Semua Bab The Mafia's Little Raven: Bab 91 - Bab 100

DAMIEN .. The word felt heavy on my tongue, thick with the dust of time and disuse. Months since she walked out that door, her eyes empty. That goddamn look. It was etched behind my eyelids, burned into the back of my skull, a constant, low-grade ache that had become the background noise of my life. Months since I’d stood in this penthouse, this gilded cage that was supposed to be my peace, and watched her choose to leave, watched her walk away towards a freedom I couldn't give her, not in the way she needed.I walked through the silent, perfectly curated space of the kitchen, the polished surfaces gleaming under the recessed lights. It felt different now. Not calm, like Leila had seen it, but sterile, like life itself had been scrubbed away, leaving behind only the expensive, lifeless shell of what could have been. Food was in the fridge, prepared by someone else, neat containers of things I couldn’t bring myself to touch. I hadn’t felt like eating anything ever since. H

DAMIEN ..My mouth found a nipple, drawing it in, tasting her. Sweet, warm while her moan intensified, a choked cry of pleasure.I suckled, gently at first, then with more insistence, feeling her body tense and arch beneath me.Her fingers tangled in my hair, holding me close.“God,” she whispered, her voice husky, strained with pleasure. “Yes.”My hand moved lower, finding the delicate curve of her inner thigh as her skin was impossibly smooth, warm to the touch.I traced the line, moving towards the heat pooling between her legs, even before I reached her, I could feel the warmth radiating from her core, she was wet.So incredibly wet.My fingers brushed against the slick heat, feeling the soft, sensitive folds.Her legs parted slightly, an unspoken invitation and my fingers found her pussy, exploring the soft, wet entrance.She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, her hips lifting instinctively while my fingers nudged gently, feeling the tightness, the heat.It was a fight, a swe

DAMIEN .. Asking her out felt like a monumental task. Me, Damien, the man who gave orders, who took what he wanted. Asking. It felt unfamiliar. I even went to Clever, and it actually felt absurd, seeking dating advice from the man who probably managed my social calendar better than I ever could.I called him to the penthouse one afternoon, after Elena had left. He arrived, prompt and quiet, a stack of files under his arm. Clever walked in while the sound of his footsteps was so quiet and in a more diligent way than anyone else, a man who moved with a purpose I barely possessed anymore.“Clever,” I started, the words feeling clumsy, awkward, scraping against my tongue. “Hypothetically.”He paused, looked at me with that calm, knowing expression that always made me wonder exactly how much he saw. “Hypothetically, Damien?”We’ve grown so close these past period and it feels different, having someone close, something I’ve never done from when I was little. “If you were… you kno

DAMIEN ..I saw the question, the confusion, perhaps even a flicker of hurt in Elena’s eyes as I curtly dismissed her innocent curiosity about the painting.But the wall was up and slammed shut because doors just couldn’t be opened, not even for her.We left the penthouse shortly after, the silence in the car a different feeling to the easy conversation we usually shared.London. Business called, opportunities to expand the reach of the empire, to solidify the legitimate fronts. A chance to step further away from the shadows, maybe and a chance to have her with me, in a different city.The flight was long, a blur of hushed luxury and my own internal tension.She sensed it, of course, her hand finding mine, a quiet comfort offered without demand, a soft brush of her fingers against mine that spoke volumes in the shared silence.London welcomed us with a cool, grey embrace, our accommodation was a suite high above the city, all sleek lines and panoramic views, a different kind of op

DAMIEN ..The suite was silent when I entered.Dark.Just a few lamps on, casting pools of soft light, I knew she was here and my heart leaped, a flicker of desperate hope. She hadn't left London.She was here.I found her in the main living area.The lights were off except for the soft glow from the city outside the windows, she was sitting on the sofa, curled up, her perfect emerald green dress gone, replaced by a silk robe and a glass of red wine in her hand.Her hair was packed up, tied back in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, exposing the elegant line of her throat.She looked fragile. Beautifully broken.Her body language radiating sadness and withdrawal.She looked up as I entered the room, her eyes, dark in the dim light, fixing on mine. No smile.Just a deep, silent stare that pierced right through me, it showed that she had some much questions and it had a profound sadness and judgment in them.I walked into the room, slowly, needing to explain, “Elena,” I said, m