6

DAMIAN

The walk to my bedroom takes longer than usual and the rising need to get away from that she-devil comes faster than my erections at the sight of a willing woman chained to my bed. This one threatens to consume me.

How can such a small woman make me lose my cool, twice in barely twenty-four hours? I muse to myself while the image of her face pops up.

If I don't hear from her husband, I'd have to order her death. No one is to be spared if I don't catch the real culprits. Stellëza would be looking down at me with an upturned nose and her pouty lips curled downward in disapproval but what do I care?

They touched what was mine first.

I produce my phone to bark orders at my men who are still on the lookout for the rest of those killers. Their response is in the negative and it only manages to make me see more red than I have ever seen.

I nearly punch a hole into my bedroom door as soon as I approach but the urge simmers down when a familiar sultry voice calls my name. Walking behind her is a very red-faced older woman, Alice.

“There you are!” Melanie calls out with her skimpy dress riding up her thighs as she raises her hands towards me.

My face shows no expression as I let her arms wrap around my middle and let her pepper kisses on my collarbone down to the front of my chest.

She looks up at me with her lashes fluttering in a childlike manner. “Little Miss Grumpy here told me you weren't home. I insisted on seeing you, so here I am. Today's Thursday, and I know you don't go out except it is really important.”

“Damian, you know how you like your privacies on Thursdays?” Alice begins cautiously with her eyebrows raised. I nod for her to continue. “I tried to stop her but she was too thickheaded to listen to my words.”

She is right. On Wednesday nights, I find myself dreading waking up to see a Thursday morning. When it does happen, all I do is shut everyone up and out of my life.

Where in the world should I be on the very day that my girlfriend was murdered in cold blood?

I see Alice's chest rising and falling in quick succession. She is in her late fifties and Melanie couldn't care less for her age. It's a good thing she has a humiliation kink and a weakness for being tied up in bed.

Otherwise, I'd have asked that she get punished and banned from ever stepping foot on these grounds.

I catch the scowl on Melanie's face directed at Alice, right before she turns to me with her face schooled to cuteness. “It's been weeks, baby. I've waited endlessly for your calls and didn't hear from you. You're only treating me unfairly because you know how crazed I am over you, how deeply crave your touch, how badly I… adore you.”

There's a scoff. I raise my eyes to meet Alice's departing figure as she walks down the hallway. Hiding my smile, my gaze rivets back to a pouting Melanie.

I disentangle her arms around me with one hand as I lean closer to her. “I've told you before Mel, and I'll say it again. Don't come here if I didn't invite you.”

She rolls her eyes as she resigns to my words. “You don't play fair. You call me every time you need me, I can't do the same. How’s that logic working for me? I'll tell you, it's not doing jack to ache this burning I feel for you.” She presses her body flush against mine.

A corner of my mouth tugs upwards. I'm familiar with her mind games. “This isn't anything like a relationship, Melanie. This is merely an arrangement but in this case, I'm the one who's calling the shots, not you. I'm the one who reaches out when I need to be satisfied, not you. Your body is mine to use as I choose. So if you can't abide by my terms, you can leave.”

“Fine!” She stomps her foot in childish anger. “I'm going back home.”

Not on my watch.

She barely moves an inch when I pull her back against me roughly. Her blue eyes spark with lust and out of her lips is the gasp of a silent ‘o’.

“You're going nowhere,” I growl against the shell of her ears. “Yet.”

She smells of citrus and even though I hate how it tickles my nose when she's in such proximity, it is the least of my worries.

Not when I need a vessel to empty all of my frustrations. She knows what she's here for.

The hand around her arm squeezes tighter and I lean a little towards her. “Did you say something?”

“I'm sorry…” she purses her lips before blowing an exhale, “Daddy.”

Those words ignite a fresh surge of lust pumping into my veins. Instead of heading to my room, I trap her body with mine against the wall opposite us, quickly nudging her thighs apart with my feet. Her back to my front.

