Chapter Four — Midnight Surrender
1611 Words
Elara's POV
The words on the phone in my hand burned like a dirty secret.
He was sharp and demanding with his stupid orders. Yet, the words stuck in my head, coupled with the ache that was between my legs from his fingers in the kitchen earlier.
He left me on the edge, panting like a slut, my body begging for release even after Mom had arrived home.
Now, hours later, the house had settled into a quiet evening. Mom was busy preparing dinner downstairs.
And my mind raced with filth.
His jealousy over Jake's text made my stomach flip as it was possessive.
And that file in his room? Dread mixed with want, a slow burn that had me wet and worried. What was he planning?
Dinner was family hell.
Mom made pasta and salad, chattering about her day out shopping. Victor grumbled about work delays.
His eyes flicked to Damien every now and then, like he sensed something.
Damien sat across from me.
His tie was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, exposing strong forearms that I remembered gripping me as he thrust hard into me that first night.
His gray eyes caught mine often, holding them too long, almost stripping me with the intense look.
Under the table, his foot busied with tracing my calf slowly, deliberately, and sending heat straight to my core.
"Can you pass the bread, Elara?" Mom asked, snapping me out of it.
“Yes,” I nodded.
My body moved.
I reached door it and handed it over to her with my fingers shaking slightly.
The smirk Damien gave me was tiny and hidden from them.
"So, Damien," Victor said, forking a helping of pasta. "How was you first day at the branch?”
“Good,” he replied, glancing at his father. I was grateful his gaze had shifted after so much time.
“How's it shaping up?"
Damien leaned back, casual power in every move. "Smooth so far.”
His father looked up.
“I met wjth the team and reviewed a lot of the files. There's lots of potential."
His voice was even, but his gaze slid to me, a dark promise in it.
My body tensed.
"Though I happened to find just a few interesting leverage points. Things that could... change everything."
Victor's fork paused.
"Leverage? On what?"
He shrugged.
"It is nust business talk, Dad."
But Damien's smile was cold.
"Nothing for you to worry about yet,” he added with a smile that didn't quiet reach his eyes. I could tell.
Mom laughed nervously, changing the subject to weekend plans. I stayed quiet, picking at my food, my thighs clenched under the skirt.
Every word from him felt like a tease even as his restless foot now moved higher, brushing my knee.
Heat built slowly inside of me until that ache was flaring. I wanted to hate him, this CEO stepbrother of mine.
He was digging into secrets that could ruin both of us, but my body remembered too well—his careful dominance when he realized I was a virgin, slowing to make me beg, then owning me completely.
After dinner, I helped to clear the plates while avoiding his help.
He helped anyways.
When he stacked dishes close, his arm brushed against mine.
"You smell good," he whispered in a low voice, his breath hot on my ear. "Like you're ready for me again."
I jerked away, my heart pounding. "Oh f**k off," I hissed quietly. But my stupid traitorous n*****s hardened.
“You don’t mean it.” He chuckled softly before following me to the sink.
Mom and Victor moved to the living room for TV, leaving us alone for a beat. He pressed behind me.
His body heat was searing, and his hardness was nudging my ass through the fabric of clothes between us.
"Midnight," he murmured. "Come on time. Don't make me chase you."
I spun, shoving a plate at him. "Or what? You'll tell them about the lounge? Ruin everything?"
His eyes darkened.
Then his hand was catching my wrist in a gentle but firm move.
"I don't ruin what's mine, Elara. I claim it, again and again if need be."
He released me slowly with the fingers trailing my skin leaving goosebumps. Then he walked out.
I was left me breathless, standing there with the sink water running.
Everything but him forgotten.
The evening dragged on. I hid in my room with my homework spread out before me but totally ignored.
Texts from Jake popped up on my phone while I was thinking.
I checked it.
[Study tomorrow at your place?]
My face flushed.
I was innocent but guilt hit me.
Damien's jealousy from earlier burned in my mind, causing me to delete the unsent reply that I made.
