Twice Claimed: Bound by the Billionaire

Chapter Thirteen

Damien’s gaze is locked with mine for a moment.. His words - “She’s gone” - somehow remain between us. They sounded final.

Yet the look that passes between the two men a moment later says otherwise. Gone, yes. Forgotten, never.

My heart hammers as I step back. I still don’t understand the rules of this house - or of these men - but I know this much: I’m standing in the ruins of a love that once consumed them both.

And something deep inside of me insists that history is about to repeat itself.

- ### -

The corridor settles into silence after Noah and Damien walk away. For a moment, I stay where we’ve all been, heart still racing. I can hear the faint echo of Damien’s footsteps moving farther away, the low murmur of a door closing somewhere down the hall. The house feels too large suddenly, every tick of the clock reminding me that I don’t quite belong here.

I find my way back to the suite, expecting Damian to be gone. Instead, he’s there - sitting in a chair by the window. A glass of Scotch rests on the table at his elbow. He doesn’t look up when I enter.

“You shouldn’t wander alone,” he says quietly.

“I wasn’t -“

“You were in my study.”

I hesitate. “I saw a photograph.”

He takes a long sip before answering. “Then you saw more than I meant you to.”

The air hums with things left unsaid. I cross the room, stopping a couple of feet away.

“Damian. Who was she?”

His hand tightens around the glass. “Her name was Elena. She.. was important.”

“To both of you.”

“To all of us,” he corrects softly.

A long pause. Outside, thunder rumbles distantly over the hills. I fold my arms, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Is that why Noah said I don’t know what I’ve gotten into?”

Damien finally looks at me, eyes shadowed. “Noah lives in the past. I live with it. That’s not the same.”

I don’t press. Instead, I say, “You don’t have to tell me everything tonight.”

That draws a faint, tired smile from him. “You might be the first person who’s ever said that to me.”

He sets the glass down and rises, coming closer. The air between us changes - not so much with heat this time, but with recognition. We’re both people who’ve been bruised by ghosts.

He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The gesture is so tender, almost reverent.

“This house keeps its secrets,” he murmurs, “but you shouldn’t be one of them, Sienna.”

He leans down, and his lips faintly brush across mine. I catch his familiar scent of sandalwood and taste a hint of Scotch.

I gently set my palm against his chest, then slowly sliding it lower, then lower still until my hand has settled on his crotch. “Damian,” I whisper. “Let me.”

Comfort him. Help him forget. I don’t explain; I don’t need to.

He doesn’t respond in words, but the exhaling hiss from his throat, the brief nod tell me everything I need to know.

I kneel before him and unzip his pants, freeing his length from the cloth. He’s already erect. Ready.

I run my fingertip along the tip of his c**k, trace the veins down his entire shaft. Cup his balls as I lick him, then I take him into my mouth.

I keep up a steady pace, my body rocking back and forth, tongue and teeth at work. He moans, hand gripping my hair. “Sienna. Yes. Oh God, I’m already close -“

I increase my speed, hand massaging him. I can feel his c**k jerk, hear his guttural moan before he loses total control. His seed spills down my throat.

Moments later, after we’ve caught our breath, Damien removes a handkerchief from his pocket, and tenderly wipes my face. “Sweet,” he whispers.

A creaking sound alerts us both that we aren’t alone. We turn.

Noah stands in the doorway.