SOAKED IN HIS c*m: Wet Desires with My Ruthless Husband

Chapter 2: The Morning After

Mia’s POV

My body ached in the most delicious, sinful way when I woke up. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting a golden glow over the rumpled silk sheets. I was completely naked, my thighs sticky with Damien’s dried c*m, my p***y still tender and throbbing from the way he had claimed me again and again last night.

I thought I married a cold-hearted monster… but after everything he did to me, I was starting to question my own sanity. How could something so wrong feel so addictively good?

I tried to slip out of bed quietly, but a powerful arm snaked around my waist and yanked me back against a hard, muscular chest. Damien’s deep voice rumbled against my ear, sending unwanted heat straight to my core.

“Where do you think you’re going, wife?”

His thick morning erection pressed insistently against my ass. My breath hitched. Even after the brutal night we’d shared, my body betrayed me instantly — wetness pooling between my legs again.

“Damien… I need to shower,” I whispered, my voice still hoarse from screaming his name.

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through me. One large hand slid down my stomach and cupped my sore p***y possessively. His fingers teased my swollen folds but didn’t push inside. “You’ll shower when I say so. But first…”

Before he could continue, his phone rang sharply on the nightstand. Damien’s entire body tensed against mine. He reached over and answered it with ice-cold authority.

I watched his expression darken as he listened. His jaw clenched, eyes flicking toward me for a brief second before he hung up.

“Business,” he said curtly, already rolling out of bed and pulling on his pants. “One of my rivals is testing boundaries. Stay in the penthouse today. Do not leave without my permission.”

I sat up, clutching the sheet to my naked breasts. “I’m not your prisoner, Damien. This was supposed to be a contract, not a cage.”

He paused while buttoning his shirt, then stalked back to the bed. Towering over me, he gripped my chin firmly and forced me to meet his intense gaze. The kiss he gave me was hard, dominating, and possessive — a reminder of exactly who owned me now.

“You’re my wife,” he growled against my lips. “For the next year, you’re whatever I need you to be. Keep that p***y wet and ready for me when I return. I’m not finished with you yet.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone in the massive suite.

I collapsed back onto the pillows, heart racing. How could I already crave a man who treated me like property? Last night he had ruined me so thoroughly that I still felt him with every movement. Yet the cold way he issued orders reminded me this wasn’t love — it was a transaction. One I had willingly signed.

After forcing myself into the shower, I tried to wash away the evidence of his touch. But the hot water only made me more aware of the soreness between my legs and the confusing ache in my chest.

I had just stepped out and wrapped myself in a robe when my phone buzzed on the counter.

Unknown Number: You think marrying Damien Voss will save your father? Cute. The debt isn’t forgiven. Watch your back, new Mrs. Voss.

My blood ran cold. I stared at the message, fingers trembling. Who was this? How did they know about the contract?

Before I could even begin to process the threat, the penthouse door burst open with a loud bang. Damien stormed back in, eyes blazing with fury. His knuckles were bruised and bloody, and there was a fresh tear in the collar of his shirt.

“Change of plans,” he growled, crossing the room in three strides and yanking me against his hard chest. His hand immediately slid under my robe, fingers finding my still-dripping core as he kissed me hungrily, almost desperately.

I gasped into his mouth, my body responding even as fear coiled in my stomach.

But as heat flared between us again, the anonymous warning echoed in my mind.

Who was threatening us?

And how deep was the dangerous world I had married into?