In Between Her Legs.

Chapter Seven: Ruin Me

I don’t sleep.

Not after what Damien did to me.

Not after the way he stripped me bare mind, body, and soul and took what he wanted, leaving me wrecked, trembling, and utterly his.

I stare at the ceiling, my body sore, my skin still burning from the imprint of his touch. I should feel shame. Regret. Anything other than the unbearable need curling low in my stomach.

But I don’t.

I crave him.

Like a sickness. Like a drug.

And as if he knows because of course, he does my phone vibrates on the nightstand.

Damien: Open your door. Now.

My breath catches.

No hesitation this time.

I slip from the bed, my legs weak beneath me, my pulse hammering as I reach for the lock. When the door swings open, he’s standing there, his dark suit immaculate, his gaze cutting through me like a blade.

"You didn’t think I was done with you, did you?" His voice is a slow, delicious threat.

I swallow hard. "I"

"Don’t speak."

His fingers are on my chin, tilting my face up, forcing me to meet those unreadable, storm-dark eyes.

"You will learn, Selena," he murmurs, stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet, deliberate click. "You don’t get to walk away from me. Not after what you let me do to you last night."

A shiver races down my spine.

He moves closer, backing me up against the nearest wall, his hand sliding to my throat, not squeezing, just resting, just promising.

"I left you shaking in my bed." His thumb drags over my lower lip. "Dripping with me. Ruined for anyone else. And still…" His lips brush against mine, teasing. "I don’t think you understand what belonging to me means."

I can’t breathe.

Can’t think.

His hand slides lower, over my chest, down my stomach, slipping beneath the hem of my silk nightgown.

"Should I remind you?"

A low sound escapes me half a whimper, half a plea.

"Yes," I whisper, my fingers digging into his suit jacket. "Please."

His control snaps.

In the next breath, he’s spinning me around, pressing me against the cold surface of the mirror, his body a solid heat against mine.

"Hands flat," he orders, his voice like crushed velvet. "Legs apart."

I obey.

God help me, I obey without question.

He strips me with practiced ease, my nightgown sliding to the floor, leaving me bare, vulnerable, exposed to his wicked hands.

"Look at yourself," he commands, his fingers trailing down my spine, over the curve of my ass. "See what I do to you."

I meet my own reflection flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes filled with a dark, reckless hunger.

Damien smirks. "Perfect."

And then he destroys me.

He bends me to his will, his mouth, his hands, his ruthless, unrelenting need claiming every inch of me until I’m nothing but gasps and moans, my body trembling under his. He gives no mercy. Takes no pause. He f***s me like a man possessed, like he owns me, and maybe he does.

By the time he’s finished, I’m shaking, boneless, my legs barely holding me up.

He turns me around, tilting my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

"You’re mine, Selena," he murmurs, his voice a promise. "Say it."

I hesitate.

His grip tightens, just enough to make my breath hitch.

"Say it."

I lick my lips, my body still throbbing from his touch.

"I’m yours."

His smirk is slow. Satisfied.

"Good girl."

And just like that Damien Sinclair owns me.