No more Jake for me. Instead, I paced the bedroom. The clock was ticking toward midnight rather slowly.
Would I survive?
The house quieted soon—Mom and Victor's door shut with lights off. The dread built and coiled in my gut.
Midnight was soon.
Shall I go to Damien as instructed?
What did he want to do? To f**k me hard and fast in the pool house? Or did he want to expose Victor's secrets and use me as the leverage?
It was a possibility.
But the want simmered too, and filthy memories of his c**k filled me. Also his groans when I came on him.
I had to go there.
At eleven fifty pm, I changed into a dark leggings and a tank top.
I wore no bra, telling myself that it was for comfort as I sneaked down the spirls stairs, heart in my throat.
The back door creaked softly when I stepped out. The cool night air hit my skin, the pool lights glowing dimly.
He was there.
Waiting.
The pool house was a small building with lounge chairs and a shower, and the entrance door was ajar.
I slipped in.
The darkness was thick, and so was the scent of the chlorine in the water, and him—spice and sweat.
Damien.
"You're late." His voice came from the shadows, low and rough.
I jumped.
My eyes adjusted quickly to the dark till I could see where he sat on a chair with his shirt unbuttoned halfway.
There was a glass of something dark in hand. Whiskey, probably. His gray eyes raked over me, hungry.
"Step sister, I thought I would have to come and drag you from your bed."
A hiccup shook my body.
"I shouldn't be here," I said. My voice shook. I stayed by the door. "This is wrong. You're my stepbrother."
He set the glass down. Then he stood up slowly and also closed the distance between us. He was so close.
But we were not touching. Yet he was close enough for his male heat to wrap around me like a warm cocoon.
"Wrong? You dripped for me in the car today. Begged harder in the kitchen." His finger traced my arm light, barely there, but it sent fire through me.
I swallowed, taking a step back from him. But the door stopped me.
"That file in your room—what are you doing with it? Is it leverage on Victor for some syndicate s**t?"
He paused. His eyes narrowed. Slow burn tension thickened the air. And his breath was steady as mine raced.
"Curious little stepsister, have you been snooping around already?"
He leaned in, lips near my ear. It caused me to shiver slightly.
"Victor's got debts, dirty ones. I'm here to clean the house... or burn it down."
Fear spiked inside of me. But so did the ache nestled low in my body.
"You'd ruin us? For what?"
His hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up gently but deliberately.
"It is not ruin. It is control," his voice dipped as he corrected me.
His thumb brushed my lip, parting them slightly so his fingers could slide into the depth of my hungry mouth.
I sucked in it. The dark look in his eyes intensified and he withdrew them.
"Elara, I control you. And that virgin p***y I took? It is mine now. No more flirting with boys like Jake."
Jealousy laced his voice. There was a dark romance in the threat. I gasped softly. My body leaned into his hard one without shame despite myself.
"Are you jealous of a study date?" I asked in a teasing voice.
He let out a low growl, pressing his hard c**k against my belly. "Jealous? I own you, Elara. Say it," he spat.
The words hung between us. My core was throbbing with the anticipation that was now building like a fever.
But I held back, fighting.
"No. I won't."
His eyes flashed dangerously as his hand slid to my neck. His thumb settled right over my pulse.
"You will.” I swallowed. “Before the night's over." Then he kissed me slowly, tongue teasing mine as the heat built in me without rush.
I melted a bit. My hands was on his chest, feeling the organ pound.
Pull away? Push harder? The burn was torture, yet delicious.
But a noise outside made me instantly freeze—it was footsteps.
"Someone is coming," I whispered as panic began rising inside me.
He pulled back, listening.
"Fuck." His voice turned cold and possessive. "You should hide.”
I nodded.
“Now!" he barked in a whisper.
My body moved.
The door creaked open, and light from the hallway spilled in. It was Victor's voice which cut into the night:
"Damien? Are you out here?"
My heart stopped.
Have we been caught already?
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