LOGINDAMIEN
I arrive at Elara's apartment at exactly 7 PM with Thai food from her favorite restaurant and a bottle of wine.
My hand hovers over the door before knocking.
This feels different than before. More important. Like whatever conversation we have tonight will determine whether we actually have a future or if we're just postponing the inevitable.
I knock.
She opens the door immediately, like she was waiting on the other side. She's changed into soft leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and her face is scrubbed clean of makeup. She looks young and vulnerable and absolutely beautiful.
"Hi," she says softly.
DAMIENI arrive at Elara's apartment at exactly 7 PM with Thai food from her favorite restaurant and a bottle of wine.My hand hovers over the door before knocking.This feels different than before. More important. Like whatever conversation we have tonight will determine whether we actually have a future or if we're just postponing the inevitable.I knock.She opens the door immediately, like she was waiting on the other side. She's changed into soft leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and her face is scrubbed clean of makeup. She looks young and vulnerable and absolutely beautiful."Hi," she says softly.
DAMIEN"Then they heard." I tuck myself back in, making myself presentable. "I don't care, Elara. Let them gossip. Let them; moreover, they already know you're mine.""This was supposed to be about space," she says, but there's no real protest in her voice. "You know...it is supposed to be about me being independent.""And you are." I cup her face. "You lasted two weeks on your own. That's incredible. But independence doesn't
ELARATwo weeks.Fourteen days since our text exchange. Fourteen days of continued space, continued independence, and most importantly continued torture.But something is different We text now. Not constantly or obsessively. But regularly. Small check-ins that keep us connected without consuming our days How was your day?Thinking of you.Sleep well.Simple messages that somehow make the space bearable.I'm at my desk on a Wednesday afternoon when my body decides it's had enough.It has been showing me signs of withdrawal but I'm too stubborn to believe that I... that was once a virgin is now Obessed and addicted to sex and most importantly to amien's cock. It starts as a low ache between my thighs. Nothing unusual—I've been dealing with constant arousal for weeks now. But this time, it builds differently. It is faster and more intense. Until I'm shifting in my chair looking to create a dull friction, with my thighs clenched, trying desperately to focus on the presentation I'm su
ELARAFive days.Five days of space. Five days of independence. Five days of proving I can survive without Damien Cross consuming every moment of my life.I should feel victorious. Empowered. Free.Instead, I feel like I'm slowly dying.Work is going well. The Hudson project is exceeding expectations. I've been having regular lunches with Elise. I'm even going to the gym again, doing all the normal, healthy, independent-woman things.But at night... At night, I'm a mess.The vibrator has become my nightly companion. I've worn out the batteries twice. But no matter how many times I make myself come, it's never enough. The orgasms are sharp and quick, leaving me empty and aching for something the toy can't provide.For someone it can't provide.I have become addicted to sex and not just with anyone... It has to be with Damien. It is like I have been branded by him and no other man can evoke the feeling in me not even to have sex.I'm sitting at my desk on Friday afternoon, trying to fo
ELARAI lean against the cool tile wall, spreading my legs wider. I dip my fingers inside my pussy...putting in two at first, then three...stretching myself the way he does. The burn is delicious, but not enough. Never been enough. I pump them slow, then faster, curling to hit that spot that makes my breath hitch. My thumb grinds my clit in tight, ruthless circles.Water pounds my back, hot and relentless, matching the rhythm building inside me. I bite my lip to stay quiet, but moans slip out anyway...wet, needy sounds that are swallowed by steam. I can hear his voice in my ear: Good girl. Take what you need. But it’s not his fingers or his cock that is inside me, and the emptiness gnaws at me even as pleasure coils tighter.My release is hard and hot on my fingers, my walls clenching around my fingers, and a sharp cry tears from my throat. Hot pulses ripple through me, my thighs are quaking, and water mixes with my release as it drips down my legs.But the orgasm is shallow, quick, a
DAMIENI make it to my car before I punch the steering wheel hard enough to hurt.Fuck.Fuck.I pushed too hard. Said too much. Gave her an ultimatum when I promised I'd give her space.But watching her push me away after the most perfect morning we've had in weeks... I couldn't help myself.I'm trying. Really fucking trying to let her have her independence, her space, and her time to figure herself out.But every instinct I have screams at me to claim her, keep her, and make her understand that this separation is pointless.My phone rings. Sebastian."What?""Rough morning?" He sounds amused."She kicked me out. After calling me last night desperate and begging, after letting me stay over, after enjoying ourselves throughout the night and this morning, that should have convinced her we belong together, yet she kicked me out.""Because you pushed.""I didn't push. I just... pointed out that this arrangement is unsustainable.""So you pushed." Sebastian sighs. "Damien, you promised to







