Chapter 17: The Devil Wants Me To Beg (R18)
Ana’s hands instinctively flew up to grab his forearms, her fingers digging into his hard muscles as she tried to push him away. "Damian, stop... what are you doing? Didn’t you said I was sleeping on the couch!"
"I said you were sleeping on the couch," Damian growled softly, his voice rough and deep against her wet skin.
He had completely stripped before stepping inside, his massive, heavily muscled frame completely bare and slick under the downpour. The scorching heat radiating off his naked skin cut right through the warm spray of the shower.
"I never said I wouldn’t touch you before then," he murmured.
His large, calloused hands slid slowly up her wet torso, tracking the curve of her ribs until they securely cupped her heavy breasts. Ana let out a sharp, involuntary whimper, her head falling back against his shoulder.
She wanted to fight him. She wanted to scream at him for treating her like an object. But the moment his thumbs brushed over her aching, sensitive peaks, an electric jolt shot straight down to her core.
Her knees, almost melted. The heavy, throbbing restlessness that had tortured her all night and all through the jet flight instantly flared into a consuming fire.
Instead of pushing him away, her hips instinctively arched backward, pressing her wet, bare bottom directly against the hard, unyielding ridge of his arousal.
Damian let out a low, feral growl at the contact. The last shred of his control snapped.
He violently turned her around in his arms, pinning her front-first against the wet marble wall of the shower. Ana shrieked softly as the cool stone met her chest, but before she could complain, Damian’s massive body pressed in from behind, completely trapping her against the wall.
He grabbed both of her hands, pinning them flat against the marble above her head.
"Let’s get you cleaned up, Anastasia," he whispered darkly against her ear.
Picking up a bar of scented soap, he began to glide it slowly down the line of her spine. He traced every single curve of her body with agonizing slowness, covering her skin in a thick, rich lather.
The smooth, slippery friction against her sensitive skin made Ana gasp, her body trembling violently under his hands.
The soap traveled lower, over the flare of her hips, before he finally settled it right between her thighs.
A moment later, he dropped the soap. He replaced it with his bare fingers, ruthlessly massaging and lathering her core.
The slick, soapy warmth combined with the heavy pressure of his fingers sent the tension in her body skyrocketing to a breaking point. She was completely trapped between the cold marble and his burning chest, her breath hitching in ragged, desperate pants.
He knew exactly how to ruin her. He rubbed against her sweet spot with a lethal, unyielding rhythm, driving her closer and closer to the edge, but keeping her just out of reach.
"Damian... please," she sobbed out, her head shaking as the pleasure became too intense to bear.
Damian leaned down, biting the side of her neck just hard enough to leave a mark.
"Please what, Anastasia?" he purred, his fingers driving deeper, testing her wetness through the thick lather. "You want your release? Then beg for it. Tell your master what you need."
"Please..." Ana sobbed, her fingers clawing helplessly at the slick marble wall. The overwhelming friction of his lathered fingers was driving her completely insane, pushing her right to the brink of a shattering climax, only for him to hold her back. "Please, just do it to me..."
Damian paused his movements just enough to make her whimper in pure agony. He leaned over her shoulder, his chest heaving against her wet back.
"Do what, Anastasia?" He demanded, his voice dropping into a dark, demanding growl. "Speak the words. Tell me exactly what you want."
The raw humiliation choked her, but the burning ache between her thighs was far more powerful than her dignity. She couldn’t take another second of this torture. Killing the last remains of her shame and pride, she threw her head back against his chest and cried out.
"Give me my climax! Please, Damian... make me come!"
A dark, victorious smirk spread across Damian’s sharp features. He had completely broken her defenses.
"Good girl," he growled.
In one swift, powerful motion, he spun her around to face him. Ana’s back hit the wet marble wall as she looked up into his blown-out, predatory eyes.
Before she could even draw breath, Damian lifted her right leg, hooking her knee over his solid forearm to expose her completely to his gaze.
He didn’t use his length to claim her; he wanted her to look at him while his hand did the damage.
Damian slid his lathered fingers back down between her thighs, embedding them deeply into her dripping, swollen heat. He began to stroke her with a brutal, relentless speed.
His thumb locked onto her ultra-sensitive core, heavy and unyielding, rubbing against her in a ruthless, rhythmic friction that made the soapy water froth between them.
"Ah! Damian...!" Ana shrieked, her fingers clutching wildly at his wet, corded shoulders for balance.
The pleasure was blinding. Every fast, heavy stroke of his fingers sent hot electricity straight to her brain. She looked at him through teary blurred vision, watching the possessive, satisfaction on his face as he watched her fall apart.
"Look at me, Anastasia," he commanded, his thumb applying a sudden, devastating pressure right against her peak. "See what I do to you."
Ana choked on a sob, as the tension tightened into a tight, suffocating knot. She was flying, completely at the mercy of his hand.
"Damian... I’m close... I can’t..."
"Take it," he growled near her lips, his fingers driving into her rapidly contracting walls while his thumb gave one final, ruthless friction twist. "Come for me."
Ana screamed his name into the roaring sound of the shower as her body violently convulsed.
A massive, rhythmic climax ripped through her, pulsing hard against his fingers as her vision went entirely black. Her locked leg trembled against his arm, and her body went completely limp, sliding down the marble wall until Damian caught her securely against his chest.
Holding her up while the warm water washed the remaining lather away from their overlapping, exhausted bodies.
Damian shut off the water. The sudden silence in the bathroom was deafening, broken only by the sound of Ana’s ragged, uneven breathing.
He grabbed a plush, dry towel, wrapping it loosely around her shivering frame before lifting her effortlessly into his arms. She let her head rest against his shoulder, her body completely spent from the intensity of the release he had just forced out of her.
He carried her out into the dark bedroom and tossed her onto the mattress. For a split second, as the soft covers met her skin, Ana thought the ordeal was finally over.
Then, Damian stepped back. The warmth vanished instantly, replaced by the cold air of the room. He didn’t get into the bed with her.
Instead, he stood over her, his dark eyes looking down at her like a predator staring at its caged prey. The fierce, passionate heat from the shower was entirely gone, replaced by a ruthless, businesslike detachment.
"Get dressed for dinner," Damian commanded, his deep baritone cutting through the quiet room like a blade. "The maid left clothes for you in the dressing room. I expect you downstairs in fifteen minutes."
Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and walked toward his private dressing room, leaving her frozen and shivering alone in the dark.