PROLOGUE: Three Weeks In

The kitchen was supposed to be empty.

Aria's hands trembled as she reached for the flour on the top shelf of the storage pantry, her mind racing through the list of tasks Mrs. Chen had assigned her that evening. The rest of the staff had retired to their quarters an hour ago. The massive Blackwood estate was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and her own quickening breath.

She should have known better.

She should have known he would find her.

The pantry door clicked shut behind her with a finality that made her stomach drop. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Her body knew before her mind did the sudden heat that flooded her core, the way her nipples hardened instantly against the thin fabric of her uniform, the wetness that pooled between her thighs without permission.

Three weeks. It had only been three weeks since that first night, and he had completely unmade her. Rebuilt her. Ruined her for anyone else.

"Did you really think you could avoid me all day?" His voice was dark velvet, wrapping around her like a physical touch.

Aria's fingers tightened on the shelf. Every muscle in her body locked up not from fear, but from the overwhelming need that crashed through her whenever he was near.

"Mr. Blackwood, I was just"

"Damien." His breath was hot against her neck as he closed the distance between them. "You scream my name when I'm inside you. When I make you come so hard you forget your own name. Don't go back to formalities now."

God, the things this man could do with just his voice. The filthy promises. The dark commands. The way he spoke to her like she was his to use, his to pleasure, his to own.

"I have work to finish," she whispered, but even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded. How breathless.

"No, you don't." His hands gripped her waist, spinning her around to face him. Those steel-gray eyes pinned her in place, eyes that saw through every lie, every defense, every mask she wore.

"The only work you have tonight is taking my cock. Being a good girl for me. Let me use this pretty little body exactly how I want."

Large hands slid up her sides as he backed her against the shelves. Damien Blackwood stood before her six feet three inches of pure masculine dominance dressed in a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms. Dark hair slightly disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it. And those eyes... God, those eyes that seemed to strip away everything until she was laid bare before him.

"I've been hard for you all fucking day," he growled, pressing his hips forward so she could feel exactly what he meant. The thick ridge of his erection ground against her stomach through his tailored pants.

"Watching you bend over to serve lunch. Those little glances you kept stealing at me. Did you think I didn't notice?"

"Damien, we can't not…here..the others might.."

His mouth crashed against hers, swallowing her protests. This wasn't a gentle kiss. This was claiming, possessing, devouring.

His tongue invaded her mouth with the same dominance he brought to everything else, and she melted against him like she always did, like she couldn't help doing anymore.

When had she become this person? This desperate, aching thing that lived only for his touch?

Three weeks ago, she'd never been kissed. Never been touched. Never knew her body could feel like this like it was on fire and only he had the water to put it out.

He broke the kiss, leaving her gasping. "Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn. Around." Each word was a command that went straight to her core, making her clench around nothing.

Her body obeyed before her mind could protest. He pressed her forward until her palms were flat against the shelf, flour forgotten.

"Spread your legs."

"Damien, please, if someone hears"

"Then you'll have to be very, very quiet, won't you?" His hand slid up the back of her thigh, pushing her uniform skirt up around her waist. "Though we both know how much you love to scream for me when I'm deep inside you. When I'm hitting that spot that makes you see stars."

His fingers hooked into her panties the ones he'd specifically told her to wear this morning, the black lace ones he'd bought for her and yanked them down roughly. They caught around her knees, keeping her legs trapped together in a way that made her feel even more exposed, more vulnerable.

*More his."

"Fuck," he breathed, and she felt his fingers slide through her wetness. "Already soaked. Does it turn you on?'' 

Knowing I could take you anywhere in this house? That I have taken you everywhere? The library. My office. The shower. That guest bedroom where you were supposed to be working."

It did. God help her, it did. She'd never been the kind of girl who fantasized about things like this. Before Damien, she'd barely thought about sex at all. Her mission had been simple: infiltrate the estate, get the medicinal plant, save her mother. Clean. Clinical. Necessary.

But nothing about Damien Blackwood was clean or clinical.

"Answer me." His hand cracked against her ass not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make her gasp, enough to send a shock of pleasure-pain straight to her clit.

"Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, it turns me on."

"That's my good girl." She heard the sound of his belt buckle, the zip of his pants, and her inner muscles clenched in anticipation. Her body had learned to crave him with an addiction that terrified her.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you in this pantry while the rest of the house sleeps. And you're going to take every inch of my cock like the perfect little thing you are. Understand?"

The broad head of his cock pressed against her entrance. Even now, even after three weeks of him taking her almost daily, there was that moment of resistance. He was so big, so thick, stretching her in ways that bordered on pain even as her body wept for him.

"Deep breath, baby," he murmured against her ear, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise while the other braced against the shelf beside her. "You know you can take me. You always do."

Then he thrust forward in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt.

Aria's mouth opened in a silent scream, her back arching as he filled her completely. Too much. It was always too much and never enough at the same time. The stretch burned and ached and felt so fucking good she wanted to cry.

"Fuck, you're tight," Damien groaned, his forehead pressing against her shoulder blade as he held himself still, letting her adjust. "Every goddamn time, you grip me like a vice. Like this pretty little cunt was made specifically for my cock. Like you were made to be mine."

She couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Her fingers clutched at the shelf as he withdrew slowly so slowly she could feel every ridge, every vein before slamming back in.

"Remember the first time?" His voice was rough, strained with the effort of maintaining some control. "You were so scared. So innocent. Didn't even know what an orgasm was. And now look at you taking my cock like you were born for it. Begging me to fuck you harder. To use you. To own you."

He set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping forward with enough force to rattle the jars on the shelf. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, mixing with their harsh breathing and her muffled whimpers.

