TILL SHE BURN

CHAPTER FOUR

THE FIRE BETWEEN US

Mature content (rated 18+)

Sheila’s POV

There was something dangerously irresistible about Demian Sabastian, something no sane woman could fight off completely.

No matter how much I tried to bury my feelings, my body betrayed me each time he was near. His presence stirred something wild in me, something that no man, not even Eric, had ever awakened.

Eric had served a purpose, someone to hold when the nights got too cold, someone to pretend with. But Demian was different.

He didn’t just walk into a room, he owned it. And somehow, before I could protect myself, he had already claimed a part of me I never gave.

I called Olivia upstairs. My heart was racing, but I needed to say this out loud.

“What’s up?” she asked, flopping on my bed.

“I’ve made a decision,” I said, my voice steady but low. “I’m giving Demian a chance.”

Olivia’s eyes lit up like I had just announced we won the lottery.

“I knew it! Girl, you’re just late to the party,” she squealed, leaping into a dramatic happy dance. “Finally, I’ll have a rich man in this house spoiling me with gifts!”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Olivia, this is my love life, not your ATM fantasy.”

“Same difference,” she winked.

When I arrived at work the next morning, I didn’t expect the twist waiting for me. There he was, Demian, seated casually in my office chair like he owned me along with the company. My heart skipped.

“Good morning, Demian,” I said, walking confidently toward him. Then, shocking even myself, I sat on his lap and looked straight into his eyes. “I’ve decided to give us a chance.”

Before I could finish the sentence, his lips crashed into mine. It wasn’t soft. I wasn't hesitant. It was claiming. Possessive. Demanding. And I loved every second of it.

When he finally pulled away, slightly breathless, he stood and straightened his suit. “Check your drawer,” he said, a devilish smirk on his face. “I left you something.”

I did, and there it was. A sleek black card. No limit. “The pin is your birth date,” he said. “Buy whatever you want.”

I was stunned. I could barely form the words. “Thank you, Demian.”

But the surprises didn’t stop there.

After work, he whisked me away in his luxury car. The drive led us through quiet streets until we arrived at a gated mansion that looked like something out of a dream.

Water fountains, manicured gardens, an Olympic-sized pool, and inside, a dining table laid out like a five-star banquet with dishes I couldn’t pronounce.

“Welcome home,” he whispered.

I almost cried.

After dinner, he took me to our room. That’s what he called it. “Our room.” A soft, sensual warmth spread through my chest.

There, hanging in one section of his massive wardrobe, were designer dresses, luxury heels, silky lingerie, high-end makeup, everything in my size, color, and style. He had done his research.

“I want you to feel at home,” he said.

I headed to the shower, overwhelmed. When I came out, I found a red satin lingerie set laid across the bed with a handwritten note: I’ll be here in 30 minutes. Make yourself comfortable.

The air smelled of amber and musk. My heart pounded in anticipation.

Exactly 30 minutes later, he returned, towel low on his waist, chest glistening with droplets from the shower.

His abs were so defined, it looked like a sculptor had carved them. His hair, still wet, made him look even more dangerously irresistible.

Damn, I thought. He’s so fine it’s illegal.

I couldn't take my eyes away.

He slid into bed, his body warm and hard next to mine.

He kissed me, slow, sensual, deep. His hands explored my skin like he had memorized every inch. He cupped my breast, pinched my n****e lightly. I gasped. A moan slipped out.

His mouth left mine, trailing kisses down my neck to my collarbone.

When his lips reached my breast, he suckled like he was starving for me.

My back arched. His other hand teased the n****e he wasn't sucking, fingers playing on my n****e like his favorite instrument.

And thenI felt it. His arousal pressing against my thigh. Thick. Hard.

“Demian…” I moaned.

But just as things were about to go further, he stopped. Pulled away.

“Not tonight,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

“What?” I whispered, confused and breathless.

“That’s enough for tonight,” he repeated. “Get some sleep.”

He stood up and dropped the towel. Naked. His d**k was long, thick, veined, everything I liked. I swallowed hard, staring like a starving woman.

He walked to the bathroom, cool and composed, while I lay there burning with need.

Demian’s POV

I stood under the cold water, trying to cool the heat surging through me.

It took everything not to take her that night. But I didn’t want to rush. I wanted her to want me, to ache, to beg, to need.

When I came out, she was asleep. Her lips parted, body glowing under the sheets. Perfect.

The next day, I had drinks with Rave and a few others. We were laughing when I noticed Rave’s gaze fixated on something.

I turned and saw her, Sheila, on the balcony, wearing a dangerously short dress, her cleavage and ass practically exposed.

She was smirking, staring directly at me. My blood boiled. Was she trying to punish me for last night?

I excused myself and walked to her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Admiring the view,” she said sweetly.

“Not like that. Go inside and wear something appropriate, for now.”

I left before I lost control.

But I made a decision that night. I was going to punish her, and she was going to beg me to never stop.

Later, I returned from a late investor meeting.

I could see from the garage that the penthouse lights were on.

She was awake, or pretending. I stepped in. The lights were off. I turned them on and saw her bare back, G-string, seductive stillness.

My d**k hardened instantly.

I rushed to the shower, trying to stay composed, but I was back out in less than two minutes.

She was lying there, awake, eyes locked on mine. Her smirk was pure invitation.

I climbed into bed.

My mouth found hers. My tongue danced with hers. I kissed her until she gasped for air.

Then I moved down, her n*****s, her belly, her thighs. I teased her c**t until she was dripping. My finger slid inside. Her hips moved with my rhythm.

And when I finally put my mouth on her, her moans became screams.

“Demian!” she cried, breathless.

That was all I needed.

I slid into her. She was tight, hot, wet and mine.

We moved like fire meeting wind.

Her nails clawed into my back. Her moans fed my ego.

I f****d her slow and deep, then fast and rough, until she came, trembling under me. I followed with a groan that echoed through the walls.

I took her to the shower. Bathed her gently. Carried her back to bed. She matched me. My pace. My intensity. My wildness.

She was mine.

That night, I barely slept. I worked in the study, but my mind was on her.

The way she moaned, screamed my name and asked for more, the more i remember those, the harder i became.

Sheila’s POV

Morning light poured in. I stretched lazily, still sore and satisfied. But something felt… off.

A voice. A female voice.

I walked toward the living room and saw her. A tall, stunning woman. She turned and looked at me like she owned the room.

“Can I have a word in private?” I asked Demian.

“Of course,” he said casually.

I stood frozen. “Who is she?” I finally asked.

He looked at me. Calm. Cold. “My woman.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“You said I was the only one…”

He shrugged. “You were. Until she came back.

.