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Brielle's POV Didn’t they say old tools were usually rusted? Then why did this man fuck so good? I thought as Mr. Brooke drove roughly into my pussy, his cock pounding into me with brutal precision. His movements were relentless, hard enough to leave me breathless. Every thrust sent pleasure crashing through my body while his hands roamed over me possessively, gripping whatever part of me he could reach. I could barely hold myself together, my fingers twisting into the sheets as helpless sounds spilled from my lips.

Damien stayed buried deep inside me, his thick cock stretching me perfectly. The candles around the room flickered faster, as if the air itself was breathing with us. Damien silver eyes glowed brighter in the dim light, almost like moonlight trapped inside them. He didn’t move right away. He just looked down at me, one hand gently brushing hair from my face. “You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered. “The house… it’s alive tonight.” I could only nod. My body felt electric. Every slow pulse of his cock inside me sent ripples of pleasure through my core. It wasn’t just sex. It felt like something older and something hungry.