Pucked by my Fathers BestFriend

Shock

ELENA’S POV

The heavy silence of the estate always felt more suffocating after Damien pushed me away. I lay in bed for hours, staring into the shadows of the ceiling, my lips still tingling from the brief, rough brush of his thumb against my mouth. Every time we drew close, he erected a wall of cold stone, hiding behind the excuse that I was just a child to him. But the look in his eyes when he held me the raw, possessive hunger told an entirely different story.

By midnight, a restless heat and a sudden thirst drove me out of bed. Slipping into a silk robe that slithered against my bare skin, I padded quietly downstairs, the cold marble floor sending a sharp chill up my legs. After swallowing a glass of water in the kitchen, I began my ascent back to the east wing.

As I passed the grand hallway, a faint, amber glow spilling from the partially open doors of Damien’s private study caught my eye. He was still awake.

I should have walked straight back to my room, but a magnetic pull dragged my feet toward the heavy carved oak doors. A low, rhythmic sound echoing from inside made me freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

I peered through the narrow crack of the door, and the air vanished from my lungs.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the glowing screen of his laptop on the massive black desk. From the speakers, the low, unmistakable audio of a pornographic video filled the heavy air the rhythmic, breathless moans of a woman echoing softly in the dark.

But it wasn’t the video that made my heart hammer violently against my ribs. It was Damien.

He was leaning back in his leather executive chair, his throat bared to the ceiling as a rough, fractured gasp escaped his lips. His black button-up shirt hung completely undone, exposing the broad, hard planes of his chest and the rigid muscles of his stomach. His right hand was buried inside his trousers, wrapping firmly around his thick, rigid length. He kept stroking the head of his c**k roughly, his thumb smearing the slick pre-come over the flared tip in a brutal, demanding rhythm that made his hips jerk upward against his palm.

My eyes traveled to his left hand, which was gripping something tightly against his chest. When the light from the laptop screen shifted, my jaw dropped.

It was a photograph. A photograph of *me*.

It was a picture my father must have given him a candid shot of me from last summer, laughing with my hair down, completely oblivious. Damien’s thumb smeared across the gloss of the photo, holding it with a desperate, white-knuckled grip as his fist pumped faster and faster, friction heating the dark space between us. His jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck strained, a low, guttural growl ripping from his throat.

"Ahh, God, Elena... f**k," he groaned into the empty room, his voice a rough, undone syllable of pure torment and filth. "Elena..."

Hearing my name leave his lips in that tone soaked in a dark, depraved lust that had absolutely nothing to do with a guardian sent a violent shiver straight between my thighs. A sudden, heavy ache bloomed deep inside me, making my core drench with a fierce, answering heat. He wasn't thinking of me as a kid. He was consuming me in the dark, destroying his own sanity over my image while preaching rules to my face during the day.

His pace turned frantic, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his shaft, putting all his weight into the rough, friction-filled strokes against the sensitive head. He closed his eyes, his head snapping back as his body shuddered violently, spilling his thick release into his hand with a ragged, breathy sigh that echoed off the leather furniture. Even as his breathing slowed, his grip on my photograph never loosened.

Panic suddenly flared through my dizzy senses. If he caught me standing here, witnessing his complete undoing, there would be no turning back.

Clutching my glass tightly against my chest, I turned and hurried away as fast as my bare feet could carry me, slipping back into the shadows of the hallway. My heart was practically bursting out of my chest, my mind entirely consumed by the intoxicating truth: the monster didn't want to protect me from the dark. He was already drowning in it because of me.