Chapter 4: The First Time

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 first.”

He laughed like I'd told a bad joke. “Cute. But I'm not the one getting paid tonight, sweetheart.”

I swallowed the embarrassment and pulled the black dress off. Standing there in just my plain underwear felt worse than being naked. He stepped forward, slowly pulling down my panties and unhooking my bra.

“You didn’t shave,” he observed. 

I shrugged, forcing nonchalance. “Didn't think I needed to, profile said sixties, figured he wouldn't notice.”

He raised a brow. “Disappointed?”

“You're not sixty,” I shot back. “You're… what, forty?”

“Thirty nine,” he corrected, voice dry. “Ancient by your standards, I'm sure.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to act like my heart wasn't hammering. “You still look better than most guys my age.”

He smirked. “Flattering me won't make this go faster.”

He turned on the shower and grabbed a small leather kit from the counter that contained razor, cream, and fresh towel.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the ledge beside the sink.

He knelt in front of me and pushed my knees apart with zero hesitation. “Open.”

I hesitated, closing my legs tightly. He raised an eyebrow. “You want the money or not?”

I opened my legs, hating how exposed I felt. He spread the cream over my mound, slow circles that made me bite my lip. Every pass of his thumb brushed too close to my clit.

“Didn't expect to be doing arts and crafts tonight,” I muttered, trying to sound sarcastic. 

“Neither did I,” he replied without looking up. “But here we are. You're making it interesting,”

He tilted my hips needing better access to shave the hair off, fingers grazing my clit. I sucked in a breath every time.

“You're jumpy,” he noted.

“I'm fine,” I lied, voice tight.

“Sure you are.” He blew air over the bare skin when he finished. I jerked so hard my back hit the mirror.

He chuckled. “Sensitive little thing.”

“Stop talking,” I snapped.

“Make me,” he smirked.

He stripped his clothes, no hesitation, no shame. His body was carved muscle, thick thighs, and a cock already half hard, I tried not to stare but I failed.

He opened the shower door, stepped in, then held out a hand. “Get in.”

I walked in, he pulled me under the spray, turning me so my back was against his chest. His hands were sliding over my shoulders to my breast, my stomach, when he reached between my legs, I moaned.

He pressed himself against my ass, very hard now. “You’re wet,” he murmured in my ear. “Not just from the water.”

“Shut up,” I whispered, but my hips rocked back anyway.

He turned me around, lifted one of my legs over his hip, and slid two fingers inside me without warning. I gasped. He pumped slowly, thumb circling my clit. Then he froze, his fingers stilled, brows furrowed.

“You're tight,” he said, almost to himself. “Too tight.”

I bit my lip, suddenly ashamed. “Yeah… about that…”

He pulled his fingers out, looked at the faint smear of blood-tinged wetness. His eyes snapped to mine. “You're a virgin.”

I nodded once, looking anywhere but at him.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “You put virgin on your profile?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I just… didn't think it mattered. Old man, one night. Figured he wouldn't care.”

Damien stared at me for a long second. Something flickered in his expression, surprise, maybe irritation, maybe something darker. “I was planning on fucking you hard,” he said flatly. “Rough. The way I usually do.”

My stomach dropped. “And now?”

He stepped closer, water streaming down his chest. “Now I'm thinking about how much it's going to hurt you if I do that. You're nineteen, barely legal and tiny.”

I tried to look tough. “I can handle it.”

He laughed. “Brave girl.”

He shut off the water, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me like I was breakable. Then he scooped me up and carried me back to the bedroom.

He 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. 

He studied my face, then he kissed me, slow and deep like he was tasting something he hadn’t expected to like.

When he pulled back, he spread my legs again. Putting his fingers gently now, stretching me, curling inside, finding that spot that made my back arch.

“You're soaking,” he muttered. “Virgin or not, your pussy wants this.”

I moaned, couldn't help it.

He lined himself up, his tip nudging my entrance. “Eyes on me.” 

“Tell me if it's too much.” He pushed in slow, the stretch burned. I dug my nails into his shoulders.

He stopped halfway, letting me adjust. “Breathe.”

I did, the pain eased into pressure. He went deeper, inch by inch, until he was completely inside me.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “So tight.”

He started moving, slowly at first, then faster, harder. Every thrust dragged against places that made me dizzy. I wrapped my legs around him, meeting his rhythm even though it still hurt a little. 

He fucked me like he was claiming something, deep, possessive, but careful enough. 

“Come for me,” he whispered in my ears, moving faster and hitting spots that made me go crazy.

“Damien,” I cried out his name as I came without meaning to.

“That's it,” he growled, moving even faster than before, so fast I thought I might pass out.

“Fuck,” he growled low, pulsing inside me as he filled me with his cum.

We stayed like that, breathing hard. After a long minute he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from me with dark satisfaction. 

“One night,” he said again, almost like a reminder. 

But the way he looked at me said something else entirely.