Chapter 19

LEILA

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He reached out a hand, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my breast before his thumb flicked across my nipple.

He looked into my eyes, his gaze intense and possessive, he lowered his head  until his tongue flicked out and touched my nipple, still maintaining direct eye contact.

His eyes finally closed as he savored the taste, a low groan escaping his lips.

My head fell back against the soft pillows, my hair scattering all over the bed, the feeling so incredibly hot that I could feel myself getting slick and wet down there.

He placed his hand on my other breast, his fingers fumbling slightly as he squeezed and kneaded, his attention still focused on my nipple.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a husky whisper. My eyes fluttered open, staring up at him as a moan escaped my lips, followed by another, and another, each one more breathy than the last. This felt so incredibly good, so intensely forbidden.

He trailed his hand down my stomach, his touch sending shivers down my spine, until his fingers reached the elastic of my g-string. He shifted it slightly, his fingers slipping underneath, rubbing against my already swollen and aching clit in slow, deliberate circles, all while he continued to suckle on my breast, his gaze locked on mine.

 His finger rubbed on my slickness, the friction building the pressure within me.

My moans increased in intensity, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He stood up abruptly, freeing me from his touch, and stared down at his wet finger, his next action being that he brought it to his mouth, licking up everything, his eyes closing in what looked like pure satisfaction.

A low moan escaped my own lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated want.

He pulled me closer, his hands rough as he aggressively removed my panties, tossing them aside. Then, he finally removed his shirt, revealing his toned chest, the muscles defined in the dim light.

He looked so good.

I wanted so badly to trace my fingers over his chest, to feel the smooth skin and the hard muscles underneath and to draw his face on it, or something equally ridiculous and impulsive.

He looked so damn good, the light dusting of hair on his chest, the way his muscles flexed with every movement, the sheer weight of his presence.

 He obviously worked out, or had a gym here in this ridiculous mansion.

He spread my legs, his gaze intense, and then placed his finger between my slick folds, digging it deep inside me. I tightened around him involuntarily, my body coiling to one side, a gasp escaping my lips.

“How do I make you feel?” he asked, his voice a low growl against my ear.

I moaned out loud, the sound raw and unrestrained, knowing how much this simple touch was making me feel, how close I was to the edge. I tried to hold my breath, but a scream was already building in my throat.

He continued, his finger moving rhythmically inside me, and I could feel myself drenching in my own wetness, the sensations overwhelming.

“I said,” he stopped, his gaze intense, and positioned me, his hard cock throbbing in front of my entrance.

He leaned down and licked up everything on his finger, his eyes never leaving mine. As he moved in slowly, stretching me, filling me completely, he repeated, his voice a low, demanding whisper, “How… do… I… make… you… feel?”

“Holy fuck… great!” I screamed, the word tearing from my throat in a more primal, sexy tone than I had ever heard from myself before.

 I yelped, my hands clenching the sheets.

 I tried to close my mouth, embarrassed by the uncontrolled sound.

He laughed, a genuine, almost comic and sweet laughter that surprised me, like he had just witnessed something endearing. Maybe I looked attractive in this vulnerable light.

“You should fucking see yourself,” he growled, his pace increasing, faster and faster and faster, the rhythm driving me wild.

I could tell he was getting close, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued to fumble with my breasts, his grip tightening.

“You’re so tight,” he exclaimed in a low, strained tone, something I caught easily in the heat of the moment.

“Because you fuck me right,” I blurted out, the words escaping from my lips and just as I said it, he held my ass up, thrusting deeper, and I whimpered, my body arching off the bed.

I knew that if anyone else was in this building, they would have obviously heard my voice, the screams tearing from my throat. And just then, he stared down at me, his eyes dark and focused, and he came, a hot, intense rush of pleasure.

It felt so incredibly nice, but at the same time, so wrong. So deeply, fundamentally wrong.

“Go clean up,” he said, his voice flat and dismissive as he collapsed back onto the bed, his breathing still ragged. I turned to look at him, a wave of hurt washing over me.

 How could he dismiss me so immediately after that?

He shut his eyes, placing his hands behind his head, his expression closed off.

I clumsily sat there for a moment, trying to decipher his reaction, wondering if he had even considered or liked what we had just shared, or if this was just the same way he looked at his other… sluts.

“Get out,” he repeated, his voice cold and final.

I shook, my body trembling slightly as I stood up, gathering the discarded clothes in my arms. I realized with a jolt that I was completely naked, and there was no time to put anything on.

Tears welled in my eyes as I ran back to my room, the shame and humiliation washing over me in a crushing wave.

I knew what I had been reduced to.

I opened my door and moved inside, but stopped midway, my bare foot catching on something just inside the threshold, preventing the door from closing properly.

A letter. And a single, black rose.

I picked it up, my heart pounding in my chest, and moved further into the room, my hands shaking. Cleaning the tears from my eyes, I unfolded the small piece of paper, my breath catching in my throat as I read the single, chilling sentence:

You should be careful with what you play with.

My hands went numb, and I dropped the clothes onto the bed, the soft thud echoing in the sudden silence of the room. I moved back, my mind racing, trying to make sense of this.

Careful and how is that?

How was that even possible? I scoffed, a nervous laugh escaping my lips, as I threw the rose and letter  into the bin, and reminder of what had just happened inside Damien’s room flashed through me.

The pleasure, the humiliation, the fear, my face squeezed in disgust.