Billionaire's Prisoner

10. Morning After-II

Emma’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling beneath Damien’s touch. His fingers moved with maddening precision, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from her until her thighs quivered and her back arched off the bed. Heat licked up her spine, pooling low in her belly, ready to snap.

Her nails scraped down his chest, leaving faint red trails. “Damien—”

His name fell from her lips like both a plea and a curse, breathless and desperate.

He smirked above her, drinking in the sight of her coming undone. “Tell me what you want, Bella.”

His voice was pure sin—dark, low, and deliciously rough, like velvet dragged over bare skin.

Emma’s hips bucked, grinding against his hand, chasing the release that kept slipping just out of reach.

“You… ah—Damien, you know what I want.”

“I do.” His fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving her empty. The whimper that escaped her lips was pure frustration.

He leaned closer, mouth brushing her ear. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Her glare was molten, her chest rising and falling as she fought for control. “You’re shameless.”

His lips ghosted down her throat as his hand slid slowly back up her thigh, stopping just short of where she ached most.

“And you’re stalling,” he murmured, voice dripping with dominance. “Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

Emma exhaled sharply, her pride warring with the needy throb between her legs. But she couldn’t take it anymore. Not with the way he was looking at her. Not with the way her body screamed for him.

“I want you,” she whispered, voice raw and trembling.

Damien’s eyes darkened, satisfaction glinting in their depths. “Where?”

Heat flushed her face, but she held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Inside me."

A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Good girl.”

In one fluid motion, he flipped her onto her back, his body caging hers. The heat of him seared her skin as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue-claiming, demanding. Emma moaned into his mouth, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

Damien broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her throat. "Ride me."

Emma's pulse spiked. "What?"

He nipped her collarbone. "You heard me." Sitting back on his heels, he gripped her hips and dragged her atop him in one smooth motion. The sudden shift left her straddling his lap, her thighs framing his waist, his erection pressing insistently against her core.

Emma's breath hitched. The morning light gilded his torso, highlighting every cut of muscle, every scar. He looked like sin incarnate, and he was all hers, at least for now.

Damien's hands settled on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow circles. "Take what you want, Bella."

Her throat went dry. There was something unbearably intimate about this-being the one in control, with him sprawled beneath her, watching her with those predatory eyes.

Emma braced her hands on Damien’s chest, the heat of his skin searing against her palms. Slowly—deliberately—she lifted her hips, then sank down onto him in one slow, devastating slide.

God.

A gasp tore from her throat as he filled her, inch by inch, the stretch exquisite—almost unbearable in its intensity. Her walls clenched around him instinctively, and Damien's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her skin.

“f**k,” he hissed, his jaw clenched, veins taut along his neck.

Emma rocked her hips slowly, experimentally, her lips curving in a breathless smirk as she felt his c**k twitch inside her.

“Not so smug now, are you?”

His laugh was low and strained, a dangerous edge beneath it.

“Keep going,” he rasped. “Let’s see who begs first.”

Challenge accepted.

She began to move in a slow, grinding rhythm—rising and falling, circling her hips to drive them both insane. His hands were everywhere—cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing her n*****s until they peaked, sliding down her waist, gripping her ass to guide her pace harder, deeper.

Each thrust sent pleasure shooting up her spine, her breath catching with every pass of his c**k over that sensitive spot inside her. Sparks raced under her skin, heat building like a storm.

“f**k, Bella,” Damien groaned, eyes dark, wild. “You’re so f*****g warm—so tight around me. You feel like heaven.”

Her head dropped back, hair tumbling over her shoulders as she moved faster, riding him with reckless abandon. The only sounds were their ragged breathing, the slick rhythm of skin on skin, the low moans spilling from both their lips.

Damien sat up suddenly, arms locking around her back as he pulled her flush against his chest. His mouth found the column of her throat, sucking and biting until her skin burned.

“I want to feel you come,” he growled against her neck, voice rough with raw need. “Now, Bella. Fall apart for me.”

His hand slipped between them, his thumb circling her clit with ruthless precision. Emma cried out, her body bowing as the coil inside her snapped. White-hot ecstasy ripped through her, her nails digging into his shoulders as she shattered.

Damien followed her over the edge with a groan, his hips jerking upward as he spilled inside her.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the heat of their tangled bodies.

Then Damien chuckled, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. "Still having second thoughts?"

Emma, still boneless from her climax, could only swat weakly at his chest. "Shut up.”

He grinned and rolled them onto their sides, still connected, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns down her spine, each stroke sending aftershocks through her skin.

“Admit it,” he murmured against her temple. “You like me.”

"I tolerate you." Emma smiled. For the first time in years, she felt light. This man—this stranger—had managed to make her feel safe and exhilarated in the same breath, like the world outside had momentarily disappeared.

He nipped her earlobe. "Is that why you keep whimpering?"

Emma groaned, “I need to leave now…”

"So soon," he murmured, tilting her chin up for a slow, lingering kiss, "so when will I see you again?"

Emma stood up, wrapping the bedsheet around her, her eyes met him once again.

“I will message you.” Emma replied and then she picked up her clothes as she continued, “I have paid for this room. You can stay here.”

“Staying here? I have other works too, you know,” Damien lazily sat on the bed. His predatory eyes scanned every inch of her.

Emma's head snapped quickly, “work?” A frown appeared on her forehead. “Do you mean other clients?”

Damien was taken aback again and a chuckle followed, “yeah. Clients.”

Emma’s eyes darkened. She stepped back to the bed, closing the space between them. The defiance in her gaze was sharp, clear.

She leaned down, pinched his chin between her fingers, and whispered, “While you're under contract with me, I don’t care who they are— no one else gets to touch you.”

Damien stared at her, surprised. Her voice dropped to a low, possessive purr. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”