Chapter19
1270 Words
The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow through the large glass windows when Damien pushed the door open. His footsteps halted at the entrance of the living room, and his sharp gaze swept across the scene before him.
Ava was lying on the floor, legs draped over the armrest of the couch like she had no care in the world. Her phone was held up, the screen lighting her face as bursts of laughter escaped her lips. Crumpled snack wrappers and half-empty cups were scattered across the rug, a pillow tossed carelessly near her feet.
Damien’s face tightened with disgust. His jaw ticked, eyes darkening. With slow, deliberate steps, he entered the room, his expensive shoes crunching lightly over a discarded cereal flake.
He used the tip of his shoe to nudge aside a chip packet from his path. The crinkle of the wrapper seemed to echo in the quiet room.
As he approached, Ava turned lazily, lifting her eyes to meet his before casually returning her attention to her phone laughing again at some t****k video.
“Ava,” Damien said, his voice low and tense. “What are you doing? What have you turned my house into, huh?”
His tone snapped through the air like a whip.
Ava flinched, visibly startled. She lowered her phone and stared up at him.
“What?” she snapped back. “What do you want from me? You practically imprisoned me in this mansion, and now I’m not even allowed to have a little fun? Or wait are you allergic to happiness now?”
Damien’s brow twitched. “This isn’t fun,” he said coldly, gesturing around. “This is chaos.”
“Maybe I like chaos,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
“Clearly.”
His eyes locked hers defiant, his blazing.
Before she could say another word, Damien stepped forward and scooped her up effortlessly. Ava gasped, struggling against his grip.
“Put me down! Put me down, what the hell are you doing?!” she yelled, kicking her legs as he carried her.
He didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, and his grip was strong. He walked straight to the dining table and set her down firmly on the edge.
Ava tried to get up, but his hand came up, cupping the side of her neck, gently but firmly. Her breath caught.
Damien leaned in, close, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. His eyes didn’t waver.
“Do you want to be punished?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Her body went still.
Her pulse quickened.
His other hand traced slowly along the outside of her thigh, his touch light, teasing. Ava’s breath hitched as her skin broke into goosebumps. She hated how her body reacted to him. Hated that even her spine shivered when his fingers brushed too close.
Still, she didn’t look away.
Her lips parted slightly.
Damien’s hand moved from her neck, fingers dragging gently across her bottom lip. Her eyelids fluttered, just for a second. Just long enough for him to notice.
He traced his hands under her shirt and he smirked.
Then he leaned in, mouth close to her ear. “Oh baby,” he whispered, voice velvet-smooth, “you’re not wearing a bra.”
Ava’s breath caught hard in her throat.
She froze, unsure whether to shove him away or pull him closer.
Then she felt his lips brush against the side of her neck, hot and deliberate. Her breath stuttered as his mouth pressed there firm and slow. The tension in her body melted, just slightly, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table.
Suddenly, without warning, he lifted her again, this time spinning her gently before bending her forward over the table.
“Damien…!” she gasped, a sound escaping her lips that wasn’t quite a protest.
It was a moan.
A soft one.
She immediately regretted it.
Her face flushed with embarrassment.
Before she could even catch her breath, his palm came down with a sharp smack on her ass.
“f**k,” she whispered through gritted teeth, eyes squeezing shut.
Damien leaned forward, chest brushing her back, lips near her ear.
“I know you want it, mama,” he whispered, voice low and sultry. “But I won’t give it to you.”
Then he stepped away.
Ava barely moved, still bent over the table, stunned, heart pounding wildly in her chest.
She heard his footsteps, slow and unhurried, retreating across the floor.
Then the sound of his shoes hitting the stairs.
Upward. Away.
The silence that followed was maddening.
Ava didn’t move.
She just stood there, breath uneven, lips slightly parted, her body still tingling with the echo of his touch.
And one single thought spinning in her mind,
What the hell is he doing to me?
Ava shot up from the table, her breath ragged, her face flushed with heat but not from arousal this time. It was rage.
Her fists clenched at her sides as her heart thundered. What the hell just happened?
She was furious with Damien. With herself.
Her legs trembled slightly as she took a step back. “What is wrong with me?” she whispered, dragging her hands through her hair. “Why did I let him touch me like that?” Her voice broke, equal parts shame and desire tangled in it. “And that bastard had the audacity to walk away like that? Like it meant nothing?”
She slapped her own cheek lightly, but it snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts.
"Stupid," she muttered, pacing. “So f*****g stupid.”
Still fuming, Ava turned and stormed up the stairs, each step fueled by the whirlwind of emotions building inside her embarrassment, need, resentment.
She slammed her bedroom door behind her and threw herself on the bed. But lying down only made it worse. Her mind played the scene again, his fingers on her thighs, his voice against her ear, the smug look in his eyes when he walked away.
Every touch burned like a brand.
She pressed a pillow to her face and groaned in frustration.
Why did her body betray her like that?
Why had his touch stirred something so deep, so primal inside her?
She didn’t want him. Not really. Or so she told herself. Again and again.
But her body remembered.
And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t un-feel the tension he left behind.
Ava rolled over, shutting her eyes, willing herself to forget. But her heart kept pounding. Her skin still tingled. Her thighs ached from wanting.
She cursed under her breath and flung the pillow aside, angry tears burning behind her eyes.
“Damn you, Damien,” she whispered hoarsely. “You’re driving me crazy.”
She tried to focus on something else. Anything. But the weight of her need pressed down, sharp and pulsing.
Her hand trembled slightly as it skimmed over her stomach, her breaths growing shallow. She closed her eyes, lips parting slightly.
She hated him.
She hated how he made her feel.
And yet, in that quiet room, with the taste of his voice still lingering in her ears, all she could do was give in to the storm he left behind.
She collapsed back on the bed moments later, her chest rising and falling heavily, eyes glazed and full of frustration. The room was quiet again, except for the sound of her uneven breathing.
And all she could think was,
How the hell am I going to survive this man?
- Writer
