~Lyra~ “Oh my God oh my God Damon I swear—fuck—I was supposed to stay mad I swear I was supposed to—why does your mouth feel like this—I think I just died and came back—wait—I’m gonna come—Damon you’re not even sorry are you?” He didn’t stop. Not for one second. His mouth stayed locked on my clit, sucking like he wanted my soul through it, and his fingers just kept pumping, harder, faster, hitting that spot that made me stutter every time he curled them. “Say it,” he demanded against me. “Say you forgive me.” “Fuck you!” I moaned, toes curling. “This is not forgiveness, this is brain damage, I don’t even know my name right now—” He pulled back just an inch, lips slick, beard wet, voice low enough to crack me open from the inside. “Say you’re mine.” I could barely see. The room was spinning. I was on the edge of something violent, something hot and loud and crawling up my spine like a tidal wave about to crush me. “I’m yours, Daddy,” I whispered, trembling all over. “I’
~Lyra~ Oh fuck. My entire body lit up like someone had poured gasoline in my bloodstream and flicked a match. My breath caught. My thighs pressed together on instinct, but it was useless. The second he touched me like that, it was over. I was already gone. Again. “From where, Daddy?” I asked, wide-eyed and teasing as I stepped back slowly, pulling the shirt higher up my thighs just enough for him to see that I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His eyes darkened instantly. Like night had dropped straight into his pupils. And God, that look. That look. That was the one that made me feel like prey. Like I was about to be devoured and not just metaphorically, but literally, with his mouth, his hands, his tongue, his everything. He moved toward me, slow and purposeful, and I backed up until the backs of my knees hit the bed, and I dropped down with a little squeak because holy shit, the way he was looking at me made my skin burn. I spread my legs just a little. Just
~Lyra~Kitten. That word that always made my knees wobble a little, that always made my body react before my brain could catch up. But this time? It didn’t melt me. It didn’t make me feel soft and owned and wanted. This time, it pissed me off. I crossed my arms, staring up at him like I could burn a hole straight through his skull with just my eyes. “Don’t do that,” I said, voice tight. “Don’t you dare pull that calm, sexy, I’m-in-control-of-everything tone with me right now, Damon. I’m not some dumb little girl you can just pat on the head and fuck back to sleep.” He blinked at me slowly, like I was some cute kitten having a tantrum. But I wasn’t cute right now. I was shaking. I was burning. I was one breath away from losing my goddamn mind. “Who were you talking to?” I demanded. “And don’t you fucking lie to me, Damon. I swear to God, I heard it. It was a woman’s voice. She was screaming at you. Loud. Angry. Possessive. Like she knew every inch of this house, every inch of
~Lyra~ As I was waiting for him to come out of the bathroom, I heard some noises. Not like normal noises either, not like the shower or brushing his teeth or clearing his throat. It was lower than that. Darker. There was this deep, gravelly tension in his voice and I couldn’t make out the words at first but something about it made my skin tighten. It was quiet, like he was trying not to be heard, and that already made me pause because Damon never whispers. Damon is always firm. Confident. Direct. But now his voice sounded weirdly… tense. Like he was walking on broken glass barefoot and trying not to make a sound. And then I heard her. A woman. Her voice was sharp. Loud. Angry. I mean not just mad, but the kind of mad that felt like it came from a place way deeper than jealousy. Like she was the type of woman who would slash tires or set fire to a dress just because someone else wore it better. I froze. I was still standing by the bed, one of his shirts barely hanging off m
~Damon~I didn’t know how to admit that somewhere between the first time I kissed Lyra’s trembling mouth and the last time I made her scream my name while her nails carved into my back—I had slipped. I had fallen. I had let something in that I never intended to feel again. And it wasn’t just lust. Camilla must’ve heard the truth in my silence, because her breath hitched through the phone. Then her voice returned, low and bitter and cracking beneath the weight of betrayal. “Wow,” she breathed, followed by a hollow laugh that chilled me straight to the bone. “You really are. You’ve fallen for her. My husband—the man who once told me he couldn’t live without me—is in love with a slut.” I closed my eyes. Her words sliced clean. “I bet she looks at you with those innocent eyes like you’re some kind of fucking hero,” she hissed, no longer pretending to be calm. “I bet she tells you she’s never felt like this before, that no one’s ever touched her like you do. I bet s
~Damon~ “Who is she?” she demanded, each word sharper than the last. “Tell me, Damon. Who the fuck are you fucking?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because my silence said more than a thousand confessions ever could. “Oh my God,” she hissed through the phone. “You are. You fucking are. I can hear it in your breath. You’re panting. You’re hiding. Is she there now? Is that why you’re whispering like a goddamn criminal? Is that why you won’t say her name?” I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bathroom wall, chest tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Her voice drilled into my skull, each word slicing deeper than the last, but I didn’t flinch. I deserved it. I knew that. I’d earned every bit of the storm I was about to walk into. But that didn’t mean I was ready to let her drag me back into the flames she once lit in my life. “Damon, fucking answer me,” she snapped, breath ragged now. “Who is she? What pathetic little bitch opened her legs for you whi