“Damian’s Obsession” A Dark Romance

The Rules

Ch.3: The Rules

(Dual POV – Steamy Version)

Lena’s POV

The dress Marta left for me was black silk, clinging to my curves like a second skin. It was sleeveless, the neckline dipping just low enough to tease, the hem stopping mid-thigh. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my dark hair tumbling over my shoulders, my lips still swollen from where I’d bitten them in nerves.

I looked like sin.

And Damian Volkov was the devil.

A knock rattled the door. “Miss Valenti.” Marta’s voice was muffled. “Mr. Volkov is waiting.”

I exhaled sharply, squaring my shoulders. Fine. If he wants a doll, I’ll give him one. But I wouldn’t make it easy.

---

The dining room was a cavern of dark wood and candlelight, the table set for two, the air thick with the scent of wine and something darker—Damian’s cologne. He stood at the head of the table, his suit tailored to his broad shoulders, his cufflinks glinting like ice. His gaze raked over me as I entered, slow and deliberate, like a touch.

“You look…” His voice was a low purr. “Edible.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how he affected me. “I’d rather not be on the menu.”

His lips curled. “Oh, but you already are.”

I ignored the shiver that ran down my spine and slid into the chair opposite him. The dress rode up slightly as I sat, and his eyes flicked to my thighs before meeting mine again. I didn’t adjust it. Let him look.

He poured wine into my glass, his fingers brushing mine as he handed it to me. The contact was electric, a spark that made my breath catch. “Drink.”

I took a sip, the rich liquid burning its way down my throat. “Happy?”

“Not yet.” His voice was a dark promise. “But I will be.”

---

Dinner was a torture of tension. Every time I lifted my fork, his gaze followed the movement. Every time I took a sip of wine, his eyes lingered on my lips. The food was exquisite—seared steak, buttered asparagus, chocolate mousse—but I could barely taste it. My body was too aware of him, the way his thigh brushed mine under the table, the way his voice wrapped around me like silk.

“Tell me, Lena,” he murmured, swirling his wine. “Did your father warn you about me?”

I set my fork down. “He told me you were dangerous.”

“Did he?” Damian leaned forward, his elbow resting on the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “And did he tell you how?”

I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “He said you’d break me.”

Damian’s smile was slow, predatory. “He wasn’t wrong.”

A thrill of fear shot through me, but I didn’t look away. “Then why buy me?”

His eyes darkened. “Because you’re the only thing he loved.” He reached out, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. My breath hitched. “And I want to take everything from him.”

I should have pulled away. Should have slapped his hand aside. But I didn’t. I just stared at him, my pulse roaring in my ears.

His thumb pressed harder, parting my lips slightly. “Including you.”

I jerked back, my chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not yours.”

He stood in one fluid motion, his body crowding mine as he leaned over the table. “Aren’t you?” His voice was a whisper, his breath hot against my ear. “You signed the contract, milaya. Your body. Your time. Your obedience.” His hand slid to my throat, his thumb pressing against my pulse. “All mine.”

I should have been terrified. But all I felt was heat, pooling low in my stomach, my body betraying me. “Go to hell.”

His lips curved against my skin. “We’re already there.”

---

Damian’s fingers tightened slightly, his thumb tracing the flutter of my pulse. I could feel the heat of him, the hard planes of his body just inches from mine. My traitorous body leaned into his touch, my n*****s tightening beneath the silk of my dress.

He noticed.

His gaze dropped to my chest, his breath hitching slightly. “You like that, don’t you?” His voice was rough. “Being touched. Being owned.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I hate you.”

“Liar.” His mouth brushed the shell of my ear. “Your body doesn’t lie, Lena.”

I gasped as his teeth grazed my earlobe, a sharp sting followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue. My hands fisted in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

But my body had other ideas.

His hand slid from my throat to my shoulder, his fingers trailing down my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m cold.”

“No.” His voice was a dark chuckle. “You’re aroused.”

I hated that he was right.

His fingers found mine beneath the table, prying them open, intertwining our hands. His touch was possessive, his thumb rubbing slow circles over my knuckles. “You can fight me all you want, milaya. But we both know how this ends.”

I yanked my hand back, my chest heaving. “With me walking away.”

His smile was a blade. “With you begging.”

