02

Terra’s P.O.V.

Now I believe in the saying, “When the rice comes to the chicken instead.” Never in a million years did I expect to be the one walking toward him, not the other way around. But here I was. With the dim, sultry lighting of the club casting a hazy glow over the crowd, the bass vibrating through the floor like a second heartbeat, and Delton sitting at the bar—unsuspecting—I was ready. I had planned every second of this, every angle. There was no room for error.

At least, there wasn’t supposed to be.

But now, standing only a few steps away from him, the room began to spin. Dizziness prickled at the edge of my vision. One shot of tequila couldn’t possibly be doing this. I was a responsible drinker. This wasn’t the alcohol—it was the nerves, the pressure, the voice screaming in my head.

Is this the right thing to do?

I didn’t even have time to answer before Delton turned. His eyes met mine—studying, curious, slightly narrowed with concern. He leaned forward just a little, enough to let me know he’d noticed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

His voice. Calm. Low. Almost…genuine. And it threw me off completely. He wasn’t supposed to ask. He wasn’t supposed to care. I caught my breath, plastering a shaky smile on my face and pressing my hand to my forehead like a scene from a drama. “I—I didn’t realize how much I drank tonight,” I said, forcing my voice into a slurred stammer. “It’s… getting really hot.”

I swayed a little closer to him, deliberately letting my balance waver. The stilettos didn’t help, but it was the storm inside me that made my knees weak. His cologne—rich, masculine, with a hint of cedar—hit me hard, suffocating almost. That scent. That exact smell. It was dangerous. It carried the echo of someone else entirely.

Damian.

A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. Why does he have to look so much like him?

“Sorry,” I mumbled, adding a breathy laugh to soften the cracks in my voice. “I’m just such a clumsy drinker.”

Then he looked at me fully. Those eyes—dark gray, cold and warm at the same time. His eyes. My heart skipped. The world around us blurred. I was no longer in a club. I was in the past. Wrapped in memories of Damian. His voice. His touch. His lies. And here I was, face-to-face with the man who made him, the man I had targeted as my pawn.

“You’re not fine,” Delton said, his voice dropping into something more serious. “You should get out of here. This place? It’s not for someone like you. If you’re not careful, you’re going to get yourself fucked by some random guy.”

Fucked. That word. Harsh. Raw. Honest.

And he was right.

But he didn’t know I was already ruined long before I stepped into this bar. He didn’t know the damage Damian had left behind when he vanished from my life without a trace. He didn’t know how I had bled in silence, how the ache twisted itself into a cold-blooded desire for revenge. A plan born not just from pain—but from love lost too brutally.

So here I was—playing drunk, playing naive. Getting close. Gaining his father’s trust. All for the ultimate goal: get Damian back. No matter the cost.

“No,” I replied quickly, shaking my head, fighting to keep tears from surfacing. “I’m fine. Really.”

But I wasn’t. I could feel the heat rising inside me—not from tequila, but from his nearness. From everything Delton reminded me of. The brush of Damian’s fingers. The taste of his kiss. The weight of his promises. Under the club’s flickering lights, I was slipping. Not because of Delton—but because I had never really gotten over his son.

Without realizing it, I moved closer. Too close.

“Fine,” I whispered, the words slithering out before I could catch them, “Then maybe I’ll get fucked by you tonight instead.”

My breath caught.

Shit.

What did I just say?

Delton’s eyes widened in stunned silence. His body went rigid, his muscles tensing. But I didn’t stop. I leaned in, stealing his lips. They were warm. Firm. Familiar. Like Damian’s—but not quite. Yet still enough to make my head spin harder than the alcohol ever could.

Electricity sparked in the kiss. Something raw and long-buried came rushing back to life in me. A dangerous hunger. A need. Not just to feel desired—but to forget.

What are you doing?! My mind screamed.

I was losing control. I was the one who was supposed to be in charge here. I was the manipulator. But now, Delton’s hands slid to my waist, gripping tight, pulling me in. And I realized—with a terrifying chill—I didn’t know who was playing who anymore.

