His contract, my chains

Alina's POV

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The car door slammed shut, and I was still laughing at nothing.

"I don't even know why you're here," I slurred, pressing my forehead against the cool glass of the window. "Like, seriously. Do you just... wander around looking for drunk women to harass?"

"I was having a drink." Damien's voice was flat, controlled, like he was trying very hard to stay that way. "You were the one who fell into me."

"I did not fall." I muttered between hiccup.

"You tripped over your own feet and grabbed my shirt to keep from face-planting."

"I was... testing the structural integrity of your suit." I waved a hand vaguely. "Very well made, by the way. Expensive. Probably costs more than my rent."

"Probably," he agreed dryly also very drunk.

I turned to look at him. Even in the dim light of the car, even drunk, he was infuriatingly handsome. Sharp jaw, dark hair, eyes that seemed to see right through me. The kind of man who'd never tripped over anything in his life.

"You know I hate you, right?" I said.

"I know."

"I really, really hate you. You're arrogant. You're cold. You've been trying to destroy my father's company for years."

"Alina." His voice was soft. Almost gentle. "You're drunk."

"I'm not that drunk." I leaned closer. Too close. I could smell his cologne, woodsy and expensive. "I know exactly who you are, Damien Black. You're the man who's been trying to steal everything my father built. You're the man who smiles at board meetings and then stabs people in the back."

"And yet you're in my car."

"Because you offered." I poked his chest. "And I'm too drunk to say no to a free ride home." I replied laughing.

He caught my hand. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, warm and strong. "Careful."

"Or what?" I challenged.

His eyes darkened. Something shifted in the air between us, something electric and dangerous.

"Alina," he said again. This time it was a warning.

I didn't care.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

The moment my lips touched his, I felt him go rigid. His hands shot up, gripping my shoulders, and he pushed me back with enough force to make me gasp.

"Alina." His voice was ice. "You're drunk."

"So are you."

"Not drunk enough for this."

He tried to push me away again, but I was already moving back toward him, my hands sliding up his chest, teasing his nipples,feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. He caught my wrists, holding them still.

"Stop." His jaw was tight. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing." I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. "I've wanted this for months. Every time I saw you in the magazine. Every time you looked at me like I was beneath you. Every time I hated you and hated myself for noticing how good you looked in that suit."

His grip on my wrists tightened. His breathing had changed now shallow, uneven.

"You're going to regret this in the morning," he said.

"Then let me regret it." I twisted my wrists free. My hands found his belt, fumbling with the buckle. He caught my hands again, pushing them away.

"This is a mistake."

"Then it's my mistake to make."

I kissed his neck. His breath hitched. I felt his pulse racing beneath my lips, felt the tension in his shoulders as he fought himself.

"Alina…"

"Stop thinking," I murmured against his skin. "For once in your life, stop thinking and just feel."

My hands found his chest, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. It fell to the floor of the car. His shirt was next, my fingers working the buttons with desperate haste.

"I said stop!"

He caught my hands again, but this time he didn't push them away. He just held them there, his eyes dark and conflicted.

"If we do this," he said, his voice low and rough, "there's no going back. You know that, right? I'm not the kind of man who…"

"I don't care." I kissed him again, softer this time. "I don't care about tomorrow. I don't care about the company. I don't care about any of it. I just want you. Right now. Tonight."

His hands moved to my waist. He pulled me closer, and for a moment, I thought he was going to give in. Then he pushed me back again.

"You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm thinking more clearly than I have in months." I straddled him, my knees on either side of his thighs. "And I'm tired of thinking. I'm tired of being strong. I'm tired of carrying everything on my own. Just.." I pressed my forehead to his. "just let me forget for one night. Please."

Something in his eyes shifted. The ice cracked. And then his hands were in my hair, pulling me closer, and he was kissing me like he'd wanted to devour me from the moment he saw me.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't hesitant. It was hot and demanding, his tongue into my mouth, tasting me like he was claiming me. His hands roamed my body, gripping my hips, pulling me harder against him. I could feel him through his pants, hard and ready, and I moaned against his lips.

"You have no idea," he growled against my mouth, "how long I've wanted to do this."

"Then stop talking," I breathed. "And do it."

His hand slid up my thigh, pushing the hem of my dress higher. His fingers brushed against the lace of my panties, and I gasped.

"Fuck, Alina," he muttered. "You're so wet for me already."

"Only for you," I whispered. "Only ever for you."

His fingers found my clit through the lace, and I bucked against his hand. He circled me slowly, deliberately, driving me insane.

"Please," I begged. "Damien, please!"

"Please what?" He whispered slowly.

"Please touch me. I need..I need you." I yelled desperately forgetting that there was a driver.

He pushed my panties aside. His finger slid inside me, and I cried out. He added a second finger, stretching me, preparing me. His thumb circled my clit, and I was already trembling, already so close.

"That's it," he said, his voice a dark command. "I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make."

I shattered around his fingers, my body convulsing, my cries filling the car. He watched me come undone, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his fingers still moving inside me, prolonging every last second.

"We're here," the driver announced flatly.

Damien's hand withdrew. I nearly cried out at the loss.

"Later," he said, his voice rough. "I promise."

He helped me out of the car. My legs were shaking. I fumbled with my keys, dropped them twice. Damien picked them up, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

We barely made it inside before I was on him again.

I slammed the door shut and pushed him against it. My hands were all over him, unbuttoning his shirt, running my fingers through his chest hair, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath my palms.

"Fuck, Alina," he groaned. "Slow down."

"I don't want slow." I kissed his chest, his neck, his jaw. "I want to forget. I want you to make me forget."

He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were dark, intense, burning.

"You're sure?" he asked.

I answered by kissing him again, harder than before.

Then I stepped back.

I reached for the zipper on my dress and pulled it down. The fabric fell away, pooling at my feet. I stood before him in nothing but lace and heels. My body was on fire, my skin flushed, my nipples pebbled and aching for his touch.

His breath caught.

For a long moment, he just stared at me. His eyes traveled the length of my body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. His gaze was hungry, devouring, like he wanted to consume me whole.

"You're beautiful," he said, his voice a low rasp.

"Show me," I said. "Show me how much you want me."

He closed the distance between us in one step. His hands cupped my face, tilting it up, and his mouth crashed against mine. But this kiss was different. Slower. Deeper. Like he was memorizing the taste of me. His tongue circling in mine

His hands moved down my body, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my hips, the inside of my thigh. I arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"Please," I breathed. "Damien."

He kissed a path down my neck, his teeth grazing my collarbone. I moaned, my head falling back. His mouth found the swell of my breast, and I gasped.

"More," I begged. "I need.."