LOGINDays passed like this. I texted Damon again and again, begging him to talk to me, to give me something, anything. His only reply was that he was busy. And then even that stopped. No calls. No texts. Nothing.It hurt— God, it hurt— but I told myself I understood. He was busy. He knew I wouldn’t run away, wouldn’t leave him. He knew I’d stay, no matter how sick or lonely I felt. Maybe he thought I was being dramatic. Maybe he thought I was fine. But I wasn’t.One evening, as I sat numbly watching a movie, my phone buzzed. Alex. “Shefali,” his voice was bright, urgent— no greeting, no pause. “I’m coming over in an hour. Get dressed. We’re going out.”I froze. The thought of leaving the house felt impossible. My body was heavy, my mind fogged. I was drained, drowsy, a mess in every way— physical, mental, emotional. The cage I lived in had stripped me of strength.But maybe… maybe stepping outside with Alex would help. Maybe it would remind me I was still alive.I swallowed the hesitation
PASTShefali’s POVAfter Damon left, I slept for two days straight. Not a nap. Not a restless doze. A full, deadweight sleep — the kind that comes after weeks of being devoured, drained, and denied rest. When I finally woke, my body ached in places I didn’t know could ache. My stomach growled like a beast. I was famished.I checked my phone to know which day it was and how long I had slept. I still had time. Time to heal from almost 21 days of Damon’s onslaught — his unrestrained hunger— his reckless passion that consumed me like a rabid animal in rut, leaving me exhausted and aching, yet bound to him by desire. All I had was the time before he returned— time to steady myself, to summon courage, to confess the truth I’d been hiding — time to finally come clean.Also, I couldn’t let him treat me like this anymore — like a caged bird, like a possession, like a sex doll he kept tucked away for his pleasure. For God’s sake, I was supposed to be his equal. His girlfriend. Not a hidden s
I started to dread waking up, knowing what the day would hold. I longed for the simple normalcy of a shared meal, a quiet movie, a conversation that wasn't punctuated by his hands or his lips, diverting me from my thoughts.The Damon I knew — the gentle, considerate lover — who valued my consent seemed to have vanished. This man was a stranger, a beautiful, powerful, utterly dominant stranger who saw me only as a source of endless gratification.By the third week, or was it the fourth week, I felt like a ghost in my own body. My muscles were perpetually sore, my voice barely a whisper, my eyes , when I dared to catch a glimpse in the mirror, were haunted. I was trapped, a willing prisoner in a gilded cage of endless sex. He still wouldn't let me talk.Any attempt to voice my growing desperation was met with a kiss that stole my breath, a hand that wandered to my most sensitive spots, or a lewd, teasing remark that left me blushing and flustered, my original point lost in the haze of r
PASTShefali’s POVAs I woke up, the scent of him hit me first — a primal, musky blend of fatigue and something else, something wilder, but he was nowhere to be seen. I took a breath in relief — relaxing a bit, still unable to wake up from the drowsiness. My body was so sore and exhausted. I had no clue what day it was or how many days had passed.Two and a half months....... Two and a half months of empty sheets, solitary dinners, and a yearning that had coiled tight in my belly. I had imagined our reunion a thousand times: soft kisses, whispered apologies for the distance, a slow, tender rediscovery of bodies that knew each other intimately.That was just wishful thinking....Because all we ever had after his return was unprecedented, raw, animalistic sex.But beneath the sweat and the bruises, I could feel something had shifted between us. He wasn’t the gentle, caring Damon I once adored. He didn’t care if I was sore, exhausted, or drowning under the weight of my submissions. He di
Damon sat on the living room couch like a king, one leg crossed over the other, his posture radiating authority. His expression was carved from stone, his eyes burning with fury. He looked every bit the predator, waiting for his prey to stumble closer.“Damon!” The name tore from my throat, a ragged gasp of relief and burgeoning fear. My heart, which had been a frantic drumbeat of anxiety since he left, now hammered with a different kind of terror.Tears streamed down my face before I realized it. He had come back earlier than promised, and the relief of seeing him overwhelmed me.I dropped everything, my bag, my purse, my phone, the flimsy veneer of my composure, and ran to him. My arms wrapped around his rigid form, pulling him into a desperate, clinging embrace. His expensive suit jacket felt like a shield, unyielding beneath my touch. My lips found his, a frantic seeking, a desperate plea. I kissed him like my life depended on it, pouring every ounce of my overwhelming relief, my
PASTShefali’s POV:The days that followed were a battlefield. Not outside, but inside the walls of Jacob’s hotel room, inside my own chest, inside the fragile bond between us. We fought, argued, and clashed like fire and storm. Jake kept insisting, almost pleading, that I should not trust Damon. His words were sharp, relentless, each one cutting deeper than the last.“Shifu, open your eyes!” Jacob snapped one evening, slamming his fist against the desk.“Everything points to him. Knight Corporation. The cameras, photos, and videos. Damon is the one who has access to all of this; he knows your every detail. He’s not protecting you — he’s controlling you. And if you don’t see it now, you’ll regret it later.”I shook my head violently, tears burning my eyes.“No, Jake. There’s no solid evidence against Dami, so you can’t just accuse him. You don’t know him. You don’t know Damon the way I do. He’s my man. He’s the love of my life. I trust him.”Jacob’s jaw tightened, his voice trembling







