Chapter 13.

Laura's POV.

Brenda slammed the huge door with all her might and stormed upstairs, her bare, wet feet slapping angrily against the white oak floor.

"Miss Brenda, do you need…" one of the house maids started, stepping out of the hallway pantry.

Brenda didn't even spare a look at her, cutting her off with a sharp swipe of her hand as she marched past. I followed right behind her, giving the confused staff an apologetic glance before hurrying up the steps.

The moment we hit her bedroom, Brenda threw herself face-down on her mattress.

"I am so done with him, Laura!" her muffled voice screamed into the pillows. "I am completely, entirely done with my stupid crush on Richard. He is nothing to me now!"

He was never a thing to you anyways, I couldn't help but think inside my head.

But, I hugged her, she flipped over, pulling the heavy pink duvet up to her chin, her face still bright red with lingering embarrassment. Within minutes, exhaustion won, and her breathing slowed, she fell into a deep, angry sleep.

Seeing her finally quiet, I let out a shaky breath and climbed into the adjoining twin bed, pulling the sheets up to my chest. I switched off the lights.

Then I heard a ping sound from my phone, who was that.

The bright glare of my phone illuminated the dark room. My heart stopped.

Damian, “My study now, Laura. You have two minutes to get here”.

I rolled my eyes at the tone of the message, but my heart fluttered in anticipation, and I could feel myself get wet.

I laid on the bed, my fingers slowly moving to my pussy, and I rubbed on it to pass time. I would like to see him angry.

I stood up and walked out of the room door after confirming that Brenda was asleep.

I walked towards his study room, I have never been there, I was careful of being seen going to his study that late. And, I have never been there, I just knew where it was.

I stood in front of the heavy mahogany doors of his study, my heart beginning to race, I wondered what he was doing. I hesitated, not knowing what to expect.

I pushed open the door, and walked in, the door clicked shut behind me, instantly locking out the rest of the world.

The room was dimly lit, smelling of expensive leather, rich amber, and a lingering scent of him.

It felt cold. Intimidating.

Damian was sitting behind his huge oak desk.

A sleek laptop was open in front of him, casting a sharp glow across his flawless, rigid jawline. His long fingers tapped idly against the keyboard. He didn't even look up when I walked in.

He was pretending to be working. But the rigid set of his shoulders told me everything. He was furious. I could swear I was feeling good about it.

I stood near the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. I had thrown on a simple, oversized night flier over my bikini. my damp skin, but under his gaze I felt completely naked.

He was now looking at me with his usual piercing gaze.

"You're late, Laura," he murmured, his voice a low, lethal baritone that vibrated to my ears.

He looked down back at his laptop, still tapping on it as if busy.

"I had difficulty finding the study,” which was half the truth.

"I don't care about that," he interrupted smoothly, finally closing the laptop with a soft, sharp click.

I brazed myself for what to come next

“You have been rebellious lately and I will show you what is done to rebellious little girls.”

I walked closer to him, when he beckoned to me with his finger, not caring about his threat. His threat made me feel horny and I could feel my juices on my pussy lips.

He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. His dark, possessive eyes locked onto mine, scanning every inch of my flushed face.

"You smell like chlorine," he noted, his gaze darkening. "And a strange skin care. Did you have fun at the pool party, little girl?"

When he asked about the party, the room suddenly felt suffocating. I took a hesitant step closer to the desk, the distance between us feeling like miles. The study was larger than I imagined.

I was tempted to look around, but I didn't due to the looks he was giving me.

I stood in front of his table, gazing down at him.

His eyes seemed to see through my robe, and saw the bikini underneath, I watched the grey of his eyes darken.

“You wore this out?” He asked me, standing up abruptly, and towering over me. I stepped back at his overbearing aura and his towering height.

“Yes? It was just a pool party. It doesn't matter.” I said in a challenging tone, trying to rile him up and I could see I was successful when he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, as if to tell me I was ridiculous.

"I told you that you belong to me. Yet you dress in a tiny string bikini, surrounded by boys who don't deserve to breathe the same air as you."

He walked around the edge of the desk, his movements slow and predatory until he was standing right in front of me. The heat radiating off his body was overwhelming.

"Come here," he commanded softly.

Before I could even take a breath, his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

His other hand held my waist, while the other cupped my breast, squeezing it firmly. My nipples turned sensitive to his touch.

In a swift movement, he lifted me effortlessly onto the cold, polished surface of his mahogany desk, scattering a neat pile of his important paperwork to the floor.