Sinfully His: Owned by the Billionaire

His breath was fire against my skin.

Damian’s body pinned me to the mattress, his grip bruising, his movements relentless. His scent clouded my senses, flooding my lungs, drowning me in him. His lips crushed mine, a kiss that wasn’t gentle. It was raw, possessive, claiming every gasp, every moan, every last shred of resistance I had left.

I arched beneath him, my fingers digging into the taut muscles of his back, nails raking against his burning skin. His body was a furnace, hard and unyielding, pressing me deeper into the silk sheets.

I should have stopped this.

I should have pushed him away.

Instead, my thighs parted, instinct betraying logic, and his body settled between them like it belonged there.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I gasped against his mouth, though the way my body wrapped around him told a different story.

His answer was a growl—low, dangerous, edged with something primal. “You think I care?”

His hand slid up my thigh, pushing my dress higher until cool air licked at my feverish skin. Then, in one swift movement, he tore the fabric away, leaving me exposed beneath him.

I gasped, my breath hitching as his mouth trailed down my throat, teeth grazing, biting, soothing. A shudder wracked through me as his tongue flicked over the sensitive skin of my collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

His hands weren’t gentle. They were demanding, pulling, gripping, branding me with every touch. When his mouth closed over my breast, sucking, his tongue circling the hardened peak, a moan spilled from my lips, desperate and broken.

“Damian…”

My plea was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue thrusting into my mouth as his hips rocked against mine. The hard length of him pressed against my soaked panties, a ruthless reminder of what was coming.

Of what I was about to let happen.

A wicked smirk tugged at his lips as he felt my arousal. “You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice rough, filled with dark satisfaction.

Heat flamed through me as he slid his fingers beneath the damp fabric, teasing, parting me, finding the slick proof of my surrender.

My back arched as a broken moan escaped me.

“Say you want this,” he demanded, his fingers circling where I ached for him most. “Say it, or I stop now.”

I clenched my thighs around his wrist, desperate, needy. “I…”

A sharp gasp cut me off as two fingers sank into me, stretching, filling, curling against the spot that made pleasure crash over me like a tidal wave.

I had never felt so consumed. So undone.

My nails scraped down his back as he pumped into me, relentless and unforgiving. His free hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so he could watch me—watch my lips part, my body tremble, my mind shatter under his touch.

“You feel like heaven, Aria,” he murmured, voice strained as he pressed his forehead against mine. “But I need more.”

His hand withdrew, leaving me aching, empty. I barely had time to whimper a protest before he gripped my thighs, spreading me wide.

Then, with one hard thrust, he buried himself inside me.

A strangled cry tore from my throat as he filled me completely, stretching me to the point of delirium.

His curse was a ragged growl against my ear. “Fuck—you’re tight.”

—

Four Weeks Earlier

The Blackwood Mansion was a castle—cold, intimidating, and entirely out of my league.

I stood at the massive iron gates, my fingers clenched around the strap of my worn-out bag, staring up at the estate that could have belonged to royalty. Towers of black stone stretched into the sky, and the windows reflected nothing but storm clouds.

I didn’t belong here. I knew that. But my mother’s hospital bills didn’t care about belonging.

With a deep breath, I adjusted my uniform—a plain black dress, stiff with starch—and approached the grand oak doors. A woman in her mid-forties, her expression sharp and assessing, opened the door before I could knock.

“Aria Daniels?”

I nodded.

“Follow me.”

She led me through a corridor lined with art that probably cost more than my entire existence. Every surface gleamed—marble, crystal, gold accents. I’d never seen such wealth up close.

I was too busy staring when we reached a door at the end of the hall.

“The Blackwoods are very particular,” she continued. “Your job is to clean, stay out of sight, and…”

She never finished. Because at that moment, the door swung open.

And he stepped out.

Damian Blackwood.

The air in my lungs turned solid.

He was tall, devastatingly so, his frame carved from power and wealth. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms dusted with a hint of stubble. His dark hair was just slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it in frustration.

But it was his eyes that stole my breath.

Cold. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Green.

The housekeeper straightened immediately. “Mr. Blackwood.”

He barely acknowledged her. His gaze, piercing and unreadable, landed on me.

For a moment, the world stilled.

Then, something flickered in his expression—a slow, assessing glance, like he was trying to decide if I was worth his attention.

“Who’s this?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk but edged with something lethal.

“The new maid,” the housekeeper answered quickly. “Aria Daniels.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

Heat prickled along my spine, my fingers tightening around the hem of my dress. I should have looked away. I should have lowered my head, avoided the scrutiny of a man who could ruin me with a single command.

But I didn’t.

I held his gaze—a reckless, stupid decision.

For a second, his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk.

Amusement? Intrigue? I couldn’t tell.

Then, just as quickly, the moment was gone.

“Stay out of my way,” he said flatly before brushing past me, his scent lingering in the air.

The housekeeper exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath. “A word of advice,” she murmured. “Don’t get noticed by Damian Blackwood. It never ends well.”

Too late.

Because even as I followed her down the hall, pretending I hadn’t felt the weight of his stare burning into my back…

I knew I’d already been noticed.

And nothing about my life would ever be the same again.