were defined, hard ridges. I’d known he was in shape, but I hadn’t realized how much so.
“Now my pants,” he ordered, staying up on his elbows.
Shifting back, I nearly fell off the bed in my haste to remove the pesky fabric barrier. I got my bearings enough to be somewhat graceful as I dropped to my knees and reached for his waistband. His hand covered mine, and my gaze shot to his.
They were filled with a visceral satisfaction that branded me as he greedily took in how I looked right then, kneeling before him.
He held the eye contact for a few intense beats before removing his hand.
My hands shook slightly as I undid the button and tugged carefully at the zipper, my knuckles dragging against his hardness. It jerked under my touch, and Damien’s hips shot up. They stayed like that as I tugged his jeans down, dumping them and his socks and shoes onto the heap of my clothes.
Like with knowing what side of the bed he slept on, the image of our discarded clothes piled together was too intimate.
The panic I felt budding didn’t have the chance to bloom before Damien’s hands spanned my ribs, lifting me to straddle him again. Weaving his hand into my hair, his lips crushed mine, his hips thrusting to press against me. Still confined by his boxer briefs, only the base of his cock rubbed where I wanted him most, the rest of his intimidating length curving along his pelvis. The barriers of fabric between us were thin but might as well have been a brick wall.
Just the tease of him was enough. Like they had a dirty mind of their own, my hips rocked faster.
Rolling us so he was on top, he tore his mouth from min
e to bite out, “Up the bed.”
We both scooched to the top of the bed, though his mouth on my neck and collarbone were distracting.
“Hold onto the headboard, Eden.”
His order didn’t make sense through the lust-fog, though I dropped my arms to the side all the same. “What?”
“Hold the headboard and don’t let go until I say so.” As though he couldn’t be separated for longer than absolutely necessary, Damien’s last word was muttered against my mouth before he took it. Shifting his weight, his splayed hand spanned my hip and moved up.
Tenderly following the dip of my waist.
Reverently curving the swell of my breast.
Roughly caressing my arm, pressing it upward as he continued his path until our arms were outstretched above our heads.
Tightly encircling my wrist before easing his hold, his hand wrapped around mine as he curled my fingers around a slat on his headboard.
I wrapped my other hand around a slat because as badly as I wanted to touch him, I wanted his hands and mouth on me more.
His groan of approval vibrated against me as he pushed my bra down and cupped my breast. The rough pad of his thumb skimmed across my nipple, tightening it and making me moan.
Tearing his mouth from mine, he licked along my neck until he reached my ear. “Quiet, Eden,” he whispered raggedly, his lips grazing. Like a test, he pushed against me harder, his fingers giving my nipple a hard tug. I nearly bit through my lip, but my silence was rewarded again when he pushed the other cup down and caressed that breast.
Taking his time, he trailed down to my breasts, sporadically kissing and nipping. I was tense and on edge, never knowing when to expect the soft brush of his lips or the sharp pain of his teeth.
Never knowing which I was hoping for.
He inched closer to my nipple, only to swirl his treacherous tongue around it before retreating. Over and over, he switched between my breasts, getting close to my nipples but never touching them.
I stretched, arched, twisted, and turned, desperate to end the torment.
“Patience, angel,” he murmured before starting again, farther away each time I tried to push him.
Strung tight, I jerked when Damien’s large hand covered me over my panties, his long middle finger grazing up and down. I wanted to move, to beg him to touch me harder, but I knew if I did, he’d stop.
“So wet,” he gruffly murmured, pushing my panties to the side. His fingers began their slow exploration as he continued teasing my breasts, the combination making me mindless. When his mouth finally closed around my nipple and sucked hard, there was no holding in my moan of pleasure and sigh of relief.
His hand and mouth left me as he glared through hooded eyes.
Rolling my lips between my teeth, I squeezed the headboard hard enough to leave indents in my flesh.
Satisfied, he sucked my nipple into his mouth, holding it between his teeth and flicking his tongue rapidly across it. His finger settled over my clit, circling as he applied enough pressure that my hips shot up.
My impending orgasm built to unbearable levels—each bite, flick, stroke, and press launching me higher and higher. I needed to come more than I’d needed anything before. More than I needed to breathe or eat or even sleep. It wasn’t just about what he was doing at that moment, though that was enough. The tension that filled me was the culmination of hate and anger and a desperately denied torrent of lust.
It was our dysfunctional pendulum, swinging so hard it would break.
And it would take me with it.
I chased it until I was at the metaphorical cliff, about to dive into the blissful abyss. For fear of him stopping, I held my breath to keep my scream from escaping. My legs began to tremble, my thoughts a rush of nothing and everything all at once.
And then he stopped.
Like a bungee cord was attached to my back, my jolt from the edge was violent and jarring. My breath whooshed from my lungs, a plea on the tip of my tongue.
I practically sobbed with relief when he readjusted, switching to torment my other nipple as his thick finger slid between my pussy lips. He skimmed along, slow and teasing. By the time his finger moved up to work my clit harder than before, I was a ticking time bomb ready to explode. My breath quickened, my brain went hazy, and my eyes closed as I clutched the headboard tighter.
