Damian Priest X Reader Novels & Stories

] So that was the kind of story I had landed in. Not a quiet office romance, but one of those serials readers tagged spicy and then threatened to riot over whenever the author faded to black. Ridiculous as it sounded, Damian's reaction had been real. When the toast ended, he turned and headed for the private bathroom at the end of the corridor. His back stayed straight, but his pace was quicker than usual. The comments lit up again. [@MafiaMutt: Tactical retreat. He is not surviving this floor.] [@SteamQueen: If she keeps that in her purse, he is done before lunch.]

He walked me back to the bed and laid me down and stood over me and I could see everything and feel my heart pounding somewhere in my throat because he was all sharp lines and controlled power and he was looking at me with so much possession. He kissed down my stomach, his hands sliding my underwear down my legs, and then his mouth was on my inner thigh, moving closer, and I was already gripping the sheets. "Fuck," I breathed, and then stopped because I did not actually know his name, I had just pulled something out of the air. He paused and looked up at me. "Damien Cross," he said, holding my gaze, and then his mouth was on my clit and every thought I had evaporated completely.

Rough. Minimal. Cold. “You shouldn’t be in here.” His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked at him. I scoffed lightly. “I don’t want to be.” I crossed my arms. “But I need to tell you about Damian.” Cain folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening.” That was…Unexpectedly easy. I took a breath. “Damian is a very sly man,” I began, putting extra emphasis on the word. “And he doesn’t need to be physically stronger than you to win.”

I was trapped, half-dressed, and utterly vulnerable in the center of his sanctuary. Damian’s dark eyes didn’t just look at me; they dismantled me. His gaze slowly tracked down from my wide, terrified eyes, over my flushed cheeks, down the strained line of my raised arm, and settled heavily on my exposed stomach. A dangerous, unreadable glint flared deep within his irises—a primal, predatory spark that made the phantom heat from my dream violently slam back into my lower abdomen. Finally, the agonizing standoff broke. Damian slowly let out a deep, gravelly breath. He didn't look angry; he looked completely, terrifyingly clinical. He took a step forward, his expensive leather dress shoes makin

But carrying that dangerous undercurrent I’d heard only a handful of times—when he sensed betrayal. Slowly, painfully, I turned. Damian stood there, the door half-open behind him, his expression unreadable. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair slightly mussed from his long day. He didn’t look angry. He looked… hurt. And that was so much worse. “Wh–what are you doing here?” I whispered, cursing the tremor in my voice. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His gaze shifted—sharp, unblinking—to the open file, then to the phone still in my hand.

He got close enough that my heart suddenly forgot how to beat properly. Then he whispered. “Consider this a sacrifice you have to make for Hartley Holdings to be yours.” His breath brushed against my lips as he spoke. Curse you, Dad. Curse you to the deepest part of hell. Damian closed the space between us and his lips pressed against mine. The world seemed to go silent. And I don’t know what demon possessed me, but I opened my mouth. And Damian took the invitation. God, he'll think I want him. His tongue slipped past my lips, warm and slow, exploring like he had all the time in the world.

He smirked mysteriously as he rubbed his palm together. “What do you mean?” I asked because I didn't catch whatever he'd said… “I want you to crawl your way into Alex’s Life again and this time make sure you own the keys to his heart… Make him bow to you and slowly divide the family…make them feel every single pain and torment you went through… Make them feel your wrath….” Damian was indeed the handsome villain in her life… He knew how to break and make a person and also have the cruelest plans laid out in his head..

With a trembling voice she said, "Alright, speak" Damian went into his room and sat down next to Nadlyn. He began to explain that he had lived his life in the shadow of Dario's success and that his feelings of blind jealousy had made him act without consideration. He regretted and felt guilty about Dario's death, and he knew he couldn't change his past. Nadlyn listened intently, her heart pounding. She knew Damian was sincere, but how should she react? Should she forgive Damian? Should she let Damian back into her life?

Damian crushed him against the wall, his hand plunging into the sergeant's chest, seeking his heart. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Sergeant Chriswell's final cry of excruciating pain reverberated through the room before he crumpled to the floor, lifeless. "Nooooooooo!" The Sheriff's anguished scream filled the air. Damian turned his attention toward the sheriff, his steps deliberate and menacing, as he slowly approached. "What are you?" the sheriff trembled, his voice laced with fear. "DEATH!" Damian replied, his words dripping with malevolence and a chilling certainty.

Damien blinked slowly, taking his time to register every detail of my expression into his damn memory, as if he hadn’t expected me to get mad at him for beating a defenseless man to a musk. “I don’t see a big difference between the two.” Damien argued, closing the gap between us and came to stand in front of me. “Oh, for fuck sake! You’re a thug, but surely you’re not dumb, are you? Do you not know when to stop?” I scoffed, my anger growing thicker. My chest heaving as I stared at him with hatred. First, he had cost me my job at the Great Fisher, and now here. “Sadly, I don’t seem to know what ‘stop’ means. You made the sound of being someone’s boyfriend sound so great now I don’t think I wa