Chapter2
1224 Words
I told myself I wasn’t going to say yes.
That no amount of desperation would push me that far.
But by midnight, I was in a black car with tinted windows, wearing a dress I didn’t pick and heels I didn’t own. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a warning I couldn’t ignore.
This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the girl who sold her body for survival. I wasn’t the kind of woman who let herself be used and forgotten.
But tonight... I had to be.
Because my mother’s life was hanging in the balance and I couldn’t watch her die just because I had pride.
The driver didn’t speak. He handed me a card when I got in. Gold foil. One word printed in the center
The elevator opened with a quiet chime, revealing a hallway wrapped in dim lighting and thick silence. But it wasn’t until the door to the suite opened that I truly forgot how to breathe.
It was breathtaking.
Walls of glass framed the city skyline like living artwork, the view stretching endlessly across glittering buildings and dark velvet sky. The suite was impossibly spacious, every detail tailored, expensive, unapologetically sensual.
Dark oak floors gleamed beneath my heels, muffling my steps as I moved deeper inside. A fire flickered in a sleek black hearth, casting gold over deep navy walls and sculpted art pieces that felt more erotic than decorative. The scent of something masculine leather, sandalwood, and heat hung thick in the air.
The bed sat at the center like a throne, enormous and draped in sheets the color of champagne. Satin. Pure. Untouched. My pulse quickened at the thought.
To the left, a vintage bar gleamed with amber-colored spirits, crystal decanters catching the firelight like liquid jewels. Everything was warm, shadowed, and intimate like the room was holding its breath, waiting for something sinful to happen.
Even the silence was seductive. It was too beautiful for words, too still for innocence.
I knew then: this wasn’t just a room.
This was a trap wrapped in silk and temptation.
And I had just stepped into the lion’s den
Woods.
The name felt heavy. Like something whispered behind closed doors. Powerful. Untouchable.
I’d heard of Damian Woods. Who hadn’t?
He was the heir to the Woods fortune, private, lethal, and sinfully rich. No scandals. No attachments. Just rumors of women who vanished from his life as quickly as they entered it.
He didn’t date. He didn’t love me. He simply... collected moments. And tonight, I was one of them.
When the car stopped, I expected a mansion. A hotel. A penthouse with gold-plated walls.
Instead, I was dropped at a private estate on the outskirts of the city. Massive iron gates. Trees that shielded it from view. The air smelled like rain and roses.
I was ushered in silently.
No questions. No names.
My heels echoed against marble as I was led to a room with double doors and a single instruction:
“Wait. He’ll be with you shortly.”
So I waited.
Alone. Wrapped in satin and nerves.
Then I heard him.
Footsteps. Slow. Measured. The kind of steps a man makes when he’s used to owning everything he walks toward.
The doors opened. And there he was.
Damian Woods.
Tall. Impossibly handsome. A tailored black suit that clung to broad shoulders and a jaw that looked like it could cut glass. But it was his eyes that froze me dark, calculating, unreadable.
And yet, something in them... flickered.
Desire? Recognition? I didn’t know.
He didn’t speak right away. Just walked toward me, slow and deliberate. My breath caught in my throat.
"You’re not what I expected," he said, voice smooth like warm whiskey.
“I could say the same,” I whispered.
He smirked and then reached for me.
No introduction. No contract. Just the touch of his hand against my waist, possessive and warm, pulling me closer like I already belonged to him.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
I nodded, but it felt like a lie. Because whatever I thought this would be it wasn’t. It was more dangerous. More intoxicating.
“Then don’t speak,” he murmured. “Just feel.”
And I did.
His mouth found mine with shocking gentleness like he was testing something. My resolve. My fear. My willingness to surrender.
And when I didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, hungry and demanding. Like he’d waited a lifetime for this moment and wasn’t going to waste a second.
My hands moved without permission, gripping his shoulders, then his chest. His body was hard. Hot. Real.
And for the first time in so long... I didn’t feel broken. I felt wanted. Devoured.
But in the pit of my stomach, something twisted.
Because this wasn’t supposed to mean anything.
And yet, it already did.
His lips moved from mine, trailing along my jaw, down the column of my throat. Every breath I took trembled, every inch of skin he touched burned hotter than the last. My body betrayed me before my mind could catch up arching into him, aching for more.
His hands were slow and deliberate, unzipping the back of my dress, the sound loud in the quiet room. His voice was velvet when he spoke.
“If you want me to stop, say it now.”
But I couldn’t. My voice was buried beneath the wildfire of need. I gave him no protest, only a nod of silent permission in the dark.
The dress slipped from my shoulders, pooling around my ankles like liquid silk. I was standing there, almost bare, heart pounding out of rhythm. But there was no judgment in his eyes, only hunger. Reverence.
He drank me in like I was the finest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
He kissed my shoulder, then lower, slow, sensual, every touch a promise. I felt worshipped like I’d never been before. His hands found my thighs, spreading me open with quiet authority, lifting me onto the edge of the bed like I weighed nothing.
He knelt between my legs, still clothed, his eyes locked with mine as his lips traveled places that made my breath catch and my back arch.
I gasped, shocked by the sensation, the intimacy, the way he read my body like he already knew me.
“I want to remember every sound you make,” he murmured.
And I gave him what he asked for.
When he finally undressed, he did it slowly teasing me with glimpses of smooth muscle, hard lines, and tattoos I hadn’t expected. He was carved like a god. Dangerous, yes, but divine.
Our bodies collided, fevered and frantic, then slowed, deeper, until everything else faded the scheme, the lie, even my name.
It didn’t feel like a transaction.
It felt like surrender.
And when he whispered my name in the dark like a secret he wanted to keep, I knew something had shifted.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
But I let it go.
All of it.
Even when I knew I’d never be the same after tonight, I'll never have complete peace. I'll always long for this touch ever since… doesn't matter though, i just know ill keep yearning
- Writer
