Completely Ruined

The lace didn’t survive another second.

With one deliberate, unhurried tug, Damon stripped away the last fragile barrier between us. He didn't toss it aside like garbage; he dropped the scrap of silk to the floor, his eyes never leaving mine.

Every drop of air left my lungs as his large, calloused hands slid under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly off my feet. Before I could grasp the sudden weightlessness, my back met the cold, polished surface of the dark marble console.

The shock of the freezing stone against my bare skin made me gasp, but the chill vanished instantly as Damon stepped between my parted knees.

He was pure, suffocating heat.

"Look at me, Robin," he commanded, his voice dropping into a rough, low growl that vibrated straight through my bones.

I forced my heavy eyelids open. His dark hair was disheveled, falling across his forehead, and his pupils had swallowed his irises entirely. There was no polished corporate heir left in front of me. This was a man stripped down to pure, unadulterated hunger—relentless, territorial, and completely focused on unraveling me.

"Ethan never took his time with you, did he?" he murmured, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of my hips, pinning me firmly to the marble. "He just took what he wanted and rolled over."

"Don't... don't talk about him," I pleaded, my chest heaving, my fingernails biting into the fabric of his shirt.

"I will talk about him," Damon rasped, his mouth descending to the curve of my throat. He didn't kiss gently; he used his teeth, grazing the sensitive line of my collarbone until a sharp, delicious shock bolted through my spine. "Because I want you to remember the difference. Every single second of tonight."

His hands moved.

Slowly, deliberately, his palms traced a burning path up the insides of my thighs. The contrast was maddening—the cool air of the high-rise living room on my skin, the freezing marble beneath my hips, and the scorching fire of his skin wherever he laid his hands.

When his fingers finally found the slick, aching heat of my center, a broken, strangled cry tore from my throat.

"Damon—"

"I've got you," he whispered against my jaw, his breath scalding hot. "Let go, Robin."

He didn't rush. He didn't hurry to satisfy himself the way Ethan always did, treating my body like a checklist item to rush through before falling asleep. Damon worked with a slow, torturous precision. His fingers moved with steady, unyielding pressure, learning every shudder, every hitch in my breath, driving the tension higher and higher until my entire body began to tremble violently.

I had spent two years believing I was cold. I had spent two agonizing years lying awake in Ethan’s bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, feeling broken and empty while he snored beside me. Ethan had made me believe that passion was an exaggeration, that intimacy was naturally dull and mechanical, that something inside me was fundamentally flawed.

Now, under Damon’s relentless touch, that lie turned to ash.

My hips arched off the marble of their own accord, rolling helplessly against his hand, chasing the unbearable friction. A deep, heavy coil tightened in the pit of my stomach, wound so tight it felt like it would snap me in two.

"Please," I sobbed, my hands knotting into the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate for friction, desperate for relief. "Please, Damon..."

"Not yet," he growled against my mouth, catching my lips in a bruising, possessive kiss that swallowed my cries. He tasted like rich liquor and pure adrenaline. His tongue swept deep, matching the rhythm of his hand, demanding every shred of my surrender.

He pushed me past every limit I thought I had. He teased, withdrew just enough to make me whimper with frustration, and then drove back in with firmer, heavier strokes that made my toes curl.

The coil snapped.

A blinding wave of sensation crashed over me with terrifying force. My back arched completely off the console, a sharp, ragged scream muffled against Damon’s shoulder as the first real orgasm of my life tore through my body.

It wasn't a soft flutter; it was a violent, convulsive tremor that seized every muscle from my chest to my toes. Wave after wave of liquid fire rippled through my core, contracting around his fingers with frantic, helpless pulses.

Damon didn't stop. He held me through every single spasm, his thumb maintaining that firm, ruthless pressure, riding out the aftershocks until my thighs shook uncontrollably and I was sobbing for breath against his neck.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with a dark, triumphant pride. He kissed the damp hair away from my forehead, his lips lingering against my burning temple. "So responsive. So completely undone."

I couldn't speak. I could barely keep my eyes open. My body felt heavy, completely melted, buzzing with an exhaustion so deep and delicious it was almost frightening.

I was never broken, the thought echoed through the haze of my mind, sharp and liberating. Ethan was just too selfish to care.

Damon’s hands slid from between my thighs up to my waist, but he didn't pull away. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, shrugging out of the fabric and tossing it to the floor. The hard, sculpted expanse of his chest pressed directly against my bare skin, his heavy heartbeat hammering in time with mine.

His dark eyes bore into mine, unblinking, heavy with a hunger that was far from satisfied.

"That was just the beginning, Robin," he whispered, his hands gripping my hips as he pulled me to the edge of the stone. "Now, you're going to take all of me."

When he moved into me, it wasn't clumsy or hesitant. It was a slow, deep, and overwhelming claim that stretched me to my absolute limit. A breathless gasp hitched in my throat as he filled the empty space, thick and unyielding, fitting inside me as if my body had been carved specifically for him.

He paused, letting my tight, quivering muscles adjust to his size, his forehead resting against mine as we breathed the same ragged air.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his voice strained with tight control. "You belong to me tonight."

Then, he began to move.

The rhythm was steady, deep, and devastating. Every stroke drove all thoughts of betrayal, shame, and caution straight out of my mind. There was no Ethan. There was no wedding. There was only the sound of our skin colliding, the bruising grip of Damon’s fingers on my hips, and the unstoppable heat that pulled me under again and again until I had nothing left to give.