Chapter 169 His petty tricks
Aria’s POV
I moved to decline the call but he hit accept instead. His eyes locked on mine, dark and dangerous. He didn’t pull away.
If anything, his hips pressed harder against me, rolling once, slow and deliberate, and the friction sent a jolt straight through my core.
"Aria, why the hell did you block my number?"
Ethan’s voice cut through the room.
My stomach dropped.
I opened my mouth to answer—and Damian’s fingers found my breast, and his thumb dragged across the peak with devastating precision.
And I had to bite down on my lip so hard I tasted blood to keep from moaning.
"Aria? Baby, it’s been so long. I miss you. I really fucking miss you."
Ethan’s voice softened into that coaxing, intimate tone I’d once found comforting.
Now it made my skin crawl—but I couldn’t focus on that.
Because Damian’s mouth was on my neck, sucking another mark into my skin, and his hips rolled against me from behind, grinding me against the counter’s edge with slow, punishing pressure.
"Ethan," I managed, my voice cracking. "Don’t call me again. We’re done. We have nothing left between us."
Damian’s hand slid lower. Past my stomach. Down. His fingers found me through the thin fabric of my shorts, and I had to brace both hands against the counter to keep from collapsing.
"And I’m married now." The words came out breathless, shaking.
Damian’s fingers pressed harder, circling with agonizing precision. A strangled sound caught in my throat. I clamped my mouth shut, but it was too late—the noise had slipped through.
"What—Aria, what the fuck are you talking about?" Ethan’s shock was palpable. "You’re married? To who? You’re MY wife!"
Damian hooked his fingers under the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down in one motion.
The cool air hit my bare skin, and then his hand was back where I needed it—no barrier now, nothing between his fingers and my soaked, aching—
He stroked once, slow and deliberate, and I nearly sobbed.
"Aria! Are you seriously doing this just to piss me off? Is this really necessary?"
Ethan’s voice spiked with anger, but I could barely hear him over the blood roaring in my ears.
Damian worked me with devastating patience, his fingers slipping through wet heat, finding every sensitive spot.
I couldn’t help but moaned.
"Is someone there with you?" Ethan’s voice turned dangerous. "Aria. Who the hell is that?"
"She’s not trying to piss you off." Damian spoke into the phone, his voice gravelly with arousal, but his eyes stayed on me. And his fingers—god, his fingers—never stopped moving.
"She’s just busy."
I heard the metallic slide of his zipper.
"Call again," Damian said, "and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t."
He hung up. Tossed the phone aside.
And then he was inside me — one deep, punishing thrust that buried him to the hilt and tore a broken scream from my throat.
His hand clamped over my mouth. "Quiet," he rasped, his lips against my ear, his hips already pulling back for another stroke.
"Unless you want the whole house to hear how good I’m fucking you."
I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.
I was already gone—lost in the rhythm of him driving into me against the kitchen counter, each thrust harder than the last.
His grip on my hip tight enough to bruise, his ragged breath hot against the back of my neck.
He took me apart with merciless precision, and when I finally shattered around him—sobbing, shaking, completely wrecked.
He swallowed my cries with his mouth and followed me over the edge with a guttural groan that I felt vibrate through my entire body.
Afterward, we stood there tangled together, both breathing like we’d been drowning. My legs wouldn’t hold me.
He scooped me up without a word and carried me to the bedroom.
He laid me down on the bed and I reached for him, expecting more—expecting him to press his advantage, to take me again the way he had against the kitchen counter.
My body was still humming, still aching, still ready.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he lowered himself beside me and pulled me into his arms. His mouth found mine— soft this time, unhurried.
He kissed me slowly, deeply, his hand cradling my jaw like I was something precious. And then he stopped. Just held me.
No further. No demand. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his body wrapped around mine.
I blinked up at him, confused. "I thought you were going to..."
"I know." He pressed another kiss to my forehead. "Not yet."
"Are you jealous?" I murmured.