One Forbidden Night: The Billionaire's Obsession

Chapter 9: Morning Claim

Elara

Morning light poured through the penthouse windows in golden sheets, turning the marble floors into liquid fire. I woke curled against Damian's chest-his arm heavy across my waist, breath steady and warm against my neck. For a second, the world felt almost normal. Almost safe.

Then reality rushed back.

I was naked.

Marked.

Filled.

His.

The soreness between my legs was deeper now-tender, swollen, a constant reminder of how many times he'd taken me last night. On the table. Against the window. In his bed. Bare every time. No condom. No pulling out. Just him spilling inside me over and over until I lost count of the orgasms, until my voice broke on his name.

I shifted slightly. His c**k-still half-hard even in sleep-nudged against my ass. The piercing pressed cool metal against my skin. A shiver raced through me.

His arm tightened. Pulled me closer.

"Morning, sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough with sleep. Lips brushed my shoulder. Teeth grazed the fresh bite mark he'd left there hours ago.

I swallowed. "Morning."

He rolled me onto my back. Loomed over me-broad shoulders blocking the light, silver-threaded hair falling into his eyes. He looked like sin in the daylight.

"Sleep well?"

I nodded. Lie. I'd barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him-deep, relentless, claiming.

He kissed me-slow, deep, possessive. Tongue stroking mine like he was tasting the surrender he'd wrung from me last night.

His hand slid down my body. Cupped my breast. Thumb circled the n****e until it hardened.

"You're still sensitive," he said against my mouth. Satisfaction in every word.

I whimpered.

His fingers trailed lower. Parted my thighs. Found me-slick, swollen, leaking his release from the night before.

"f**k," he growled. "Still full of me."

Two fingers pushed inside-easy, because I was already so wet. He pumped slowly. Curled them. Hit that spot.

My hips lifted instinctively.

He smiled-dark, triumphant.

"Already aching for more."

He withdrew. Brought his fingers to my lips.

"Taste us."

I opened my mouth. Sucked. The combined taste of him and me flooded my tongue-salty, intimate, filthy.

His eyes darkened.

He shifted down my body. Kissed a path over my breasts, stomach, hips. Settled between my legs.

Spread me wide.

"Look at you," he murmured. "Swollen. Red. Dripping my cum."

His tongue flicked out. Lapped at my entrance-slow, deliberate. Collecting what he'd left inside me.

I moaned-loud, broken.

He sucked my c**t into his mouth. Gentle at first. Then harder.

Fingers plunged back in-three this time. Stretching. Pumping.

I arched. Hands fisting the sheets.

"Come on my tongue," he commanded. "Let me taste how much you love being filled with me."

The words pushed me over.

I shattered-crying out, thighs clamping around his head, release flooding his mouth. He drank every drop-groaning like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

When the tremors faded, he rose. Kissed me-deep, letting me taste myself and him on his tongue.

Then he positioned himself at my entrance. No condom. Just the blunt head of his c**k-pierced, hot, ready.

"Say it," he said.

I met his eyes.

"I'm yours."

He thrust in-slow, deep, bare.

The stretch was exquisite. The piercing dragged along every nerve. The fullness made me gasp.

He f****d me like it was worship-slow, deliberate strokes, eyes locked on mine.

"You feel that?" he whispered. "Every inch of me inside you. No barriers. Just us."

I nodded. Tears pricked my eyes-not pain. Overwhelm.

He sped up. Harder. Deeper.

One hand pinned my wrists above my head. The other rubbed tight circles on my c**t.

"Come with me," he ordered.

I did-clenching around him, milking him, screaming his name.

He buried himself deep-groaning low, pulsing hot inside me, filling me again.

We stayed locked together-panting, trembling.

He kissed my forehead. My cheeks. My lips.

"You're not going anywhere," he said quietly.

I wrapped my legs around him.

"I know."

He pulled out slowly. Watched his release trickle out.

Smiled.

"Shower with me."

I nodded.

He carried me to the bathroom-effortless. Set me on the counter. Turned on the rainfall shower.

Steam filled the room.

He stepped under the water. Held out his hand.

I took it.

Stepped in.

Hot water cascaded over us.

He washed me-gentle, thorough. Soaped my breasts, my stomach, between my legs. Fingers careful around the swollen, sensitive flesh.

I washed him too-hands tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars I hadn't noticed before, the piercing that had ruined me for anyone else.

When we were clean, he pressed me against the tile. Kissed me under the spray.

"Move in officially," he said. "Today."

I looked up at him-water streaming down his face, eyes intense.

"I already have."

He smiled-real, almost soft.

Then he lifted me. Wrapped my legs around his waist.

Pushed inside me again-slow, deep, bare.

I moaned against his mouth.

He f****d me under the water-slow, languid, like we had forever.

Because we did.

No more running.

No more fighting.

Just this.

Him.

Me.

Owned.

And owning him right back.