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“D-Damian.” His name is a garbled cry.
Keeping still, he gives me a small moment of mercy to adjust to the stretch. “Let me put my tongue in you. You’ll feel more pleasure.”
Manipulation. Again. It’s just a way of stealing more permissions from me.
My teeth chatter around my rejection of his wicked proposal. “N-no.”
Twisting his fingers from side to side, he increases my discomfort but somehow decreases the burn. Then he pumps. He takes me in the only virgin hole I have left in my body with fierce thrusts, the heel of his free hand slapping hard against my folds.
“I’m going to take your ass, Lina.”
I clench around him in fear, my muscles involuntarily drawing his digits deeper.
“But not today,” he continues. “One day, I’m going to sink my cock balls-deep into your tight little hole, and you’re going to love it.”
From the bottom of my almost-empty soul, I scrape together enough strength to keep my voice even. “Never.”
He chuckles cruelly, and the pace in my rear picks up with a grueling rhythm. Every thrust forces a groan from my throat. The grunts he beats out of me are raw and dirty. My fingers curl into the rug, my nails scraping over the woven thread. The rough wool is abrasive against my distended nipples through the thin fabric of my dress. I’m a slut on my knees uttering shameful sounds that give away my dirtiest secret. Despite the discomfort, despite the lingering pain, an ache grows in the empty spot between my legs. My need throbs fiercely, demanding little extra than the humiliating pummeling of my ass. A few flicks over my clit is all it takes. When he grants me the reprieve, I come with a wail. My hips give out, and my arms fall uselessly beside me. Sweating and shaking, I’m a quivering mess. Tremors run over me from head to toes. A shadow extends over me and hides me in blissful somberness. The electricity of another body bending over mine sends static sparks down my spine.
A warm breath fans my cheek. Full lips whisper in my ear. “If that’s how hard you come on my fingers, imagine what I’ll do to you with my cock.”
I lift my lashes to look at him. Our eyes connect. Knowledge and satisfaction blend in his at the foregone conclusion as he wipes his hand on a paper napkin. That’s what I am. A foregone conclusion. He knew from the day we met, before I’d even turned eighteen, he’d take me, have me, and reduce me to a woman on her knees. I can’t let him break me further. Struggling, I force myself back onto my knees. I ignore the swaying of my body and the places that hurt.
His palm smooths over my sore bottom, rubbing warmth into the ache. “You’ll carry these marks for a couple of days. Every time you feel them when you move, I want you think about what you promised me. Say it.”
“I…” My mouth is too dry. I swallow and try again. “I won’t put my life in danger.”
“That’s my girl.”
Gathering me into his arms, he stands. I’m too weak from the physical toll to fight him. There’s not a stitch of energy left in my body. He goes to the sofa and lowers us onto the plush leather. I let myself sink deeper into his warmth as he arranges my body until I’m cradled against his chest. He picks up a leather folder from the coffee table with one hand and caresses my hair with the other.
“Rest,” he says in his autocratic tone.
I hate him, but bite back the words. It’s as if my body recognizes the truth in his command. I’m more tired than I’ve been since sleeping without handcuffs. It doesn’t take long for me to doze off on his lap. He only wakes me when the shadows in the room are long and Zane knocks on the door to tell us dinner is ready.
The announcement of Dalton Diamonds becoming Hart Diamonds comes a day later. Damian doesn’t let me read about Harold’s downfall in the newspapers or see it on television. He tells me in detail what to expect and briefs me on what to say to the media, should someone manage to get through the gatekeepers holding those calls away from me. No comment.
I’m surprised Harold hasn’t called. I expect him to put more pressure on me to find the documents, but maybe he knows it’s too late, at least for saving his business. I continue to look for the evidence, but a search of Anne’s room produces nothing. The only room I have left is Zane’s.
Since our shopping spree, Damian has worked mostly from his study, but I haven’t seen much of him. The bat boxes are installed, and I’ve taken over the menu planning. The simple tasks bring a measure of relief from the daily stress of being my husband’s captive. I had plans to study art history after high school, but when Harold married me off to Jack shortly after I turned of legal age, all chances of studying flew through the window. I’ve never been granted any duty other than being a sex object, and it’s soothing to keep busy with actions instead of nothing but my thoughts.
