Chapter 115: Chapter 114: "Please, Damien. More."
She moved forward, positioning herself over his thighs, acutely aware of how wet she was, how empty, how desperately she needed him to touch her.
His hands came up, gripped her hips, pulled her down onto his lap. She could feel the hard length of him through his slacks, pressed against her bare core.
"You feel that?" he asked, his voice rough. "Feel how hard you make me? I’ve been like this all fucking day. In meetings, on calls, trying to work while thinking about doing this."
He ground up against her, and she gasped at the friction.
"Please....."
"Please what?"
"Please touch me. I need...."
"I know what you need." His hands slid up her sides, cupped her breasts through the lace. "You need to be reminded. Need to be claimed. Need to understand in your bones that this body belongs to me."
He squeezed, and she moaned, her head falling back.
"Look at me," he commanded. "I want to see your eyes when I touch you."
She forced her gaze back to his, saw the hunger there, the possession, the dark need that matched her own.
His fingers found the front clasp of her bra, flicked it open. The fabric fell away, exposing her breasts to his gaze.
"Perfect," he breathed. "Absolutely fucking perfect."
His hands cupped her, thumbs brushing over her nipples, and she whimpered at the sensation.
"So sensitive. So responsive." He pinched lightly, and electricity shot straight to her core. "I wonder...."
He leaned forward, took her right nipple into his mouth.
The sensation was overwhelming. His tongue swirled, his teeth scraped lightly, and Aria couldn’t stop the cry that escaped.
"That’s it," he murmured against her skin. "Let me hear you. No one can hear us now. Just me."
His mouth moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention while his hand slid between her thighs.
"So wet already," he said, his fingers sliding through her folds. "I’ve barely touched you and you’re dripping down my hand."
"Please, Damien. Please."
"Please what? Use your words."
"Please make me come. I need....I need you inside me."
"Inside you?" One finger circled her entrance, teasing. "Here?"
"Yes! Please...."
He slid one finger inside, and her whole body clenched around the intrusion.
"Fuck, you’re tight," he groaned. "Even one finger and you’re gripping me like a vice."
His mouth returned to her breast, sucking hard while his finger began moving, slow and deliberate. The dual sensation....his mouth on her nipple, his finger inside her.....was almost too much.
"More," she begged. "Please, Damien. More."
He added a second finger, stretching her, and began thrusting with purpose. His thumb found her clit, pressing in firm circles while his fingers curled inside her, finding that spot that made her see stars.
"That’s it," he murmured between kisses to her breasts. "Ride my hand. Show me how desperate you are."
She began moving, grinding down on his fingers, chasing the pleasure he was building inside her. His mouth moved between her breasts, sucking, biting, leaving marks she’d see tomorrow and remember.
"You’re close," he said, feeling her walls beginning to flutter. "I can feel it. You’re going to come all over my fingers again, aren’t you?"
"Yes! Yes, Damien, please....."
"Not yet." His fingers stilled, and she whimpered in frustration. "Look at me first. I want to see your eyes when you fall apart."
She forced her gaze to his, saw the raw hunger there, the possession, the claim.
"Who do you belong to?" he asked, his fingers resuming their movement.
"You. I belong to you."
"Say my name."
"Damien. I belong to Damien."
"Good girl. Now come for me."
His thumb pressed hard against her clit, his fingers curled inside her, and his mouth latched onto her nipple, sucking hard.
The combination shattered her.
Her orgasm crashed through her like a tsunami, her entire body seizing, walls clamping down on his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her. She cried out his name, not caring about volume, not caring about anything except the overwhelming sensation of coming apart in his arms.
He worked her through it, his fingers gentling but not stopping, prolonging the orgasm until she was shaking, gasping, barely able to stay upright.
"Beautiful," he murmured, finally stilling his hand. "So fucking beautiful when you come for me."
He withdrew his fingers slowly, and she whimpered at the loss.
Then he brought his fingers to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he licked them clean.
"Delicious," he said, his eyes dark. "I could taste you for hours."
She was boneless, destroyed, barely able to form words.
He shifted her gently, standing with her still in his arms, and carried her to the leather sofa against the wall. He laid her down carefully, then sat beside her, stroking her hair.
"You did so well," he murmured. "Took everything I gave you. I’m proud of you."
The praise made warmth bloom in her chest despite her exhaustion.
"Damien..."
"Shh. Rest for a moment. Then we’ll get you cleaned up and dressed."
She closed her eyes, letting herself float in the aftermath, in the safety of his presence, in the bone-deep satisfaction of submission.
After a few minutes, he helped her sit up, retrieved her clothes, dressed her with gentle hands that were so different from the dominant ones that had claimed her moments before.
"Come on," he said once she was presentable again. "I’ll drive you home."
"I can take the train...."
"I’m driving you. Not negotiable." His hand cupped her face. "You’re mine to protect, Aria. That includes making sure you get home safely."
She nodded, too wrung out to argue.
As they rode the elevator down to the parking garage, his hand at the small of her back, proprietary and possessive, Aria realized something.
She’d survive this. Survive the punishment, the claiming, the slow rebuilding of trust.
Because as much as it hurt sometimes, as much as it pushed her boundaries and tested her limits....
This was where she belonged.
With him.
Always.
