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The breath Damian let out right then told me I was exactly right. With my finger still hooked on his pants, he pressed his midsection on me harder, pinning me to the wall and grinding on me once.
“Maybe,” he admitted, “I’m a sucker for the anticipation. Maybe I want to wait until all our business is done and then devour you as dessert.”
“Fine. Then I guess, until then, you’ll never know how wet I am.” I pulled my finger out of the waistband of his jeans and pushed him away from me. The man only took a step back, still smirking that blasted smirk. “I guess I’ll go hop in the shower.”
I gave Damian a smile and a flick of my hair before strutting out of the bedroom and going straight across the hall to the bathroom, where I heard the water running. I didn’t need any eyes on the back of my head to know Damian had followed me, a few paces behind.
My hand was seconds from curling around the knob when I felt Damian’s warmth on my shoulder. Before I knew what he was doing, he’d turned me around and pushed my back against the bathroom door, the lust in his black eyes clear.
“Fine,” Damian whispered as the same hand pushed my thighs open, “just a quick dip, and then you can go to your priest and have him fuck you—as long as you tell him who got you so worked up in the first place.”
Our stares were locked when his palm rubbed against my clit. A breathy moan escaped me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off him, not even when he pushed a finger inside my core.
“Goddamn it, you’re fucking wetter than I thought you’d be,” Damian spoke, though it sounded as if he was having trouble. “You’re making me lose willpower here, baby girl, because now that I know how wet you are, I want to dip my cock in you and feel this tight cunt wrapped around me.”
Fuck. I wanted that, too. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted more. If you would’ve asked me last week if I would be simping for Damian’s dick, I would’ve thought you were crazy. Then again, there were a lot of things last week me would never have been able to anticipate.
“You best get in that bathroom now,” he said, starting to pull his finger out of me. “Go fuck that priest—” He stopped when I grabbed his hand and held it in place, when I pushed that finger back in my core.
I held my hand over his, holding it steady while my body began to move. I ground my swollen clit against his palm, rocking slowly along his finger at the same time. All the while, I never broke eye contact with him. I couldn’t look away.
“Fuck me,” Damian whispered, shuddering as if I was riding his cock and not his hand.
I leaned my head back on the door as I increased my pace. With his finger in me and his palm against my clit—not to mention how turned on I was—it was practically effortless on my part to get myself to come.
Damian watched as I pleasured myself on his hand, not saying a word more as I kept chasing that orgasm. My clit throbbed, and within seconds, all the desire, all the anticipation, the heat and bliss that had been bottled up inside exploded.
I moaned out my pleasure, my body racked with trembling as the orgasm swept through me. I kept riding his hand, kept grinding on it, all throughout the high that came with it. I saw stars, the damned orgasm was so strong, and when it was over, I was completely out of breath, my legs goo.
Damian’s eyelids had fallen. He stared at me through a haze of cracking willpower. I let go of his hand once I was certain I’d remain steady on my feet, and he breathed hard even though he hadn’t done anything.
For once, he wasn’t smirking. He looked utterly serious as he pulled himself away from me, putting two feet of space between us. “You’re something else, that’s for sure.” I watched as he brought the finger that had been inside me to his nose, and he breathed me in deeply. “A shame I have to wash my hands before making breakfast, because you smell fucking fantastic, baby girl.”
He let his gaze eat me up one final time, and then he walked away, a slight limp in his step, like walking with that hard-on was one of the most difficult things ever.
I watched him go, my mind abuzz. Oh, Damian. To think when I’d first met him, I didn’t trust him. How things had changed.
I tore my eyes away from the now-empty hallway and slipped into the bathroom. Might as well get that shower in while Damian’s busy cooking breakfast.
Chapter Six – Zander
I drove straight to Miguel’s home after he texted me. Yeah, the asshole texted me to tell me that Giselle was missing and assumed either dead or, at the very least, tortured. He gave me no details beyond that, nothing to describe how he knew or even how she’d been kidnapped. I’d tried to call her after I found out, but the call went straight to voicemail.
And then I called Luca, figuring he’d know something about it. Luca didn’t answer either, which I supposed meant something was indeed going on, and whatever it was didn’t sit right with me.
So, fuck it. I didn’t care what Miguel was doing. After he’d tasked me with killing Giselle, I didn’t trust him not to have had a hand in this. If Miguel didn’t have any idea what was going on, I’d be shocked.
I barged into the Santos residence the moment I arrived, and I stormed through the house until I found Miguel… in the dining room, at the head of the table, having lunch with his very young, very pregnant fiancé, Gianna Melendez.
Gianna gasped when she saw me, dropping her salad fork into the bowl as she whipped her dark eyes in Miguel’s direction. Miguel, on the other hand, only glared at me.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded. “You can’t just text me that Giselle is missing and offer up no other details—”
Miguel laced his hands together before leaning his mouth against them. His pitch-black eyes stared daggers at me, and he curtly spoke, “Gianna, leave us.” Firm and terse, he was not a man to be argued with, least of all by the doe-eyed woman who was his fiancé. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d forced her into this.
Because, surely, Miguel Santos was an unlovable, unlikeable bastard that no woman in her right mind would ever want to marry, let alone have the baby of.
Gianna hesitated, though I could not say for what, but after a few moments, she got up, held onto her round belly, and walked away, giving Miguel and I some privacy. I did not know whether she was the type of woman who would eavesdrop, or if she would let it be. Either way, I didn’t give a shit.
