Dripping For The Enemy (Part 3)

The next morning, my body still remembers every second of last night.

I wake up aching in the best and worst ways. My thighs are sore, my nipples still sensitive from how he pinched and teased them. Every time I move, I feel the ghost of Damien’s fingers inside me, the low growl of his voice saying my full name right as I came.

I should be furious. I should be terrified. Instead, I’ve spent half the night touching myself thinking about the masked stranger who turned out to be my stepfather’s enemy. The man who watched me for months. The man who made me beg.

I hate how much I want him.

By the time I drag myself downstairs for breakfast, the mansion feels colder than usual. Richard is at the head of the table, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. My mother sits beside him like a pretty ornament, barely looking at me.

Richard doesn’t even glance up when I sit down. “You disappeared from the gala last night. Care to explain?”

My stomach tightens. “Needed some air.”

He finally looks at me, eyes narrow. “Air doesn’t wrinkle your dress and smudge your makeup. You embarrassed me in front of important people, Elena. Again.”

The words sting more than they should. I’ve heard variations of this my whole life since he married my mom. Never good enough. Always a liability.

Mom clears her throat softly. “Richard, maybe she just—”

“Stay out of it,” he cuts her off without looking at her. Then he turns back to me. “You’re twenty-four. You live in my house, you work in my company because I allow it. The least you can do is not act like a cheap slut at public events.”

The word hits like a slap. Cheap slut.

Something inside me cracks.

I stare at him, heart pounding. This man has controlled every part of my life for nine years. He never loved me, never even liked me. He just tolerates me because of my mother. And she lets him.

I think about Damien’s hands on me. The way he didn’t ask — he took. The way he made me feel alive instead of small.

Richard keeps talking, voice rising. “If you want to keep living here and collecting a paycheck, you’ll start behaving like a Harrington. No more disappearing. No more dressing like a whore. And stay the hell away from anyone connected to Blackwood. I heard he was at the gala last night. If I find out you even spoke to anyone near him—”

That’s it.

The final push.

I stand up so fast my chair scrapes loudly against the marble floor. Both of them stare at me.

“Fuck this,” I say clearly. My voice doesn’t shake. “Fuck your rules. Fuck your name. And fuck you, Richard.”

My mother gasps. “Elena!”

I look at her, really look at her. The woman who chose comfort and silence over protecting me for years. “You’ve never once stood up for me. I’m done.”

Richard’s face turns red with anger. “You ungrateful little—”

“I quit,” I cut him off. “The job. The house. All of it. I’ll pack my things today.”

I walk out before he can respond, adrenaline rushing through my veins. My hands are shaking as I head upstairs, but for the first time in years, I feel free.

By afternoon, I’ve thrown the essentials into two suitcases. I’m standing in my now-half-empty room when my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

My breath catches. Damien.

Unknown: I’m outside. Black car at the gate. Get in.

I stare at the screen for a long moment. My family is probably downstairs plotting how to punish me. Richard will cut me off completely. I have almost nothing saved.

And yet… all I can think about is how Damien’s fingers felt. How his voice sounded when he told me I would beg again.

I want that. I want to stop pretending I’m fine being controlled by people who don’t even see me.

Fuck this family.

I grab my coat, leave the suitcases by the door, and walk out of the house without looking back.

The black car is waiting exactly where he said. The driver doesn’t speak as I slide into the backseat. Twenty minutes later, we pull up to a sleek penthouse building downtown.

Damien is standing in the open elevator, waiting for me. His dark eyes burn with hunger the second they land on me.

I don’t speak. I grab fistfuls of his shirt and yank him down hard to my level. Our mouths crash together. The kiss is messy, angry, and starving. I pour every bit of rage, shame, and years of frustration into it, biting his lip, sucking his tongue, kissing him like I’ll die if I stop.

Damien groans deep in his chest, caught off guard for half a breath, then surges forward to match me. His hands slide down and grip my ass possessively, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lifts me clean off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist instantly, grinding my aching center against the thick bulge straining in his pants.

