Chapter 8: The Toy Room

The room he led me into was bigger than the last one, darker, with heavy black curtains blocking out the city lights. My eyes adjusted slowly, then I saw them. A padded wheel board mounted against one wall, leather cuffs dangling from the corners. A long table covered with vibrators in every size. My stomach flipped, half fear, half something hotter I didn't want to name.

He turned, arms folded, studying me like he was deciding which toy to start with. “Have you been with anyone else since me?” He asked, voice low.

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Did any other man touch you?”

I laughed, short and sharp, because the question was so ridiculous it almost hurt. “Why do you care? You said one night. You said you don't fuck the same woman twice.”

He stepped closer. “Answer the question “

“No,” I snapped. “No one else. Happy?”

Something flickered across his face, relief, maybe, or satisfaction. He didn’t smile, just nodded once.

I crossed my arms, trying to look braver than I felt. “Why am I here again, then? You didn't enjoy it last time?”

He tilted his head. “I took it easy on you. You were a virgin. I didn't want to break you the first night.”

The words landed like a slap. I felt my chest tighten. “Oh. Right. So it was just… pity sex.”

He watched me for a long second, then shrugged. “If that's what you need to tell yourself.”

I looked away, cheeks burning. Of course he didn't like me. I was just a convenient hole. I swallowed the sting and forced my voice out. “Let's get this over with.”

He studied me, then jerked his chin toward the bathroom door. “Freshen up first. Both of us.”

I didn't argue. We undressed in silence. He stepped under the shower first, water sliding down over his muscle and scars I hadn't noticed before. I followed, letting the hot water touch my shoulders, trying to wash away the embarrassment still clinging to my skin. 

He soaped my back without asking, large hands sliding down my spine, over my hips. I tensed when his fingers dipped between my cheeks, brushing my back entrance. Just a graze. I flinched anyway.

“Relax,” he murmured against my ear.

I didn't answer. My heart was already racing again.

When we stepped out he handed me a black lace lingerie. It looked expensive. 

I stared at it. “Seriously?”

“Put it on,” he said sharply. 

I hesitated. Then I put it on slowly. The crotchless part left nothing to the imagination. My nipples peaked against the thin fabric. I felt ridiculous and wet.

He stepped back, eyes dark. “Fuck,” he said quietly, almost to himself. 

He backed me against the wall, mouth crashing onto mine, harder than last time. I kissed back just as fiercely, hands fisting in his wet hair. He tasted like mint.

He broke the kiss, dragged his mouth down my throat, sucked on my skin above my collarbone. “On your knees,” he ordered. 

I dropped without thinking, knees hitting the carpet. His cock was already hard in front of my face. I wrapped my hand around the base, and felt him twitch. He groaned low in his throat. 

I licked the tip, then took him into my mouth. Slow at first. He was big, stretching my lips. I took him in fully. His hand slid into my hair, not pushing, just holding.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Just like that.”

I moaned around him, the vibration making him curse. I sucked harder, until he pulled me off. “Enough,” he growled. “I want your pussy now.” He lifted me like I weighed nothing, carried me to the padded bench, and spread my thighs wide.

He dropped to his knees between my legs. His mouth covered me, hot, wet tongue flat against my clit. I arched off the bench, crying out. He licked slow circles, then sucked hard until my thighs shook.

“Damien…” I moaned, not able to control myself.

He slid two fingers inside me, stroking that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. I came fast and hard, shuddering, thighs clamping around his head. He didn't stop until I was whimpering.

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Turn over.”

I scrambled onto my knees, ass up. He gripped my hips, lined himself up, and pushed in a slow, one long, deep thrust that made me gasp.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered. 

He started slow, measured strokes that let me feel every inch. Then faster and harder, skin slapping skin. He wrapped my hair around his fist, pulled my head back just enough to arch me deeper. 

“You like that?” He growled. “Like being fucked like this?”

“Yes… fuck… yes,” I said out of breath.

He slapped my ass, I moaned louder. He did it again, harder this time. The heat spread, mixing with pleasure until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. He reached around, found my clit, rubbed fast circles. “Come again. Come on my cock.” He commanded. 

“Damien,” I screamed, shattering. He fucked me through it, relentless, until he yanked my hair tighter, thrust deep, and came with a deep groan, filling me so full I felt it leak out.

We stayed like that a moment, panting, his cock still twitching inside me. He pulled out slowly, flipped me onto my back, climbed over me, and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

“Please,” I begged, not sure why.

He tightened his grip on my boobs, sucking hard, I arched, still trembling. 

When he was done sucking he laid beside me pulled me against his chest, arms locking around me, I could feel his heartbeat against my back. I thought about birth control pills, I would need them soon, but the thought slipped away when he tightened his hold, as if letting go might make me disappear. 

The next morning we showered again. He washed my hair, rinsed me gently, almost tenderly. Then his fingers circled my back entrance. 

I tensed. “Wait…”

He pressed just the tip of his finger inside. I felt this sharp stretch, burn. I hissed.

He stopped immediately, pulled back. Kissed my shoulder. “You'll get used to it, baby,” he murmured against my skin. “I'll put something in there every time. Fingers, vibrator and my cock, eventually.”

I froze. What does he mean by ‘every time.’

Was there going to be a next time?