---

I stood abruptly, my chair toppling behind me. “I’m done.”

Damian didn’t move. Just watched me, his gaze burning into my skin. “You haven’t had dessert.”

“I’d rather starve.”

“Liar.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, silver key. “Here.”

I stared at it. “What’s that?”

“Your room.” He tossed it onto the table. “Lock the door if it makes you feel better. But remember—” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I have the master key.”

I snatched it up, my fingers trembling. “Stay away from me.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dark and hungry. “Make me.”

---

Damian’s POV

She was fire and ice, all at once.

I watched her from across the table, her chest rising and falling with every sharp breath, her lips parted just enough to drive me mad. The dress I’d chosen for her clung to every curve, the silk shimmering under the candlelight, her skin flushed with anger and something darker—desire.

She wanted to hate me.

But her body didn’t lie.

I reached out, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She jerked back, but not before I felt the heat of her breath, the way her pulse jumped beneath my touch. Good. Let her fight. I liked the chase.

“You’re mine, Lena,” I murmured, my voice rough. “Every inch of you.”

Her eyes flashed. “I’d rather die.”

I smiled. “Oh, milaya.” I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. “Death would be too kind.”

---

She stood so fast her chair fell, her chest heaving, her n*****s tight beneath the silk. My c**k hardened in response, the ache almost unbearable. I wanted to pin her to the table, to taste the defiance on her lips, to make her moan my name.

But not yet.

I tossed her the key to her room, watching as she snatched it up, her fingers trembling. “Lock the door,” I said, my voice a dark promise. “I dare you.”

She fled without another word, her hips swaying with every step, the dress hugging her ass in a way that made my blood burn. I gave her a ten-second head start before I followed.

---

Her door was locked.

I smiled.

I pressed my palm against the wood, my voice low. “You really think a lock can keep me out, Lena?”

Silence.

I could hear her breathing, the soft rustle of fabric as she moved away from the door. Good girl. Let her run. It would make the catch so much sweeter.

I turned the handle, the lock clicking open under my touch. The door swung inward, revealing Lena standing in the center of the room, her back pressed against the wardrobe, her eyes wide.

“How—?”

“I told you.” I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me. “I have the master key.”

She swallowed, her gaze darting to the bed. “Get out.”

I didn’t move. Just took her in—the way her chest rose and fell, the way her fingers clenched at her sides. She was terrified. And aroused. The scent of her—jasmine and something sweeter—filled the air, intoxicating.

“I want to show you something.” I held out my hand.

She didn’t take it. “I’d rather you leave.”

I stepped closer, crowding her space. “Would you?” My voice was a whisper, my lips brushing her temple. “Or would you rather I stay?”

Her breath hitched. “I hate you.”

“I know.” My hand slid to her waist, pulling her against me. She gasped as she felt the hard length of me through my slacks, her body stiffening. “But you want me.”

“No—”

I cut her off with a kiss.

Not gentle. Not sweet. Hungry.

My lips crashed against hers, my tongue demanding entrance. She resisted for a heartbeat—then melted, her hands fisting in my shirt as she kissed me back, her body arching into mine. I groaned, my hands sliding down to grip her ass, lifting her against me. She moaned into my mouth, the sound going straight to my c**k.

I walked her backward until her legs hit the bed, then tumbled her onto it, my body covering hers. She was soft and warm beneath me, her thighs parting as I settled between them, the silk of her dress riding up. My hand slid up her thigh, my thumb brushing the lace of her panties.

“Damian—” Her voice was a plea.

I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, my breath ragged. “Say it.”

Her lips parted, her eyes dark with need. “I—”

A sharp knock shattered the moment.

“Mr. Volkov.” Marta’s voice was muffled through the door. “You have a call. It’s urgent.”

I cursed, pressing my forehead to Lena’s. She was trembling, her lips swollen from my kiss, her body still arched beneath mine. Mine.

I pulled back, adjusting my slacks with a grimace. “This isn’t over.”

She sat up, her chest heaving, her fingers touching her lips like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. “It is for me.”

I smiled, dark and promising. “We’ll see.”

I straightened my jacket and turned toward the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. “Sweet dreams, milaya.” I glanced back at her, my gaze raking over her rumpled dress, her flushed skin. “You’ll be needing them.”