RHEA
The door opens a minute later. A staff member drops off the bucket of ice water—no questions, no eye contact—and vanishes.
Damien grabs it, sets it on the desk beside me. I’m still spread out, naked, p***y dripping from his fingers and mouth, body shaking with denied orgasms. My c**t is swollen, throbbing like a heartbeat, every nerve screaming for release.
He doesn’t say a word.
Just dips his hand into the bucket—rings and all—and lets it sit there. Ice cubes clink against metal.
My breath hitches. I know what’s coming.
He pulls his hand out, water dripping from his fingers, rings now freezing cold. He spreads my thighs wider with his free hand, rough grip bruising.
“Look at this messy p***y,” he says, voice dark and filthy. “Soaked. Swollen. Begging for me to wreck it.”
He p