"Hand," he commanded. "Cover your mouth."

She pressed her palm against her lips just as he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made stars explode behind her eyes. The moan that tried to escape was muffled against her hand, but she could still hear it, and if she could hear it, someone else might

"That's it," Damien panted, his grip on her hip tightening. "Struggle with it, baby. Try to stay quiet while I fuck this sweet pussy. God, you're squeezing me so tight. You close already?"

She nodded frantically, unable to form words. The pressure was building low in her belly, that coiling tension that she now recognized, that she'd become addicted to chasing.

His free hand snaked around her body, fingers finding her clit with the practiced ease of someone who'd mapped every inch of her. He rubbed tight circles against the swollen bud, and her legs nearly gave out.

"Come on my cock," he ordered, voice rough and commanding. "Now, Aria. Let me feel it."

The use of her real name, the one he wasn't supposed to know, the one that was part of her carefully constructed lie sent her over the edge.

Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming. Her body convulsed, inner muscles clamping down on him so hard it must have hurt, but Damien only groaned in satisfaction. She bit down on her palm to keep from screaming, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

"Fuck, yes, just like that," he growled, fucking her through it, prolonging the waves of pleasure until she was sure she'd pass out. "Feel you coming apart. Feel you falling apart on my cock. Mine. All fucking mine."

She was still trembling, still floating in that post-orgasmic haze when he pulled out suddenly. Before she could protest the emptiness, he spun her around and lifted her like she weighed nothing, setting her on the edge of the shelf.

Jars and containers crashed to the floor. Later, she'd worry about explaining that. Right now, all she could focus on was the feral look in his eyes as he gripped her thighs and spread them wide.

"Look at me," he demanded, positioning himself at her entrance again. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."

Their eyes locked as he thrust back inside, and the intimacy of the raw connection nearly shattered her. This position was deeper, more intense, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back.

"There she is," he murmured, one hand cupping her face while the other supported her weight. "My beautiful little liar."

The word cut through her pleasure-drunk mind like a knife. Liar. Because that's what she was, wasn't it?

Everything about her presence here was a lie. Her name, her background, her reasons. The only truth was this the way her body responded to his, the way she'd somehow fallen completely, irrevocably for the one man she was supposed to be using.

"Don't think," Damien ordered, as if reading her mind. His thumb brushed across her swollen lower lip. "Don't think about anything except how good I make you feel. How perfect we are together. How much you need this. Need me."

He picked up the pace again, harder now, more desperate. The shelf creaked under their combined weight, but neither of them cared. His mouth found hers in a kiss that was more teeth and tongue than finesse, and she kissed him back with everything she had.

"Going to come inside you," he panted against her lips. "Fill this pussy up. Mark you as mine from the inside out. You want that?"

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, please, Damien, please"

She didn't even know what she was begging for anymore. More? Less? Everything?

His hand slid between their bodies again, finding her oversensitive clit, and she shattered for the second time. This orgasm was quieter but no less intense, rolling through her in waves that seemed to go on forever.

Damien followed her over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself inside her. She felt the hot pulse of his release, felt him marking her just like he'd promised, and some primal part of her gloried in it.

They stayed like that for long moments, both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. His softening cock was still inside her, and she could feel their combined release beginning to leak out.

"You're going to be the death of me," Damien finally said, his voice rough and raw.

Aria let out a shaky laugh, still trying to catch her breath. "Pretty sure that's my line."

He pulled back to look at her, and there was something in his expression that made her chest tighten. Something that looked almost like tenderness beneath the possessiveness.

"Good girl" he said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He withdrew from her body carefully, and she felt the loss immediately. He tucked himself back into his pants while she slid down from the shelf on shaking legs.

"Clean yourself up," Damien said, his tone shifting back to that commanding register. "But don't change your panties. I want my cum inside you for the rest of the night. I want you to feel it. Remember what we did. Remember who you belong to."

The crude words sent a fresh wave of heat through her exhausted body.

"I should go," she managed, even though her legs felt like they might give out.

"You should." But his eyes said he wasn't quite ready to let her leave. He traced a finger down her cheek, her neck, between her breasts. "Tomorrow night. My room. I have something special planned for you."

"What kind of special?"

His grin was absolutely wicked. "The kind that's going to teach you just how good pleasure and a little bit of pain can feel together. The kind that's going to make you question every boundary you thought you had."

She should be scared. Should protest. Should remember that this was all getting too complicated, too real.

Instead, all she could think was yes.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead surprisingly gently after everything else. "Now go. Before I decide I'm not done with you yet."

Sarah...Aria...fled then, practically running from the pantry, leaving him alone with the wreckage both literal and metaphorical.

Jars lay broken on the floor. Her uniform was wrinkled and stained. Her body ached in the most delicious ways. And she could still feel him inside her, the wetness between her thighs a constant reminder of what they'd done.

She made it back to her room without encountering anyone, which felt like a miracle.

Once inside, she collapsed on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her body still humming with aftershocks.

Three weeks ago, she'd walked into this house as a virgin with a mission.

Now she was addicted to a man who somehow made her forget everything else when he touched her. Who made her body sing in ways she'd never imagined. Who was slowly, methodically, thoroughly claiming every piece of her.

And the worst part? She didn't want him to stop.

Even though she knew it was all going to end in disaster.

Even though she was lying to him with every breath.

Even though her mother was dying,and she should be focused solely on her mission.

She wanted him. Craved him. Was becoming the obsessed, desperate thing he was shaping her into.

What have I become? she thought as sleep finally claimed her.

But deep down, she already knew

the answer.

His.

She'd become his.

And there was no going back from that.

Three weeks earlier…