9. Morning After-I
1407 Words
Emma woke to the soft press of lips against her throat—slow, lazy kisses that sent a shiver down her spine. Her body hummed with a sweet soreness, memories of last night flickering behind her closed eyelids.
Damn. He wasn’t just good. He was sinful.
She cracked her eyes open to find Damien hovering above her, his dark hair tousled, the morning sun casting gold across his sharp cheekbones. For once, he looked almost… soft.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Damien murmured, his voice rough with sleep, the warmth of it wrapping around her like a soft blanket.
Emma stretched slowly, a low sigh escaping her lips as a pleasant ache pulsed between her thighs. She glanced at him with a teasing smile. “Mmm. Someone was very energetic last night.”
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he propped himself up on one elbow, eyes dark and mischievous.
“You weren’t complaining.”
He traced lazy circles on her bare arm with a fingertip. “So, Miss Smith, are you satisfied with me?”
Emma rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at her own lips. The afterglow of their night together made her cheeks warm, “I’m having second thoughts.”
Damien chuckled, the sound low and amused, as his finger continued its slow path down her arm.
“But your body’s betraying you.”
His gaze flicked down to her flushed skin, the subtle rise and fall of her chest.
Before she could shoot back a witty reply, his phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand.
Emma’s eyes darted to it. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
He shook his head without breaking eye contact, his voice calm but firm. “Unless it’s the apocalypse, no.”
His hand slid possessively around her waist, thumb brushing the sensitive curve beneath her breast, sending a shiver through her, “I’m busy.”
Emma’s breath hitched— but then her phone rang. The sharp, shrill tone killed the moment.
She groaned, reaching for it blindly. "Ugh, who the hell—?"
OLIVER.
Her stomach dropped.
Damien raised an eyebrow, voice laced with teasing curiosity. “Husband dearest?”
Emma hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line before swiping to answer. “Hello?”
Oliver’s voice came through, cold and sharp as a blade. “Where the hell are you?”
Emma sat up abruptly, the sheets sliding down to her waist. Her heart kicked up, but her voice stayed steady. “That’s none of your business.”
There was a pause. A loaded silence.
Then Oliver spoke again, his tone lower— more calculated. “Shelby saw you at the Union Hotel last night.”
Emma’s fingers clenched around the phone. s**t.
Across from her, Damien watched with interest, lips curling into a lazy smirk. He leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder, earning a moan from her.
She elbowed him. Hard.
Oliver’s voice turned dangerous. "Are you with someone right now?"
Emma lifted her chin, even though he couldn’t see her. "Maybe I am."
A sharp inhale. Then a low, furious laugh. "You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t dare."
Damien chose that moment to nip at her earlobe.
Emma gasped.
Oliver went dead silent. In his mind, Emma could never cheat on him. A snarl left his lips as he said, "You b***h. Get Back Here ASAP."
The line went dead.
Emma exhaled, tossing her phone aside. "Well. That went well."
Damien smirked. "Trouble in paradise?"
She shot him a glare. "You enjoyed that."
"Immensely." He rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists to the bed. "Now, where were we?"
Emma opened her mouth to protest—but his lips crashed into hers before she could utter a word. The world fell away, and all thoughts of Oliver evaporated.
Her resistance melted into a moan as his mouth claimed hers— deep, slow, and possessive, like he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. His grip on her wrists was firm, not cruel—just enough to make her feel every inch of his control.
She arched beneath him, her skin tingling from the memory of the night before.
“You’re insufferable,” she breathed against his lips.
Damien chuckled, the sound low and sinful against her throat, as he countered, “And yet, you keep me around.”
He finally released her wrists, his fingers trailing down the length of her arms in a slow, deliberate caress that sent shivers through her. He raised his eyebrows as he asked, “curious?”
Emma shoved at his chest— half-hearted, teasing. But he didn’t move an inch.
“I pay you to be around.” She replied, not backing down.
“Ah, yes.” His smirk deepened. “The infamous ten grand.” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “Tell me, Bella— do you always throw money at your problems?”
Her smile curled wickedly. “Only the tall, arrogant ones.”
His eyes darkened, and before she could react, he rolled them over in one smooth motion, flipping her on top of him. The sheets tangled around their legs, the morning light painting gold across his bare chest. Emma’s breath hitched.
God, he was beautiful.
Damien’s hands settled on her hips, his thumbs tracing idle circles.
“Better view up here,” he murmured.
Emma narrowed her eyes, but her traitorous body betrayed her, warmth pooling low in her stomach. She pressed her palms against his chest, feigning indifference. “You’re not as charming as you think you are.”
“Are you sure?” His grip tightened, pulling her flush against him. “Your pulse is racing, Bella, just the way it races when someone lies.”
She could feel him, hard and wanting beneath her, and it sent a thrill through her. But she refused to let him win. “Adrenaline,” she deadpanned. “I’m mentally calculating how much this’ll cost me.”
Damien laughed—a rich, unfiltered sound that made her stomach flip. “Add a tip. I’m exceptional at morning rounds.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but her resolve was crumbling. His hands were wandering now, skimming up her ribs, his touch featherlight and maddening. “I am a perfect ten and that is your tip.”
Damien was taken aback again. This woman was confident and soft at the same time. She was a puzzle he couldn't solve. He smirked as he spoke, “that means, we are continuing it.”
Her breath caught.
She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. “If you stop now, I’m deducting it from your pay.”
A growl rumbled in his chest, and then his hands were in her hair, dragging her mouth to his. This kiss was different—hungry, possessive, all-consuming. Emma melted into it, her fingers threading through his hair as he rolled them over again, his body caging hers.
The phone rang.
Again.
Emma groaned, breaking away. “What do you want—”
Damien snatched the phone off the nightstand and silenced it with a swipe, tossing it onto the far couch. “Problem solved.”
She huffed. “He’s going to show up here.”
“I would love an audience.” Damien nipped at her jaw. “But too bad, he won't be able to make it here.”
Emma shoved at his shoulders, but he didn’t move an inch. “You’re deranged.”
“And you’re overthinking.” He caught her wrist, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Last night, you begged me not to stop. Now you’re worried about a man who couldn’t satisfy you if he tried.”
Her face burned. “I did not beg.”
“You whimpered.” His teeth grazed her inner wrist. “It was my favorite part.”
Emma’s retort died on her lips as his mouth found her collarbone, his tongue tracing the sensitive spot just below her throat. A gasp escaped her, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Damien hummed in approval. “There she is.”
She was losing. Fast.
And worse—she didn’t care.
Her hips arched against his, earning a low groan from him.
“Greedy,” he muttered, sliding a hand between them.
Emma’s breath shattered as his fingers found her, slick and eager. “Damien—”
- Writer
