Chapter Five

Selina’s POV

“Little Damien… you knew it was me,” he asked, voice low, taunting.

I rubbed my palms together, the liquid courage the alcohol had given me was fading, nerves sparking in its place.

“Not at first but…”

“But what?” His eyes sharpened.

“Only someone with a death wish would screw your fiancée in your own house.”

He chuckled, slow and dark, before rising to his feet and closing the space between us. His fingers found a loose strand of my hair, twirling it lazily as if he owned it… as if he owned me. But he owns you came a nagging voice in my head.

“So now you won’t let me fuck you,” he whispered, leaning close, “because I’m not your suicidal hero… but your captor.”

His breath burned against my skin a moment before his lips found my neck, biting, sucking, claiming. A moan tore out of me, long and shaky, my knees buckling beneath the weight of him. His hands clamped on my waist, holding me steady, refusing to let me go.

My fingers dug into his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, Selina,” he murmured against my throat, voice like a sinful prayer. His hand slid lower, cupping my ass, possessive, demanding, while his mouth branded my skin leaving their trail everywhere.

“I… I want to make them pay,” I gasped.

That pulled a growl from him. “Who, Selina? Say it. Tell me who.”

I met his gaze, my chest rising and falling too fast. “I want the ones who sold me to you to pay.”

His stare flickered with something sharp, unreadable. “Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”

“Being here. With me.”

I thought about lying, but he would know. He always knew. Slowly, I shook my head.

“No. I’m glad it’s you. Better you than that asshole I almost married.”

For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then, without warning, he scooped me into his arms.

“Where are we going?” I asked breathlessly as he carried me upstairs, down a long corridor. He didn’t answer.

He set me down on a wide bed, crouching so we were eye level. His hands slid beneath my dress, running up my thighs. Slow, deliberate.

“ You are going to make good on your promise, make little Damien happy tonight and I will help you”. He said, flashing me a cheeky smile.

I almost choked on my spit. He was… really going to help me? Part of me didn’t believe him, but something deep inside whispered that I could trust him.

His gaze never wavered, waiting for my answer. Boldness surged through me. I scooted closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing my breasts against him the way Christabel always did when she flirted.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” I breathed, trying to sound sultry.

His grin was wicked. “Let me worry about that, sweetheart.”

He rose and walked to the drawers, rummaging. My stomach twisted as he returned with a condom, a velvet rope… and a sleek black vibrator. Heat flooded my cheeks.

He leaned down, caressing my cheek. When I tried to turn away, he caught my chin, forcing my eyes back to his.

“You look beautiful when you blush,” he murmured.

That only made me burn hotter. He set the items on the bedside table with deliberate care.

“Take off your clothes.” His voice was a command, strict and unyielding.

My breath hitched. Slowly, I obeyed, peeling off my dress, careful not to meet his eyes. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide.

“Everything, Selina.”

My hands shook as I removed my bra and panties, standing bare before him.

“Now get on the bed, sweetheart.”

I climbed onto the mattress, heart hammering. He moved over me, his weight caging me in. My breath caught as his lips traced slow kisses up my thighs, a path of fire that stopped just before my core. His eyes lifted, stormy and intent.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, voice like sin.

He tied one of my wrists to the headboard, but when he reached for the other, his expression darkened. His thumb brushed over the swollen, reddened skin.

“What happened to you?” His tone was sharp, dangerous.

“I… I fell on my wrist,” I stammered.

“Don’t lie to me, Selina.”

I broke. “My ex. He pushed me. I landed on it.”

Silence. He untied my other wrist. My stomach dropped. My heart clenched with shame. Of course. He didn’t want me. I was damaged goods. The tears came hot and fast, and I didn’t bother to stop them.

He noticed. His thumb brushed the tears away, gentle in a way that undid me more than the ropes ever could.

“Why are you crying, darling?”

“You don’t want me,” I whispered, turning my face away, ashamed.

“I never said that.”

“Then… then why did you untie me?”

His eyes burned into mine. “Because you’re hurt. I won’t fuck you like this. But…” His lips curved, dark and promising. “…I can still make you feel good.”

Oh

He claimed my mouth again, teeth grazing my lips, tongue demanding entry. I held him off, savoring the flicker of power I had in this moment . A few heartbeats passed before I let him in, let him take, let him dominate.

His hands trailed lower, rough palms cupping my breasts, fingers pinching until the sweet sting made me cry out. A broken moan tore from my throat, unrestrained, hungry.

His hand hovered lower, stopping just above my heat, so close it burned. Teasing. Torturing.

“Damien… please,” I gasped.

He tilted his head, voice low and amused. “Please what, darling?”

The sharp bite of his teeth against my nipple made me arch, the groan spilling out of me before I could stop it.

He chuckled. Cruel. Patient. “Come on now. Tell me what you want.”

“Please… touch me,” I whispered, the desperation vivid in my voice .

“Touch you where?” His lips brushed my skin, every word deliberate, dragging. “Say it.”

“Please,” I broke, the words tumbling out. “Please touch my pussy,I want to cum on your hand so bad. Please, Damien.”

I could feel his smirk against my skin. “Good girl.”