Dangerous Carving

Chapter 6: Dangerous Cravings

The next morning, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damien’s Tribeca penthouse, bathing the massive bed in golden light. I lay tangled in the silk sheets, my body deliciously sore in the best possible way. Every inch of me still tingled from the way Damien had taken me again and again throughout the night his hands gripping my hips, his deep voice growling “good girl” against my ear as he drove into me until I screamed.

I stretched slowly, feeling the pleasant ache between my thighs. The emerald dress from last night lay discarded on the floor like a forgotten promise. Beside me, the bed was empty, but I could hear the low murmur of Damien’s voice coming from the living area. He was already on a business call, shirtless, wearing only black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp V of his muscles.

I bit my lip, heat pooling low in my belly just from watching him. How had I gone from the careful, good-girl Kira Holt to this naked in a billionaire’s bed, craving more of the man my father hated most?

Damien ended the call and turned, his steel-gray eyes immediately finding me. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips as he walked back to the bed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice still rough from sleep and sex. “All soft and marked up for Daddy. You look fucking perfect.”

He climbed onto the bed, crawling over me until his body caged mine. His hand slid up my thigh, pushing the sheet away to expose my bare skin. When his fingers brushed over the faint bruises he’d left on my hips last night, I shivered.

“Still sore?” he asked, dipping his head to kiss the side of my neck.

“A little,” I admitted, my breath catching as his stubble scraped deliciously against my skin.

“Good.” He nipped at my collarbone. “I want you to feel me every time you move today. Every step you take at that gallery, I want you remembering who fucked you so deep you couldn’t think straight.”

His hand moved between my legs, fingers stroking my already slick folds. I moaned softly, hips lifting toward his touch.

“Damien…”

“Wrong name, little one,” he growled, sliding two thick fingers inside me without warning.

“Daddy,” I gasped, gripping his shoulders. “Please…”

He pumped slowly, curling his fingers just right while his thumb circled my clit. “That’s my sweet girl. So wet for me already. Did you dream about Daddy’s cock last night?”

I nodded frantically, unable to form proper words as pleasure built fast under his skilled touch. He kissed me deeply, swallowing my moans, then pulled back just enough to watch my face.

“I have meetings all day,” he said, voice low and commanding. “But I want you thinking about me. No panties today. Send me a picture when you’re at work something pretty to remind me what’s waiting for me tonight.”

Before I could respond, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to my lips. I obediently sucked them clean, tasting myself on his skin. His eyes darkened with fresh hunger.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Now go shower. I’ll have breakfast ready, then my driver will take you to the gallery.”

An hour later, I walked into the gallery wearing a modest cream blouse and pencil skirt professional on the outside, but completely bare underneath just like he’d ordered. Every step made me acutely aware of how exposed I was. The cool air brushing against my slick pussy kept me in a constant state of low-level arousal.

My phone buzzed during lunch.

Damien: Are you being good for me, little one?

I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then slipped into the staff bathroom. Heart racing, I lifted my skirt, took a quick photo of my bare, glistening pussy, and sent it to him.

His reply came instantly.

Damien: Fuck. Such a pretty little cunt. Keep it wet for Daddy. I’ll reward you tonight.

The rest of the day dragged in delicious torture. I could barely concentrate on cataloging new pieces. Every time I shifted in my chair, I felt the absence of panties and remembered his fingers, his cock, his voice calling me his good girl.

By the time I left the gallery, I was throbbing with need.

The black town car was waiting for me again. This time it took me straight to Damien’s private gym inside his building. When I stepped inside, he was there shirtless, sweat glistening on his muscular chest and abs as he finished a set of pull-ups. The moment he saw me, he dropped down and stalked toward me like a predator.

“Lock the door,” he ordered.

I did, my hands shaking with anticipation.

He didn’t waste time. In seconds he had me backed against the mirrored wall, skirt shoved up around my waist, his mouth crashing down on mine in a hungry kiss. His hand dove between my legs, fingers sliding easily through my wetness.

“So fucking soaked,” he groaned against my lips. “You’ve been aching for Daddy all day, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I whimpered. “Please… I need you.”

He spun me around so I faced the mirror, my hands braced against the cool glass. I watched our reflection as he freed his thick, hard cock and rubbed the head against my entrance.

“Watch,” he commanded, voice rough. “Watch how pretty you look when Daddy fucks you.”

Then he thrust into me in one powerful stroke, burying himself deep. I cried out, the stretch both intense and perfect. He didn’t go slow this time he fucked me hard and fast, one hand gripping my hip, the other reaching around to rub my clit.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, pounding into me. “Look how well you take my cock. Such a good little slut for Daddy.”

The dirty words combined with the sight of us in the mirror my face flushed with pleasure, his powerful body dominating mine pushed me over the edge fast. I came hard, walls clenching around him as I moaned his name mixed with “Daddy.”

Damien followed moments later, burying himself deep with a guttural groan as he filled me with hot pulses of his release.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard. He pressed soft kisses to my shoulder, his hand gently stroking my waist now that the raw hunger had been satisfied.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmured against my skin, “I’m taking you to dinner. Somewhere nice. Then back here so I can spend hours tasting every inch of you again.”

I leaned back against his chest, still trembling. “What if someone sees us?”

“Then they’ll know you’re mine.” His arms tightened possessively around me. “And I don’t share what’s mine, Kira.”

As we stood there, his cum slowly dripping down my thigh, I realized how deep I was falling. The pleasure was addictive, but so was the way he made me feel desired, protected, completely claimed.

Dangerous and forbidden.

And I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop.