Morning light slips into the room like satin, pooling over tangled sheets and intertwined bodies. The air still hums with the mingled scents of last night's incense and sweat.
Elena's eyes flutter open. Her body feels like it has survived a prolonged battle—aching and limp, every inch of skin a reminder that she surrendered to the man she vowed never to touch again.
Damien leans against the headboard, a coffee cup in hand. Golden sunlight spills across his bare torso, sculpting the ridges of his muscles. He looks infuriatingly content, like a wolf that has just devoured its prey.
She yanks the blanket over her naked chest, voice hoarse and cold: "Last night was a mistake."
"If it was a mistake," he murmurs, inching closer as his fingertips hook the edge of the blanket, "why did your body scream so honestly?"
She glares at him. "Damien, I'm not some ex you can toy with at will."
"True enough." He dips his head to her ear, his tone both seductive and dangerous. "You're the woman I haven't truly claimed yet."
She scoffs, about to rise and dress, when he pins her back to the mattress, his body covering hers. He parts her legs with a knee and dips to bite a love bite on her collarbone—evidence of last night's hunger.
"Drop the act, Elena," he growls, his hand already sliding between her thighs to knead her newly sensitive flesh. "You never intended to run the moment you stepped into my room."
She tries to resist, but his fingers are already working her—rubbing, sliding, teasing, each motion deeper than the last. Her defiance crumbles into breathless gasps.
He lowers his mouth to her nipple, circling the taut peak with his tongue before sucking it deep, his technique a masterclass in control and provocation. She arches her neck, nails digging into the muscles of his back.
"You love being tortured like this." As he speaks, he eases into her, carrying the wildness from the night before.
Her moans mix shame and ecstasy as his thrusts pound hard and precise, each stroke hitting her deepest core as if carving his name into her body. He seizes her arms, flips her onto her stomach, and wraps his arms around her from behind, penetrating her at a deeper, tighter angle. She bites the pillow to muffle her cries, but orgasm after orgasm crashes over her like waves, eroding her sanity.
Biting her earlobe, he whispers: "The more you run, the more I'll break you until you can't leave."
After the climax, she lies in his arms, panting, her body still trembling. But her mind begins to clear.
"I need to go. I have work." She tries to pull away.
"You wouldn't want to miss today's meeting." His voice is casual, his gaze cool and meaningful.
She freezes. "What do you mean?"
He stands, pulls on a shirt, and tosses a document onto the bed. She picks it up, her face draining of color.
Hawke Group has become the controlling shareholder of her largest perfume manufacturing plant.
"You've been monitoring my supply chain?"
"Call it 'optimizing partnerships.'" He smiles, his tone so elegant it's terrifying. "You're too independent, Elena. I'm just securing a safer foundation for your career."
"You want to control me."
He leans down to brush a kiss against her lips. "I'm protecting you—my way."
She knows the game has spiraled out of control. He wants not just her body, but her lifeline. And the most terrifying truth? Her body is already craving more of this dangerous 沉溺 (indulgence)