No words are exchanged between us except for harsh breaths that indicate the lust carrying in our veins.

I yank her little dress up to her waist, reaching for the flimsy piece she always wears as an excuse for underwear only to find it bare and dripping with her essence. I rub two fingers against her slit to her engorged nub which I give a tap.

She exhales sharply and lolls her head back. “Yes, Daddy!” Her moans ring out loud and clear across the hallway.

“Someone's a little hungry.” I croon into her hair as I thrust three of my fingers suddenly into her.

Her body trembles and her pussy welcomes the intrusion of my hands like a starving kid presented with freshly baked buns. I raise my fingers to her face and she grabs them to slurp up her juices coating them, with low moans ringing from within her chest.

“Love how you taste?”

She pushes back against me, impatient. To that, I send another sharp slap to her pussy, so hard that her body bows and she gasps. “Yes!”

It's louder than the first.

I smirk. In seconds, my slacks are hanging low as I line my dick up to her entrance. “Say, Mel, to whom do you owe your life?”

She shudders at my question and without hesitation says, “You. Fuck, it's you!”

“Names, Mel.” I run my dick along her clit down to her pussy in slow strokes. “Names.”

I stop at her entrance, poised and ready to strike.

Her torso is bent halfway on the wall with her hips shooting out towards me. Her manicured fingers dig into the wall as she braces herself for the impact.

“Damian Kastorov!”

I lose common reasoning as I take her right there in the hallway. I plow into her rough and hard like an overcharged bull.

My movements are choppy and fast. I throw my head back in ecstasy as her pussy wraps around me like a fitted glove.

“You. Are. Mine. To. Fuck.” I grind out between clenched teeth. My fingers reach for her blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

I wrap it around my hand and pull it so that her neck is bared to me. I lean down and bite down on that spot. Alternating between sucking, licking, and biting down on that spot, I drive faster into her as I feel the impending storm of my climax in the telltale tightening of my balls.

“Yes, oh yes! Fuck!” Her voice is hoarse from her screams.

Two hands encircle her waist as I lift her, thrusting savagely from below. Every grunt I make punctuates the thrust of my hips digging into her wet snatch.

“Eta pizda moya,” I call out harshly, jaw locking when the tingle spreads to my head. “Touch yourself,” I order.

“This cunt will forever…” She says but the rest of her words are drowned out by the climax that sends blood rushing to my ears.

My strokes become long and hard, riding through my orgasm and calling out hers.

Every muscle in her body tenses for a millisecond before her hips buck wildly and she spasms against me. A slew of curses and pledges of her life to me leaves her lips.

“This pussy is yours, daddy! Brand me with your cum.” She moans loudly while her fingers are feverishly working to end her orgasm.

I pump into her roughly for a few minutes before I feel myself bottom out into her spasming pussy. Afterward, I pull out and lower her to her feet.

Her feet wobble and she slides to the ground with a shit-eating grin on her face from being fucked that way. Fast and hard.

After putting her dress in order, she presses against me once more. “That was aggressive. I like it.” She tries to catch me unguarded with a kiss but I move my face so fast that it lands on my jaw.

“Sleek little bitch.” I tell her with an amused expression.

She sucks hard on it. Letting the skin go with a pop, she eyes her hard work like a masterpiece sitting in a museum. Her blue eyes are cloudy as she gazes back at me.

“You fucked me sore, daddy. That's why no one is more fitting for you than I.” She purrs. Her lashes sweep open lazily. “I think we should do this sometime soon.”

She grabs her purse off the carpeted floor and wobbles her way out of my sight. Evident is the puddle of our pleasure on the carpet and I make a mental note to have it discarded later.

I move to my bedroom door once again but stop midway when Melanie's words come back to mind. My fingers hover over the doorknob with one question hanging over my head.

How do I explain that the wench's defiance was my fuel?