by Madison Faye
“Trust me, little girl,” I growl, knowing it’s taking every single bit of my restraint not to press her against the wall and take her right here. “Trust me when I say you’ve definitely found trouble.”
I doubt she’s actually a thief here to steal some of my art. I am curious why she’s here in my office though, not to mention, who the hell she is. These are all questions I certainly plan on finding the answers to.
I pull her across the office and around my desk.
“Sit,” I growl, pointing to my desk and standing there with my arms crossed over my chest.
She bites her lip, those big blue eyes looking up at me before she crosses her arms over her own chest, like she’s mimicking me.
“Why?”
Something blazes up inside of me. I should be furious at the back-talk. It’s something no sane person who knows me or works for me would ever try. But there’s something about this bratty little sass back from her that ignites a fire inside of me.
She’s younger than I thought she was, looking at her now face-to-face, illuminated by the glow of the city behind me. She’s trying to hide it with those grown up heels and that dress that’s about half an inch shy of being slutty, but there’s a freshness to her that gets my blood pumping even hotter.
“Because I said so,” I growl, my eyes flashing as I take a step towards her. She swallows, her cheeks flushing pink.
She’s already mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet. She’s been mine ever since she stepped into the party downstairs, but stepping into this office — into my lair — has cemented it. And it’s not in an aggressive, angry way — the way I take most things that are mine to take in this world. In fact, being alone with her in this room brings a sort of peace to my mind that I can’t even remember feeling before.
Being with her feels like perfection. Sharing that moment, it’s like suddenly the world just makes more sense — like she was made to be mine. I pull her against me, and when she gasps and falls into me, hands against my chest, I know I was right. I know without hesitation that this angel is mine and only mine. Her lips were made to feel mine against them. Her breath was made for me to steal away. Her body was made to arch against me — to wrap around me and take me inside. And that magnetic power she’s got between her legs was made for my cock — made for taking every inch of me and swallowing every drop of cum I can give her.
It’s just something I know, like it’s been set out by fate. And the way she moans so sweetly as I pull her against me tells me she knows it too.
I kiss her with everything I have, my lips searing hot against hers as I swallow her moans. She resists for one half a second before she’s melting into me — her hands tightening on my tuxedo jacket and her body pressing into me. She whimpers as I pry her lips open with my tongue, demanding entrance and claiming what’s mine.
My hands slide down her body, wrapping around her and pulling her so tight to me that she’d never get away. She moans quietly, her breath catching as I kiss her fiercely, and when my hands slide down to cup that perfect little ass of hers through her dress, she whimpers with need.
My cock lurches as her body writhes against mine, every single cell in my body demanding what it’s owed — demanding it’s prize. Finally, reluctantly, I pull away from the kiss, and the way she just lingers there in that moment another second with her eyes closed captivates something in me.
She opens them, and then she blushes, realizing I’m staring at her. She looks away, like she’s embarrassed, but I move my hand up to cup her chin softly. I tilt her head up until those big blue eyes are locked with mine.
“Do you know who I am, my little burglar?”
She nods, swallowing quickly, her eyes darting over my face.
“You don’t have to be scared, baby girl,” I purr, leaning down and kissing her softly. “Not of me, and not of anything in this world so long as I’m standing. Do you understand?”
She bites her lip, swollen and red from our kiss, but not as swollen as they will be. Her eyes sparkle as I hold them with mine.
“What’s your name, angel?”
She hesitates for a second, and I’m trying to decipher what that means, when she opens her lips.
“Lyra,” she says quietly.
“I’m Damien,” I growl lowly, pulling her close.
“I know,” she whispers.
“Just like you knew about my art collection.”
She blushes again, and she starts to look away when I tilt her head up and lean in close.
“You came for the paintings, angel, but I’ve come for a different work of art.”
She gasps as I push her back gently, until her ass comes again the edge of my desk. I scoop her up, swallowing her moans with my lips as I set her down on the polished wood surface.
“You,” I growl. “Forget the rest of these pieces. You’re the only work of art I want to see tonight, or ever.” She whimpers as I move in again, spreading her legs to either side of my hips as I move against her and claim her lips with mine.
“Show me, baby girl,” I groan softly into her lips. “Show me everything.”
3
Lyra
My head spins as he kisses me, my whole body coming alive like it’s never done before at the feel of his lips on mine. He’s firm and yet gentle at the same time — demanding and yet worshipping in his kiss and in his touch.
This is really happening.
The man I’ve secretly found irresistible from a distance and who I’ve wantonly fantasized about is really right here with his arms around me and kissing me like I’m his. I whimper as his big arms circle me protectively, pulling me against him and letting me feel all of his hard, muscled body as it coils against me.
And deep down, as naughty as it is, I know this is why I really came here tonight. The darkest part of me knows sneaking in here for the art was just the excuse I told myself. I know the good girl that I am came here to take in fabulous masterpieces that hardly anyone sees. But I know the bad girl that simmers right beneath the surface secretly hoped and fantasized that this is what would really happen here tonight.
That he’d catch me. That dark, dangerous, gorgeous, dominant, much older, sexy as hell Damien Castle would find me here.
…And never let me go.
He groans as his tongue swirls with mine, his big hands holding me tight as I moan into his mouth. Part of me wants to tell him everything. Part of me wants to tell him who I really am, and why I’m here tonight, but I can’t. I can’t because I’m scared saying anything at all will wake me up, and I’ll realize that sitting here kissing Damien in the dark of his office is all a dream.
He pulls away, sucking my bottom lip between his as he does and leaving me aching for more.
“Show me, baby girl,” he growls, his eyes full of green fire as they pierce into mine. He steps away, shrugging his tuxedo jacket off and draping it over the back of his chair. I swallow, my eyes taking in his hard-packed, muscled body as it strains in all the right places under his crisp white shirt. He loosens his bow tie and pops the top two buttons of his shirt, and my eyes slip over the tattoo ink that’s bared to me.
“Show you what?” I whisper, my pulse roaring in my ears as he moves back into me.
“Everything,” he purrs. “There’s only one piece of art I wanted to see ever since you stepped into my world downstairs,” he growls softly. His lips brush my ear as his hands slide up bare thighs, tugging slightly at my dress. “You’ve captivated me, in a way nothing in this world ever has before. Not power, or wealth, or any of it.”
“You’re a man who gets what he wants,” I say quietly.
Damian smiles in this way that sends a pulse of heat right between my legs.
“I’m glad you understand that.”
“And you want me?”
“Every inch of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear and making me hold back the moan. The masculine scent of him teases over me, making my head spin, and the raw power he exudes has my who
le body tingling.
“And if I say no?” I breathe out.
“You won’t,” he growls, both of us knowing he’s entirely correct. My whole body aches for him - my nipples spiking to little points under my dress and my thighs quickly becoming slick and wet as my need for him soaks right through my panties.
And I know he can tell.
I tremble as his lips brush my cheek, his hands moving to my thighs.
“I could scream,” I barely whisper out, my whole body aching for more of his touch.
“Oh, baby girl,” he murmurs, a small chuckle rumbling from his lips and into my skin.
“I can promise you that you will.”
I barely have time to moan before his lips crash into mine. The room spins and the whole world goes topsy-turvy as his tongue and his lips captivate mine, drawing the breath from my lungs and making me melt into him.
His hands push my dress higher as they drag over my thighs, higher still until I can feel the thick bulge of him pressing right against my soaked panties. He groans, his hips pushing against me as one hand slides down my inner thigh and moves up. I gasp as his finger drags over the edge of my panties, making my skin tingle and ache for more. He drags his thick finger over the front of my panties, and I cry out, my hands clutching at him as he rubs me there.
