lovin' a PLAYBOY

chapter 4

“You tricked me!” I managed to say. Then I paced the length of the luxurious villa’s veranda. I wanted to get my mind off the thoughts that were beginning to simmer in my head. “You deliberately hid that clause! You knew I was desperate!”

Damon watched me, leaning against the balcony railing, his expression infuriatingly calm. As though he knew his charm was working on me.

“I didn’t trick you, Eleanor. The contract was there for you to read. I didn’t force your hand.”

“But you knew I wouldn’t scrutinize every single line! I was focused on Lily!”

He paused. He stared.

“What?” I shrugged, opening my hands.

“You are different. You're just like her. I was doubting, until I saw the affection in your eyes when you looked at my daughter.”

I shook my head. It all felt like he was the game and I was playing myself right into him.

“If I could get you to love me with that heart of yours,” he shook his head slowly. “I'd be the richest on the planet.’

Based on stats, he was the richest…

“Riches to me isn't about funds anymore. I just want to be in a heart that would see me the way you're seeing Lily at the moment. And I want to keep that person in my heart too.”

Wait, is he hitting on me, really, now?

“Are you…” the words trailed off. “How do you expect me to just… have s*x with you?” I demanded, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “We just met! We don’t even like each other! Let alone love.”

“You’re my wife,” he stated simply, as if that single word negated every nuance of human emotion.

“I don’t love you!” I shouted. “You don’t love me, either! This is insane!”

“How does love work without sacrifice, Eleanor? You're here sacrificing your life for me and my daughter. That is love.”

He was right. Vengeance made me want to work with him, and sacrifice made me decide. But it wasn't love, just yet.

“You'll get anything you need and more.”

“Everything I needed didn’t quantify to this!” I yelled back. “This wasn’t part of the deal I mentally agreed to!”

“I’m out,” I declared, turning towards the door.

He straightened up. “And don't even think about it, you can’t be ‘out,’ Eleanor. Not now. Do you have any idea the media frenzy this would create? Married and divorced in a day? You’ll add another layer of chaos to an already explosive situation.”

“Then what do you suggest?” I retorted, my anger still simmering. “That I just… accept this? Hell no! You can go back to your mistresses, your prostitutes! I don’t care!”

A flicker of something – annoyance? hurt? – crossed his face. “Lily is here, Eleanor.” His voice softened, a vulnerability I hadn’t heard before. “Alright. Just tonight. Please. For tonight. Then… then I’ll figure something out.”

I stared at him, my anger momentarily eclipsed by a wave of confusion. “Will you die if you don’t have s*x, Damon?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Then, his gaze locked on mine, a raw intensity in his hazel eyes. “Maybe. Please, Eleanor.” He took a step towards me, reaching out, his fingers brushing my arm. “Just tonight.”

I took a step back. I didn’t know what to say. Lily’s small, trusting face flashed in my mind. A deep sigh escaped me.

It came again, the rebellion against myself. You're standing before a 6 ft 7-inch billionaire who has been tagged a god. Even in his chaos, no woman would say no.

I closed my eyes only to let the thoughts evaporate and when I opened, he had closed the distance.

“At your terms, baby girl. If you can't take it all, I'll put half.”

“What!”

“You may not be… able… to… you know, it's big and long,” his hand held the helm of his towel and pushed it down.

“Stop!” I yelled. How big could it be? I wondered.

“Alright, alright, we never can tell, you may be able to…” he dropped his towel.

I looked away. Breathing became something I struggled with. “Turn off the lights,” I mumbled.

“Hello, Ivana, turn off the light.” He spoke to one of his investments, his AI.

Ivana plunged us into darkness.

I could see his shadow, but then nothing. Until his breath landed on my forehead.

The darkness was absolute, a heavy velvet blanket that muffled the sound of my frantic heartbeat. The only illumination was the faint, milky glow of moonlight from the balcony doors. I stood there, frozen, as the room filled with the scent of whiskey and him.

Then, I felt his presence behind me first. I stood there, like a character in a horror movie, waiting to be swept by evil.

A whisper of cool air touched my back, and then the delicate, deliberate brush of his fingers on the knot of my dress. The silk whispered to the floor.

