Dripping For The Enemy (Part 2)

My body is still trembling, his two broad fingers buried deep inside me, when those five words hit like ice water.

“Who the hell are you?”

He doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he curls his fingers slowly, pressing against that spot that makes my knees buckle. A fresh wave of pleasure rips through me even as panic claws at my chest.

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice dark and amused. “You’re so close, Elena. Don’t ruin it now.”

Hearing my full name again in that low, commanding tone sends another shameful throb through my core. I hate how much my body likes it.

I grab his wrist, trying to push his hand away, but he’s stronger. He pins my wrist against the wall with his free hand and keeps going, slow, deliberate movements that make soft sounds echo through the quiet suite.

“Stop,” I gasp, even as my hips betray me, rocking against his palm. “Tell me how you know my name.”

He leans in, his masked face inches from mine. Close enough that I catch the sharp line of his jaw… the faint curl of a knowing smirk.

“I know a lot more than your name,” he murmurs.

My breath hitches.

“I know you hate working at Harrington Shipping. I know your stepfather treats you like an inconvenience.” His voice dips, dark and certain. “And I know your ex was a pathetic cheat who never made you feel anything close to this.”

Each word lands like a slap. My mind spins. How? How the fuck does he know all of this?

His thumb circles my swollen clit faster, and I can’t hold back the moan that tears from my throat. My free hand clutches his shoulder, nails digging in.

“Please…” The word slips out again, broken.

“Please stop?” he asks, voice rough. Or please make you come all over my fingers?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, torn between fury and the building pressure low in my belly. My thighs shake. I’m so wet it’s embarrassing. Every stroke of his fingers pushes me closer, even as my brain screams danger.

His lips brush my ear. “You can fight me, baby. But your pussy is honest. It’s dripping for me.”

The crude words send heat flooding my face. I hate him. I want him. The contradiction makes my head spin.

With a frustrated cry, I come hard, clenching around his fingers, hips jerking uncontrollably as pleasure crashes through me. My legs nearly give out. He holds me up, milking every last pulse until I’m gasping, oversensitive and trembling.

Only then does he slowly withdraw his fingers. He brings them to his lips and licks them clean, eyes locked on mine behind the silver mask.

“Delicious,” he says simply.

I’m still trying to catch my breath, dress hiked up around my waist, panties shoved aside, when reality slams back in.

“Take off the mask,” I demand, voice hoarse. “Now.”

He studies me for a long moment. Then he reaches up and removes the silver mask.

The face underneath steals the air from my lungs.

Sharp cheekbones. Dark, piercing eyes. A mouth that looks like it was made for sin and secrets. He’s older than me—maybe early thirties—with the kind of handsome that feels almost cruel. But it’s not just his looks that freeze me.

I know him.

Not personally. But I’ve seen his photo in boardroom meetings. I’ve heard Richard curse his name more than once.

Damien Blackwood.

My stepfather’s biggest rival. The man who’s been systematically buying up shares and undercutting Harrington Shipping for the past year. The man Richard calls a ruthless bastard who’ll stop at nothing to destroy him.

My mouth goes dry.

“You,” I whisper. “You’re Damien Blackwood.”

He smiles, slow, dangerous and satisfied. “Took you longer than I expected.”

I shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. My mind races. This wasn’t random. None of it was. He targeted me. Watched me. Knew exactly who I was before he even approached.

“Why?” I snap, yanking my dress down with shaking hands. “Is this some sick game to get back at Richard? Fuck his stepdaughter to hurt him?”

Damien’s eyes darken. He steps closer, crowding me against the wall again. One hand comes up to grip my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Careful with that mouth,” he warns softly. “And no. This isn’t about hurting Richard. Not entirely.”

“Then what is it about?” My voice cracks. I can still feel the aftershocks of the orgasm he just forced out of me. My body is traitorously warm, still humming from his touch.

He brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “It’s about you. The way you’ve been walking around that company like a caged lioness, pretending you don’t want someone to finally put you on your knees. I’ve watched you for months, Elena. The fake smiles. The way you bite your tongue when Richard talks down to you. The way you touch yourself at night when you think no one can hear.”

My stomach drops. Heat and humiliation burn through me.

“You’ve been spying on me?” I whisper.

“Observing,” he corrects. “And wanting. Badly.”

I try to turn my face away, but his grip tightens.

“I’m not some pawn in your war with my stepfather,” I say, trying to sound strong. But my voice wavers.

“No,” he agrees. “You’re not a pawn. You’re the prize I’ve decided to claim.” His other hand slides down to grip my hip possessively. “And tonight, you’re going to admit how much you need exactly what I can give you.”

I laugh bitterly, even as fresh heat pools between my legs. “You’re insane if you think I’m letting you touch me again.”

His smile returns, sharper this time. “You already begged once. You’ll beg again. Because deep down, you’re tired of pretending to be in control. You want someone who can break you open and put you back together. Someone who doesn’t ask permission.”

He leans in until his lips hover just above mine. “And we both know I’m that man.”

My heart hammers wildly. Part of me wants to slap him. Another part, the dark, secret part I’ve buried for years, wants him to prove it.

Just as I am about to decide which one wins, a sharp knock sounds on the suite door.

“Mr. Blackwood?” a male voice calls from outside. “The car is ready. We have a situation with the Harrington acquisition.”

Damien’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t move away from me.

“Tell them I’ll be there in five,” he calls back, never breaking eye contact with me.

He brushes a strand of hair from my face, surprisingly gentle after everything.

“This isn’t over, Elena,” he says quietly. “Far from it. I’ll give you tonight to run back to your safe little cage. But…”

He leans down and kisses me once, claiming a promise wrapped in heat.

“You will come to me willingly. Or I’ll come for you.”

He steps back, adjusts his jacket like he didn’t just finger me against the wall, and heads for the door.

Just before he opens it, he glances back at me, eyes blazing.

“One more thing. If you tell Richard about tonight, I’ll make sure he knows exactly how sweetly his precious stepdaughter begged for my fingers.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

I’m left standing there, dress wrinkled, thighs slick, heart racing with a toxic mix of fear, anger, and raw, aching want.

Damien Blackwood knows my secrets.

He’s dangerous.

He’s the enemy.

And the worst part?

I already crave whatever he plans to do to me next.