“See how wet you are for me, baby girl?” he purrs, his teeth nipping at my earlobe. “See how much this little pussy wants to come out and play?”
I whimper, holding him tightly as his drags his finger up and down my slit. Slowly, he pulls away, leaving me panting and yearning for more. His eyes flash as he moves back, slowly sitting in his big leather office chair and steepling his hands in front of him. His eyes drag over my body, that gaze like a hot, teasing lover’s touch, until they reach my eyes.
“Spread your legs, angel,” he growls. I shiver, feeling his eyes sear into me, sending a heated thrill through me.
“Spread your pretty legs and show me what I want to see.”
And slowly, I do what he says. I want to say I do it because I know I’m powerless to resist him. But the truth is, that rough, edged darkness in his voice and the captivating, possessive way he speaks and looks at me stirs something wicked and aching inside.
The truth is, I do it because I don’t want to resist him.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I meet his eyes. My nipples spike to little points under my dress, and when his eyes move down to hungrily drag over my breasts, I like the way it makes me feel. That gaze makes me feel like he wants to tear my clothes off and ram his cock into me until I can’t walk straight, but also like he wants to wrap me in his arms and protect me from the entire world.
And slowly, I spread my legs.
Damien groans as I part them, the little black dress riding higher and higher until it tugs around my waist. I’m wearing a dark green thong, and I watch his eyes flare up with something fierce as they center between my legs. He groans, his jaw tightening.
“Such a naughty girl,” he purrs. “Look at how wet your little pussy is for me. Look at how soaked you’ve made your panties.”
I whimper, his filthy words making my head spin. His hand drops to the immense bulge tenting the front of his pants, and I can feel my pulse spike as my eyes land on it.
“Show me,” he growls. “Pull those panties to the side and show me that pretty little pussy.”
And I do, without hesitation. I whimper, my hand sliding down over the front of my dress and over my exposed thighs. My finger slips under the sticky edge of the panties, clinging wetly to every detail of my lips, and slowly, I pull them to the side.
Damien groans.
“So fucking perfect, angel,” he growls, his eyes flashing fire. He moves his chair closer, and when his eyes drag up to mine, his hand follows. His finger slides into my long gingery hair, tangling in it and tugging me down. I moan, letting him pull me to his mouth and kiss me deeply.
“Play with your pussy, baby girl,” he growls into my lips, swallowing my moans as his other hand pushes my knees wide apart on his desk. “Play with your naughty little pussy for Daddy.”
4
Lyra
Daddy.
The word hits me like a bolt of heated lightning right to my core, sending a throb of raw need between my legs. It feels filthy, and so unbelievably dirty, but at the same time, there’s no denying how damn sexy it sounds coming from his lips. Filthy and dirty, yes, but the word also fills me with something else — something I’m not sure I’ve really ever felt, what with an emotionally absent mother and the cold indifference of my stepfather.
Love.
It’s a sexy, heated, gets-me-hot-in-all-the-right-places kind of love, but it’s there, and I can’t deny how it makes me feel.
Damien growls, his hand skimming up my leg as he uses the other one in my hair to tug me down to his lips again.
“You like that, don’t you baby girl?” he purrs. “I could feel your pulse skip under your skin, and I can see your sweet little pussy glistening even wetter for me.”
“Yes,” I whimper softly, moaning as he kisses my jaw. And I do. It’s filthy and dirty, but him saying it also makes me feel so insanely protected and so surrounded by tenderness that I almost want to just jump into his lap, throw my arms around him, and never move from that position.
“Good,” he groans, his hand stroking my leg and making me shiver. “Now be a good girl and play with that pretty pussy for Daddy.”
My head is still spinning from it all as he pulls away, sitting back in his chair and letting his eyes melt over me. He nods, and I don’t hesitate. I don’t stop and think about what I’m doing, sitting in this much older man’s office, on his desk, with my panties to the side as I show him my most intimate place — a place no one’s ever been, or even seen before. My hand slides down to join the one holding my soaked panties to the side, and slowly, with Damien watching me, I let my fingers tease over my body.
