เข้าสู่ระบบHe laid me on the sheets, climbed over me, caged me with his arms. "Last chance to run," he said, voice low. "I need the money," I whispered, feeling so tiny in his arms."You're soaking," he muttered. "Virgin or not, your pussy wants this. "I moaned, looking away, couldn’t help it, "Eyes on me, sweetheart," he pushed his tip in slowly. "Fuck," he groaned. "So tight." He fucked me like he was claiming something. "Come for me," he whispered in my ears, moving faster. "Damien," I cried out his name as I came. "That's it," he growled. After a long minute he pulled out slowly. "One night," he said again, almost like a reminder... Weeks later, I walked through the quiet hall of my school. A massive portrait stared back at me, Damien Blackwood the Principal Benefactor and Owner of Columbia University. Same man who’d just taken my virginity for money. My stomach dropped. "Oh fuck... what have I done?"
ดูเพิ่มเติมThe days after the coffee meeting blurred into a strange rhythm of avoidance and quiet longing. I stayed at Sofia’s, burying myself in textbooks and pretending the ache in my chest was just exam stress. Sofia, bless her, tried to keep things light with terrible reality TV marathons and burnt toast attempts she called “gourmet breakfast.” But even she could see I was struggling.“You know,” she said one afternoon while we were on the couch, “for someone who asked for space, you check your phone like it owes you money.”I sighed and set the device down. “Habit.”“Uh-huh.” She raised an eyebrow. “And the fact that Damien hasn’t blown up your phone with messages or flowers is driving you crazier than if he had.”She wasn’t wrong. The silence from him felt… intentional. Respectful. Which only made me miss him more.Then the first gesture arrived.It was a small package delivered to Sofia’s door, a plain brown box with my name on it. Inside were three books, the latest releases in corporate
Damien was not a man who liked loose ends. He had spent the last forty-eight hours turning over every rock Reyes could find, chasing shadows, and piecing together the alliance between Lila and Alex. The proof was damning. Timestamps, burner accounts, meeting locations. They had planned the photos, the timing, even the library incident like a carefully orchestrated play. But something still felt off. Alex had been cut loose too cleanly. Lila didn’t strike him as the type to burn a useful tool without having another one lined up.He needed answers. Direct ones.So he went to the source.Alex Thorne’s apartment was in a sleek high-rise not far from campus, the kind of place that screamed “trying too hard to look successful.” Damien didn’t bother with pleasantries. He had security bypass the doorman and rode the elevator up alone, jaw tight, hands clenched at his sides. When Alex opened the door, the surprise on his face lasted only a second before shifting into that smug, calculated smir
Lila was not about to give up easily or a woman who accepted failure gracefully. She paced the living room like a caged predator. The crystal glass she had thrown earlier still lay in shards near the wall, a glittering reminder of her rage. Three weeks of careful planning. Three weeks of manipulating Alex like the eager little puppet he was. And for what? Elena had walked away, yes, but Damien was already trying to crawl back to her. Pathetic.Alex had failed her. Spectacularly.She picked up her phone and sent him one final message:Lila: We’re done. Don’t contact me again. You’re useless.Then she blocked him.No loose ends. No sentimental attachments. Lila had learned long ago that men were tools, useful until they weren’t. Alex had become a liability the moment his obsession with Elena clouded his judgment. She needed someone colder. Someone with a personal grudge. Someone who already hated Damien enough to enjoy watching him burn.Marcus Hale.The thought brought a slow, dangerou
Three days had turned into four, then five. The flowers had stopped coming after the third day. I kept my phone on do not disturb most of the time, but I still checked it obsessively. Sofia noticed, of course. She noticed everything.“You’re doing that thing again,” she said on the morning of day six, pointing her spoon at me over breakfast. “The sad phone stare. It’s becoming your signature look.”I set the phone down. “I’m not staring sadly. I’m… strategically monitoring.”“Uh-huh.” She took a bite of cereal. “And how’s that strategy working out for you?”I groaned and dropped my head onto the table. “Terribly. He texted again last night. Another coffee date to talk things out.’ I haven’t replied yet.”Sofia raised an eyebrow. “And why haven’t you?”“Because every time I think about seeing him, my stomach does this weird flip thing. Half excitement, half terror. It’s exhausting.”She pushed the cereal box toward me. “Eat. Then reply. You can’t hide in my apartment forever. My couch
The penthouse felt too quiet that afternoon. I was curled on the couch in the living room, legs tucked under me, scrolling through old lecture notes on my laptop. Damien was in his office down the hall, voice low on some conference call. I could hear the occasional sharp word drift out, but nothing
Everything went silent around me, I panicked, fidgeting with my fingers, I stood there for a full minute, then I suddenly remembered I wasn't going to see him again. “Why are you panicking, Elena?” I asked myself laughing weirdly. I breathed in and out, stood straight and walked to the office. I su
The money arrived in my account the next morning plus a little extra I hadn't expected. I stared at the notification on my phone for a full minute. I didn't waste time feeling guilty. I transferred the full amount to the hospital right there. After a few hours I went to the hospital, when I got to
Damien didn't ask. He just took my wrist and pulled me toward the bathroom like I was already his to move. Inside the bathroom was quite big, everything about it screamed money.“Strip,” he said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.I lifted my chin, trying to look like I wasn't shaking. “You






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