His Terms

*Chapter 7: No Going Back*

*Elena*

The jet was quiet. Too quiet.

Damian hadn’t let go of her hand since takeoff. He was working on his laptop like the last forty-eight hours hadn’t happened, but his thumb kept moving against her knuckles.

She was twenty-one and sitting on a private jet with a man who’d kissed her in his office like he meant to ruin her.

Her phone had died somewhere over the city. Josh had stopped calling.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Somewhere with no campus,” he said, not looking up. “No boyfriend. No interruptions.”

Her stomach twisted. “That’s not an answer.”

He finally looked at her. “It’s the only one you’re getting.”

The cabin was dim. He stood, shut the door to the small bedroom in the back. When he came back he didn’t sit across from her. He sat next to her.

“Last chance,” he said. Voice low. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

She stared at his mouth. At the faint mark on his collar she’d put there last night.

She didn’t say it.

He didn’t ask again.

His hand went to the back of her neck and pulled her in. The kiss was different this time. No hesitation. No pretending this was a mistake. His mouth was hot, demanding, and she opened for him because she was done fighting it.

His other hand slid under her dress, up her thigh, slow. Like he was checking she wouldn’t stop him.

She didn’t.

“Damian,” she said against his mouth. His name felt illegal.

“Look at me,” he said, pulling back just enough. His eyes were dark. “This is what you want?”

“Yes.”

He stood and pulled her up with him. The bedroom was small. A bed. Nothing else.

He pushed her against the wall first. Kissed her like he was angry at her for wanting this. His hands were everywhere. Dress pushed up. Fingers under the strap, dragging it down her shoulder.

“Too many clothes,” he muttered, and then he was undoing her zipper.

She helped him. Because waiting was worse.

When she was bare under him, when his mouth was on her neck, her chest, she stopped thinking about Josh. About campus. About anything except how his hands felt and how he said her name like he’d been holding it in for days.

He laid her down. Took his time. Like he was memorizing her.

When he was inside her, it was slow at first. Then it wasn’t. His grip on her hip was hard enough to bruise. His mouth on hers to catch every sound she made.

“Elena,” he said, thrusting harder. “Say it.”

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. “Yours.”

He came with her name on his lips and didn’t let go of her after.

*Damian*

He shouldn’t have brought her on the jet.

He’d told himself it was to get her away from the city. From distractions. From the boyfriend who’d start showing up at the tower if he let him.

The truth was worse. He couldn’t be in the same room as her for five more minutes without touching her.

When she didn’t say no, he was finished.

He kissed her until she was shaking. Undressed her like he had all week to think about it. Because he had.

She was soft. Responsive. Saying his name like it didn’t scare her.

“Damian,” she gasped when he was inside her.

He drove into her harder at that. Because she said it like she meant it. Like he was the only one in the room.

“Yours,” she said later, clinging to him.

It was the most dangerous word she could’ve given him.

After, he kept her there. Didn’t let her dress. Didn’t let her pretend it was just one time. He held her against his chest while the jet cut through the clouds, and he didn’t feel guilty.

He felt right.

And that scared him more than anything.

---