Chapter 8 Eight

8 Damian’s POV She still thinks she can fight me. I see it in the way she squares her shoulders, her chin tilted high, that sharp defiance flashing in her dark eyes. Like she hasn’t spent the last few weeks falling apart every time I touch her. Like she hasn’t already given herself to me, over and over again. I let her pretend. Because I know the truth. Sienna Laurent is mine. She just doesn’t want to say it yet. So I’ll make her. She’s pacing the length of her penthouse, her heels clicking against the marble, every movement sharp and bristling. “I think I’ve let this go on long enough,” she announces, like she’s delivering some executive order. Like she has control over this. I watch her, arms crossed, silent. She turns to face me, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll admit, you were a good distraction. But I don’t need you.” Liar. I say nothing. Her nostrils flare, like my silence is more infuriating than if I’d called her out on the bullshit. “You can stop looking at me like that,” she snaps. “Like you know me.” I do. She’s trying to cut me off before I can do it first, but she doesn’t realize I have no fucking intention of letting her go. I tilt my head. “Is that what you want?” A flicker of hesitation. Quick, but I see it. Her nails dig into her palm. “Yes.” I step forward. “You want me to leave?” She lifts her chin. “Yes.” Another step. “Want me to pretend none of this ever happened?” Her breath catches. I smirk. Got you. I take another step, closing the distance, watching the way she shifts on her feet, the way her pulse flutters in her throat. She can’t lie to me. I lean in, my voice low. “Say it like you mean it.” She swallows hard. “I…” I grip her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “You can’t, can you?” Her lips part, her breath shaky, her body betraying her. I trail my fingers down her neck, over her collarbone, lower. Not touching, just hovering. Watching her react. I lower my mouth to her ear. “Because you need me.” She shudders, keeping silent. “Because you crave me.” A soft, sharp inhale. I smirk. “Because you already fucking belong to me.” A choked little noise escapes her lips, and that’s all the confirmation I need. I slam her against the wall. She gasps, but I cut it off with my mouth, swallowing her protests, kissing her deep and ruthless until she melts. She fights, but only for show. Her nails rake down my arms, but her hips press against me. She shoves at my chest, but her thighs part as I grip them, lifting her. She wants this. I carry her to the bedroom, dropping her onto the mattress, watching her scramble up on her elbows, eyes wild, lips swollen. “Say it,” I demand. She shakes her head. I climb onto the bed, pinning her beneath me, my hand gripping her throat, my knee pressing between her thighs. I squeeze just enough to make her feel it. “Say it,” I murmur. Her breath comes in ragged little gasps, her body arching desperately. But she’s stubborn. Fine. I slide a hand between her legs, finding her bare, soaked. I chuckle darkly. “You’re such a fucking liar.” I drag my fingers over her, teasing, taunting, spreading her slick. She’s trembling now, a mess beneath me, still clinging to that last bit of pride. I pull away completely. She whimpers. I smirk. “Say it.” She shakes her head again, but this time, it’s weak. So I grab her by the hair, flipping her onto her stomach, dragging her onto her knees. Forcing her to submit. Her breath hitches. She likes this. I slap her ass, sharp and humiliating. She moans. I do it again. “Say it.” She presses her forehead to the sheets, trembling. I lean over her, my lips brushing her ear. “Be a good girl for once in your life and admit the truth.” She squeezes her eyes shut, her nails digging into the sheets. I slide my cock against her, teasing her entrance, so fucking close, but not giving her what she needs. She’s on the edge now. I grip her hips, stilling her, making her stay exactly where I want her. And then, she breaks. “I need you,” she whispers. I go still. She whimpers. “I need you, sir.” I slam into her. She screams, her body taking me, stretching around me, her hands clutching at the sheets like I’m the only thing holding her together. “Good girl,” I murmur, thrusting deep, setting a pace that’s slow but punishing. She sobs, pleasure wrecking her, her back arching. I grip her hair, pulling her head back, making her take every inch. “Look at you,” I murmur. “So fucking perfect when you obey.” A wrecked little noise escapes her lips. I kiss down her spine, my hands gripping her hips, dragging her back against me with every slow, deep thrust. “I’ve got you,” I breathe, soft and dark all at once. She melts. Completely mine. She’s trembling beneath me, wrecked, undone and boneless. I roll us over, keeping her on top, making her sink down onto me again, stretching herself open, taking me as deep as I want. She gasps, her hands splaying over my chest, her body struggling to handle it. I guide her movements, controlling everything. Her breath hitches. “Sir—” I grip her jaw. “Shh. Just take it.” She shudders, nodding, surrendering. “Look at you,” I murmur, dragging my hands down her back, gripping her ass, making her move exactly how I want. Her head falls back, her body giving in. “Mine,” I whisper. She nods frantically, breathless. “Yes, sir. Yours.” That’s all it takes. I flip her again, pressing her into the mattress, fucking her slow and deep, drawing out her pleasure, making her feel every inch of me. She sobs as she comes, shattered, overwhelmed, completely owned. I follow, my body locking up, my release spilling deep inside her. And for the first time, she doesn’t try to fight it. She lets me claim her. And she loves it. Royhan Erotica 3.