I whimper as they glide over the slick heat covering my lips. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been before — so wet that it drips from my slit down between my legs to smear on his desk. Damien growls, his hand moving back to his lap as he watches my finger drag up through my pink folds, until it bumps over my clit and I cry out.
“Fuck, angel,” he groans, and when his hands move to his zipper, I feel my whole body quiver in anticipation.
“So fucking beautiful,” he purrs as he pulls his fly down, his eyes locked on me as he slips his hand inside. Slowly, he pulls his hand back out, and when he does, my jaw practically hits the desk.
Oh. My. God.
He’s so big — and I know I’ve got nothing to compare it to, but he could easily fit both his hands around it, stacked, and I’d still be able to see his thick, swollen crown. The fingers of one of his big hands curl around it, and I moan as I watch him slowly stroke it up and down.
Glistening, pearly-white liquid beads at the tip and then dribbles down his shaft, his hand rubbing it in and making his whole cock shine in a way that has my pussy throbbing and my mouth watering.
He moves forward, his hand stroking his cock and his eyes locked between my legs. He pushes my legs wide apart, his breath on my thighs, and when it moves higher, I can feel the tremor tease through my whole body.
“Perfect,” he groans quietly, his breath teasing over my bare pussy.
“Perfect and mine.”
I cry out as his tongue touches me, the sensation almost knocking me back onto his desk. He starts at my opening, his tongue pushing deep inside before he drags it slowly up, parting my soft folds until his wicked tongue bumps over my clit. He growls, pressing his whole mouth to me and letting the tip of his tongue swirl over my clit over and over, until I’m throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut, gasping at the feeling.
My hands fly out behind me to stop myself from falling, palm flat on his desk and my head thrown back as Damien tongues my pussy and makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. He groans into me, his tongue push
ing deep and tasting all of me. I look down, and I moan louder as I see his arm moving, knowing that he’s touching that beautiful cock of his because of me. It’s a feeling that has my toes curling and the moans tumbling from my lips, knowing that this gorgeous, dominant, powerful man is stroking his big cock for me.
His other hand comes up, fingers teasing my entrance as he tongues my clit. He slowly pushes one inside, and suddenly, I freeze. Suddenly, I realize my whole little “dangerous bad girl” act of breaking in here and throwing sass back at him is going to come crashing down. Because if his finger goes any further, he’s going to know I’m—
Damien suddenly stops, and I feel my whole face flush red. He slowly pulls away from me, and all I want is to crawl into hole somewhere and disappear.
“I—” my words choke as the heat blazes though my face, knowing what a total fool I probably look like trying to play the temptress when I’m really just a virgin.
“I should go—”
“Stop.”
His voice is firm, but warm, and deep, and the sound of it envelops me like a blanket.
“Look at me, baby girl,” he says softly. I don’t, because I can’t, and I keep my eyes and my face turned away as the tears brim my eyes.
“Lyra.”
His hand cups my cheek, and slowly, he pulls my gaze back to him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper sullenly.
But Damien’s just shaking his head, his eye blazing with something heated and his gaze firmly on me.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, angel,” he purrs. “I knew from the first look at you that you’d never been claimed, that you’d never felt a man inside of you. I could tell by the way you walked, and the way you held yourself.”
I start to look away, but he stops me.
“I want you like this,” he growls, a hunger suddenly blazing over his face. “I want you untouched, and unmarked, and I like that you’re mine and only mine.” He stands, moving close to me and pulling me against him. He tilts my head back, and suddenly, he’s kissing me so hard I can feel it in my toes. I can taste myself on his tongue, and I know it’s dirty, but it suddenly sends that hungry shiver back through me again. Or maybe it’s because it’s so dirty.
