In Between Her Legs.

Chapter Ten: Worship Me

I don’t remember how long I stay slumped against the glass, blindfolded, wrists bound, my body trembling from the relentless pleasure Damien just forced out of me.

All I know is that he isn’t finished.

Not even close.

His hands skim over my bare, sensitive skin, his touch possessive. Slow. Like he’s savoring the power he has over me.

"You did well, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft, deceptively sweet kiss to my shoulder. "But I’m not done with you."

His fingers slip beneath the blindfold, tugging it away. My vision is hazy, my breaths uneven as the city lights swim into focus again.

I feel weightless. Completely untethered.

And then he’s undoing the cuffs, his hands gentle as he brings my wrists down, massaging them. Kissing them.

Like he’s thanking me for letting him restrain me.

My heart stammers.

And then

"On your knees."

His voice shifts. Darker. Sharper.

I shiver.

My body obeys before my mind catches up.

I sink to the floor, the cool marble biting against my bare skin. Damien stands before me, looming, his tie loosened, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the hint of his sculpted chest.

His belt is open.

His pants undone.

And his c**k thick, hard, pulsing with restrained hunger rests heavy against his stomach.

I swallow hard, my mouth already watering.

"You know what I want," he says, his voice controlled, but there’s an edge to it now. A warning.

A need.

I lift my hands, but he stops me with a shake of his head.

"Not yet."

His fingers thread into my hair, gripping just enough to tilt my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes.

"I want you to look at me first," he murmurs. "I want to see the moment you accept what you are to me."

I can’t breathe.

I can only burn.

Because I know what he’s waiting for.

Submission.

Not the hesitant, shaky kind.

The deep, desperate surrender. The kind that breaks past the fear and leaves only raw, aching devotion.

I part my lips. "I’m yours, Sir."

His breath hitches. Just slightly.

Then his restraint shatters.

"Good girl."

His grip tightens in my hair, guiding me forward. His other hand wraps around the thick base of his c**k, stroking once before tapping the swollen tip against my lips.

"Open."

I do.

And the second my mouth parts, he pushes inside.

My moan vibrates around him, my fingers digging into my own thighs as he fills me, the taste of salt and heat and pure, masculine dominance spreading across my tongue.

"f**k," he grits out, his head tilting back as he sinks deeper. "That’s it. Take me, baby."

I hollow my cheeks, sucking, my tongue swirling around the head, teasing, coaxing.

He groans, his free hand tangling in my hair, his grip firm but careful.

"You can do better," he murmurs, his eyes dark, daring. "More."

I want to please him. I need to please him.

I relax my throat, pushing down, taking him deeper, deeper until I gag.

His body jerks.

"Fuck." His voice is raw, almost shattered.

And then he snaps.

His hips surge forward, forcing me to take every inch. I choke, my eyes watering, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

He’s thrusting now, f*****g my mouth, his c**k sliding over my tongue, hitting the back of my throat over and over, each stroke more ruthless than the last.

"You feel that?" he growls. "That’s what happens when you give yourself to me. No hesitation. No limits. Just this."

His pleasure.

His control.

His ownership.

Tears stream down my cheeks.

I love it.

His fingers tighten in my hair, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. "You’re f*****g perfect," he groans. "So good. So f*****g good"

Then he rips himself away.

A whimper escapes me before I can stop it.

He cups my jaw, his thumb dragging over my wet lips. "Not yet, baby," he murmurs. "I’m not done using that perfect body of yours."

His hands move lower, cupping my breasts, his thumbs flicking over my already hardened n*****s.

"You know what I want next, don’t you?" His smirk is slow, wicked. "Put them together for me."

Heat flares through me.

I obey, pressing my breasts together, creating a tight, slick valley between them.

His breath is ragged as he slides between them, his c**k gliding over my soft skin, my own saliva mixing with the heat of him.

"f**k," he groans. "Look at you. So f*****g eager to be used."

I moan, pressing tighter, moving with him, every stroke making him shudder.

"You feel that?" he pants. "The way your body belongs to me in every way?"

I nod, dazed, desperate.

His fingers tangle in my hair again, forcing me to look up at him as he moves faster, harder.

"Say it."

"I’m yours," I gasp.

"Louder."

"I’m yours, Damien!"

He snaps.

A guttural growl rips from his throat as his c**k pulses between my breasts, his body shuddering.

I watch, mesmerized, as he comes thick ropes of heat painting my skin, his jaw clenched, his abs tightening as he loses himself in me.

It’s beautiful.

Raw.

Possessive.

And when he finally stills, when his breaths are ragged and his grip loosens, I realize

I’m completely wrecked for him.

And he knows it.