Somehow, we were moving. Walking. No, stumbling. Into one of the private rooms above. Our lips are still locked. Our hands roaming. His touch was bold, tracing the shape of my body like he already knew every inch. My back hit the wall. I gasped as his mouth moved to my neck, his breath searing against my skin.

This wasn’t part of the plan. This was supposed to be a slow burn. A tease. A calculated seduction.

But every fiber of my body begged for more.

“Quit,” I spat out, barely. But even as I said it, my fingers tangled in his hair, yanking him closer, refusing to let him go. “We have to quit.”

Delton stared at me, hunger flashing like lightning in his eyes. “You’re playing with fire,” he growled. He pinned me harder against the wall, his voice thick with restraint. “And I’m not sure I can stop.”

My heart slammed wildly in my chest. This was wrong. So, so wrong.

And yet—God—it felt so right.

“I don’t care,” I whispered, voice shaking as the words spilled out. “I don’t care anymore.”

Delton’s hand drifted down my body, and the mere graze of his fingers sent a ripple down my spine. He was everything—strong, commanding, a man who didn’t ask for permission because he never needed to. The kind of man women lost themselves in.

But he wasn’t him.

He wasn’t Damian.

Damian. His name tore through my thoughts like a blade. A man who once made me feel all of this—and more. I loved him. Desperately. Fully. And now I was here, surrendering myself to the very man who fathered him, all in some twisted attempt to get him back.

“Fuck, my cock is getting harder,” Delton hissed under his breath, nudging against me. But then his tone changed, more grounded, more restrained. “Get the hell out of here before I lose the last bit of control I’ve got.”

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

But instead of stepping away, I dropped to my knees.

His eyes widened, startled. And if I was being honest, I shocked even myself. I stared up at him, breathing shallowly as he met my gaze with something unreadable.

That face. Strong jawline. Sharp cheekbones. That intense, masculine stare.

So much like his son.

“Let me see that cock,” I murmured.

His reaction was instant.

“Get up and fuck off. You’re drunk!”

“I’m not,” I replied calmly, already unzipping the zipper down there. He was rock-hard under the denim fabric, and I felt it twitch slightly in my hand.

He grabbed my wrist, firmly. “You’re just a college girl,” he growled. “Get the fuck off and leave.”

“Who told you that?” I replied smoothly, lifting my head to lock eyes with him again.

Before he could respond, I slid open the button of his pants and released him from his briefs.

My breath caught.

He was huge.

I blinked, stunned for just a second. My fingers curled around him instinctively, and I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath.

“Damn it,” he groaned.

His voice… didn’t sound angry. Not entirely. There was something else in it—pleasure, buried beneath a layer of hesitation.

I didn’t care if he was married. I didn’t care what it meant. I just needed this to mean something.

Whatever I started, I had to see through. So I began to stroke him again, slowly at first, feeling his pulse and grow in my hand.

“Shit,” he cursed again, voice lower this time. “Later you will regret playing with me.”

Yeah, maybe he was right. But I was burned with this pain and sensation at the same time both of his son and him provided.

I’d never seen a cock this big before. Not even Damian’s. Then again, I’d never seen Damian like this. He was tender. Gentle. He cared about the little things. He used to tell me how much he appreciated them. He used to repeat it to me a lot.

“I am,” I whispered. “But what matters now is this.”

“Fuck!”

Delton was panting now, head tilted back slightly as I took him deeper into my mouth. I didn’t even realize when I started licking his tip, but it felt so natural, so easy. Smooth, warm, velvety. My lips wrapped around him, and I took more—inch by inch—until his moans filled the room.

I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t.

And before I knew it, he came. Hot, thick, and deep into my throat. I swallowed instinctively, the taste unfamiliar but strangely satisfying.

I stayed there for a second, breathing him in. Savoring the aftermath.

Delton… I need to be a part of your life. Not forever. Just long enough.

Long enough to make Damian come back.

He’ll return. I know he will.

He has to. Because Damian loved me once—and I’ll make sure he does again.

We were meant to finish what we started.