What are you doing? Eleanor? Run! I wished, but my body protested.

I shivered, the cool air on my bare skin a shock that made me gasp. He didn’t touch me yet. He simply let me stand, the tension a palpable thing between us.

Then, his lips found the curve of my neck, a warm, searching exploration that sent a tremor through my entire body. My mind was a whirlwind of angry protests, but my body was already betraying me.

A soft moan escaped me, and I hated myself for it. I clenched my fists, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a response, but his hands, so impossibly gentle, moved to my waist.

With his hands on my waist, he swerved to the front and closed the distance between us.

Oh my God. He was naked too. I felt his d**k throbbing between my thighs.

I gasped.

He pressed his body against me, forcing me to retreat. My heel touched the foot of the bed and I fell backwards with a sob.

I lay there, still rigid with a desperate, silent defiance. He moved over me, his weight a powerful, comforting pressure.

He reached my legs, he positioned himself in the middle.

My heart was beating faster than it normally would while my mind was revolving around diverse thoughts.

I felt his finger. I twitched.

Then he moved closer, “You're wet.”

It wasn't a lie. My body had betrayed me. From deep within me, I felt like something wanted to break out, or something was supposed to go in to free that which wanted to come out.

When he realized I was wet, he repositioned himself.

Oh my…

He entered. When he entered, the sensation was so overwhelming, so profound, that a gasp ripped from my lungs.

It was an involuntary sound, a surrender I hadn’t meant to make. I fought it, fought the pleasure that was blooming inside me like a dark, forbidden flower.

He kept thumping, with all that he had, each enough to get a moan from me. I didn't want him to know that I was enjoying it.

My mind became a battlefield. Don’t respond. Don’t enjoy this. This is wrong. But as his touch grew bolder, more insistent, a tremor ran through me. Against my will, a small moan escaped my lips. I hated it. I hated the way my body was betraying my mind. Yet, I found myself reaching for him, pulling him closer, a desperate need overriding my initial resistance.

I kept my hands by my side.

I pressed my lips together. I tried to stay still, to be a statue, but his rhythm was a language my body understood, a story I didn’t know I was fluent in.

I found that I wanted more of him. I felt he'd stop, I didn't want him to. My hands moved, I didn't stop. I found his back, I pulled him closer, my body arching into his.

He vibrated at some point, landed beside me, and while I was gathering my breath, his lips came again and set me on fire. The process was repeated thrice with different styles.

***

I woke to an empty bed, the sheets beside me still warm. Sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room in a golden glow.

I didn’t want to remember the night, the confusing swirl of emotions, the unexpected pleasure that had warred with my anger and resentment. Yet, the memory lingered, a strange, unsettling echo. He had been… skilled. The whispers about Damon Sterling being a god in bed suddenly made a disturbing kind of sense. I felt strangely hollowed out, like I had been broken down and hastily put back together overnight.

I sighed repeatedly. I had s*x with Damon Sterling. For the first and the last time. Are you sure? I couldn't answer.

My phone lay on the nightstand. I picked it up, bracing myself for more media fallout. Instead, my inbox was flooded with emails. Threats, veiled and direct, from addresses I didn’t recognize, some with royal crests in the signature.

More than that was expected. I was the wife of a murderer.

Then, a series of applications. Dozens of them. The subject lines read: “Investigative Specialist – Eager to Join Vance Investigations,” “Top Forensic Analyst Offering Services,” “Former Scotland Yard Detective Available.” Specialists from the United States, the UK, Israel, and Germany, all vowing their loyalty and offering their expertise to my newly formed firm, citing Damon Sterling’s high-profile case as the reason for their interest.

A slow smile spread across my face. Now I’m a boss. The billionaire's wife.

I sat up in bed. My heart still ached from Liam’s betrayal, Vivian’s treachery, and the firm. But now, I had a purpose, a team waiting.

“It’s time,” I whispered to the empty room, the sound of the waves no longer mocking. “It’s time to make everyone in my heartbreak and betrayal story pay.”

For Damon, I knew I wouldn't say no if he wanted s*x again.