An Heir Before Dusk

Chapter 2: Owned by the Mafia Prince

Chapter 2: Owned by the Mafia Prince

Emilia’s body was still trembling, her breathing ragged as Damian pulled his fingers from her, his touch leaving a scorching trail along her skin. Her mind screamed at her to fight back, to push him away, but her body? It betrayed her, yearning for more.

She was still pinned against the cold glass, the city lights illuminating her flushed cheeks, her pupils blown wide with desire. Damian watched her with predatory satisfaction, his smirk deepening as he brought his slick fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact.

Heat coiled in her stomach at the sinful sight. The way his tongue flicked over his fingers, tasting her, claiming her without hesitation—it was obscene. And it was turning her on even more.

“You’re already mine,” he murmured, voice husky as he ran his hands up her thighs, dragging her dress further up until it bunched around her waist. “Your body knows it, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“f**k you,” she spat, her voice shaking—not from anger, but from the way his fingers danced over the lace of her panties, teasing, tormenting.

“Oh, you will,” he purred, pressing his lips to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as his hands gripped her thighs, hoisting her up. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the hard, demanding length of him through his slacks. A gasp escaped her lips as he rolled his hips against her, the friction sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.

Damian chuckled darkly. “You feel that, don’t you?” he whispered, dragging his tongue along the shell of her ear. “You’re soaking for me, and I haven’t even f****d you yet.”

Emilia hated him. Hated the way her body melted under his touch, the way his voice alone made her thighs clench with need. She should be resisting. She should be fighting. But when he tore her panties off with a single, effortless motion, all thoughts of defiance evaporated.

He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. “Tell me to stop,” he taunted, his fingers brushing her entrance, spreading her wetness. “Say the words, and I’ll walk away.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came. She should say it. She should push him away.

But she didn’t.

A slow, sinful smirk stretched across his face. “That’s what I thought.”

Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside her, curling them just right, dragging a moan from her throat. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he thrust, slow and deep, making her feel every inch, every delicious stroke.

“Damian,” she gasped, her body arching against him, her walls clenching around his fingers.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxed, his thumb circling her c**t, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. “Come for me.”

Her body obeyed before her mind could process it, pleasure hitting her in an uncontrollable, violent wave. She cried out, her thighs tightening around his waist as she shattered in his arms, pleasure pulsing through her like fire.

Damian held her through it, his grip possessive, unrelenting. When her shudders subsided, he pulled his fingers from her slowly, savoring every last twitch of her overstimulated body.

But he wasn’t finished.

His gaze darkened as he unbuckled his belt, the sound alone making her breath hitch. “I hope you’re not too exhausted,” he murmured, freeing himself, his thick, hard length pressing against her soaked entrance. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

And then, with one swift thrust, he buried himself inside her, claiming her in the way he had promised.

Emilia had never felt anything so deep, so consuming.

And worst of all?

She never wanted it to stop.