He carries me like I weigh nothing, mouth devouring mine while his fingers knead and spread my cheeks through my jeans. Every step makes his hardness rub right against my clit, sending sparks shooting up my spine. I bite his lower lip hard enough to make him hiss, then soothe it with my tongue, hungry for more.

The bedroom door bangs open. He kicks it shut behind us and drops me onto the massive bed. I don’t let him pull away. I drag him down with me, still kissing like I’ll die if I stop.

Damien finally breaks the kiss, breathing rough. His eyes have gone almost black. He yanks my shirt off and rips my bra away. Cool air hits my breasts before his hot mouth closes over one nipple, sucking hard while his hand palms the other, rolling the stiff peak between rough fingers.

A broken sound tears from my throat. 

“Ahh…” I moan, back arching.

He switches to the other nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make my back bow off the bed. While his mouth works me, his free hand pops the button on my jeans and shoves them down my legs along with my panties in one impatient move.

I’m completely naked under him. He sits back on his knees and just stares, chest rising and falling fast. His gaze feels like a physical touch, dragging over my flushed skin, my hard nipples, the slick shine already coating my inner thighs.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You’re a goddamn goddess.”

Before I can respond, he spreads my thighs wide and dives in.

His tongue drags slowly and heavy through my folds, then flicks fast over my clit. Two thick fingers push inside me, curling deep.

“Mmm… shit, right there,” I moan, hips rolling against his face.

He sucks my clit between his lips and pumps his fingers faster. The wet sounds are filthy. My thighs start shaking. Pleasure coils tight in my belly.

“Oh God—” I cry out.

Damien pulls back instantly, eyes blazing. He climbs up my body and grabs my jaw, forcing me to look at him.

“He’s not the one making this pussy throb and drip all over my hand,” he growls. “I am. Say my fucking name when you moan like that.”

He shoves three fingers back inside me, stretching me wide, and attacks my clit with his tongue again. Harder. Faster. Relentless.

“Damien!” I moan loudly, gripping his hair tight.

He groans against my pussy, the vibration shooting straight through me. “Good girl. Listen to how wet you are, baby. Sucking my fingers like you can’t get enough.”

I’m panting, hips bucking. “Don’t stop… please, I’m so close.”

He curls his fingers harder, hitting that spot that makes my toes curl. “You don’t come until I say. Hold it.”

The pressure builds until it hurts. My whole body trembles. I’m right there, dripping down his hand.

“Damien… I can’t—” 

He suddenly slows down, keeping me teetering on the edge. I whimper in frustration.

He flips me onto my stomach, yanks my hips up, and licks me from behind. His tongue pushes into my pussy while his thumb rubs firm circles on my clit. He drags his tongue higher, licking over my tight little asshole, making me jerk.

“Fuck… what are you doing?” I moan, shocked and turned on.

“Every part of you belongs to me,” he says, voice rough. He pushes two fingers back into my pussy and keeps licking. “I’m going to ruin this body until you can’t walk straight.”

I push back against his face, moaning helplessly. “Mmm… yes, like that.”

He fucks me faster with his fingers, tongue working my clit without mercy. The orgasm rushes back fast and violently.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasp.

“Come on my tongue. Let me taste how bad you need my cock.”

I come intensely, crying out as my pussy clenches around his fingers again and again. My legs shake so bad I almost collapse. He keeps licking and pumping through every wave, drawing it out until I’m trembling.

When he finally pulls back, I’m a mess — face down, ass up, pussy dripping and still pulsing.

Damien flips me onto my back and crawls over me. His cock is rock hard, straining against his pants as he grinds slowly between my soaked folds, teasing me.

“Feel that?” he murmurs against my ear. “That’s what’s going to stretch this pretty pussy open soon. You’re going to take it like a good girl.”

I reach down and palm him through the fabric, feeling exactly how big and thick he is. My mouth waters.

“Then give it to me,” I breathe, squeezing him. “Every inch.”