And then he stopped.
But the heartless bastard wasn’t just pausing to rest his fingers or mouth. No, he stopped.
“Nooo!” I reached out to hold him to me, but my boneless, trembling arms may as well have been cooked spaghetti with as easily as he dislodged himself.
Damien moved from between my legs and got off the bed, heading toward the door. “Go to sleep, Eden.”
I launched up, my body still thrumming and coiled tight. My eyes hit him just as the room went black, but it was enough time to see I wasn’t the only one needing release.
Dragging my thoughts out of his pants, I threw my arms out despite the fact he likely couldn’t see me in the dark. “Are you kidding me? I can’t sleep right now.”
The covers were tugged from under me before the bed dipped. His arms wrapped around me, positioning my head on his chest. I was about to repeat my complaint when he spoke, his voice quiet and his lips pressed against the top of my head. “Maybe next time I tell you something, you’ll listen.”
“I couldn’t have quit, I’d have lost—”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Then why am I being punished?”
His fingers tangled in my hair, playing with the stands like we were lovers discussing our day. “This isn’t a punishment. I’m doing what you said.” His hand fisted, a pleasurable tug radiating across my scalp as he moved me until we were nose to nose. With his lips just barely brushing mine, he whispered, “I’m leaving you alone.”
If I’d wanted to take the words back when I’d first said them, I wanted to choke on them right then. Or maybe choke him. I wasn’t sure which.
I did know one thing.
“You’re insane,” I said.
“Probably.”
“No, not probably—definitely. Only an insane person uses… sexual manipulation!”
“I’m wounded, Eden,” he said, though I could hear the amusement in his tone. “I’m merely doing what you wanted.”
“No, if you were doing what I wanted, you’d… You know what, never mind.” I shifted, intent on getting dressed and going home no matter what ridiculous hour it was. “I’ll do it myself.”
Damien moved faster, wrapping his strong arms around me. Pulling me close, he repositioned me with my head on his chest. “You do that, my depraved angel, and you will be punished.”
If this isn’t considered punishment, I don’t want to know what is.
“You’ve had a long night, you need to get some sleep.” His tone was stern, but the concern in his words and the way he held me were almost… sweet.
Holy shit, I really am a mess.
At a loss for words but stubborn enough to want the last one, I muttered a snarky, “Could’ve done that just fine in my own bed.”
A swift smack landed on my ass, heightening my arousal that’d only just started to wane. “Attitude, Eden.”
“Whatever.” I turned in a huff, but Damien followed, his large body curving around mine, his thumb stroking lightly on my stomach.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said, a low chuckle lacing his words.
He’s enjoying this.
Pressing my lips together, I gave up on getting the last word, refusing to play his game.
I’ll wait until he’s asleep and then I’ll leave.
As the silence stretched, my body began to loosen, unknotting from all the stress and sexual tension that’d wound it so tight. I tried to cling to my anger, using it as a shield. A makeshift cover to hang in front of the mirror.
But exhaustion took over, weakening my defense as I drifted in and out of sleep despite my efforts to fight it. Giving up,
I snuggled into Damien’s arms and surrendered to the darkness.
The darkness of the night sky.
The darkness of midnight eyes.
And the darkness inside me.
Chapter Nineteen
* * *
It’s Not Polite to Stare
Damien
I’d known the exact moment Eden had finally allowed herself to relax. It’d come in stages. Her body had gradually loosened, melting into mine. It’d taken longer, but her hands had eventually stopped fidgeting, which meant her mind had quieted, too. I’d thought she was asleep, but then she’d snuggled in, wiggling her tight ass against my dick as she’d burrowed deeper into me.
Under my skin.
It’d almost been enough to make me roll her over and wake her back up with my mouth.
But I had a plan to stick to, a reason for the torture I was putting myself through. Even if it didn’t feel like it right then, with her body perfectly fit with mine and my dick so hard it hurt, it’d be worth it.
Inhaling deeply, I got a nose full of Eden’s sweet scent. She wiggled again, arching and settling back in with her ass pressed harder against me and her leg stretched to force its way between mine.
Awake she might call me every well-deserved name there was, but in sleep she sought me out.
Good for the plan. Torment for my dick.
Sleep wasn’t happening. Carefully, I uncurled from around her and moved to the other side of the bed. I froze when she rolled and nearly went back when she reached out toward me, her unconscious mind wanting what her cognizant one denied.
But staying meant fucking her. And fucking her meant fucking everything up.
Is it worth it?
Standing, I looked down at Eden in the streaming moonlight. Her face was relaxed in a way I’d rarely seen, her blonde hair tousled against the pillow like a wicked halo. She was delicately beautiful.
Ethereal.
An angel.
Mine.
Completely fucking worth it.
Quietly, I left the room, easing the door closed behind me. Heading for my bathroom, I turned the shower on to heat up before shoving my boxers off, my dick bouncing with freedom. I stepped into the shower stall, the spray of the hot water stinging as it pelted my body. Jets hit my shoulders and back, but the muscles didn’t loosen.