Page 16 of Emperor of Lust

His laugh is instant, quiet, and condescending. He takes a step closer, the distance between us shrinking to almost nothing. “But youoffered, Kitsune,” he murmurs. “Quite explicitly, if I remember correctly. You all butbegged meto let you suck my cock.”

My face throbs with heat, my mouth dropping open.

No one, and I meanno one, has ever spoken to me like that.

“Isn’t that right, Kitsune?”

I flinch at the nickname, at the way it slips from his lips as if it’s some kind of truth, a secret part of me he has claimed forhimself. “Stop calling me that,” I seethe, my voice laced with a desperation I can’t hide.

“But that’s who you are,” he says, the dark intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through me despite myself. “The Kitsune.” He tilts his head, studying me with sharp, dangerous amusement. “And if you’re going to lord it over me with threats, I should be allowed to play that game too.”

I tense, a cold weight settling in my stomach as I see the faint gleam of satisfaction in his eyes that tells me he knows he has a dark weapon to use against me.

“You’ve been laundering money for some of the most unhinged, dangerous people on Earth,” he whispers, each word sinking into me like a blade. “Worse, laundering it through your family’slegitimatebusiness interests. And from the look on your face, I’m guessing your family doesn't know…do they.” He leans in, his voice dropping even lower. “What would they think if they knew? Would it destroy the perfect image you’ve spent your life building?”

I can feel the blood draining from my face, the very air seeming to thin around me as his words sink in, each one hitting with the force of a blow.

Before I can gather my thoughts, his hand moves, reaching for the towel wrapped around me. I slap his hand away, my breath catching, but he’s insistent, his fingers curling around the edge of the towel, looking at me darkly with a mixture of amusement and hunger.

“Stop it,” I hiss, my voice laced with a desperation I hate, a weakness that makes my skin crawl.

He doesn’t listen. His fingers are firm as he pulls. The towel slips down, falling with a soft whisper to the floor between us. I stand frozen, every inch of me exposed, my defenses shattered under the weight of his gaze.

His eyes roam over me, a slow, possessive sweep that sends heat pooling low in my stomach, a reaction I can’t control or stop. I feel a forbidden thrill from the sheer dominance he exudes, the way he’s stripped away every shred of control I thought was mine.

“This isn’t over,” he says, his voice a low growl, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity that leaves me breathless. “Not at all. We’re going to play like we did the other nightwheneverI want.”

My throat tightens, a faint protest hovering on my lips, but I can’t find my voice or pull my thoughts together enough to utter it. All I can feel is the weight of his words, the dark promise in his eyes, the way he stands over me, unrelenting and immovable.

“Tonight,” he murmurs, a dark smile curving his lips. “Come to my penthouse.”

The words barely register, the shock of his demand stunning me into silence. “What?” I blurt.

“You heard me.”

My throat bobs thickly. “Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to pick up where we left off.”

A shiver runs through me but I force myself to hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the fear and vulnerability coiling in my chest. “Meaning?”

He leans in, whispering. “Meaning, I want to see youall tied up again.”

I balk, the memory of that night flashing through my mind. The ropes…the way he’d looked at me…as though I were his to claim and control. A surge of anger rises in my chest, mingling with panic I can’t push down. Before I can respond, his finger presses against my lips, silencing me.

“If that doesn’t happen,” he murmurs, “I tell your family everything.”

My breath catches, my mind blanking as the weight of his threat hangs in the air before the full reality of what he’s demanding crashes down.

I stand frozen, my heart racing, my mind reeling with a mixture of rage and something darker simmering just below the surface—a thrill I can neither deny nor extinguish.

Damian steps back, his gaze lingering on me for a final moment before he turns, walking toward the door with that same calm, unbothered stride, as though this is just the beginning of a game he’s designed and knows he has already won.

“I’ll text you the address,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Don’t be late, Kitsune. You don’t want to keep me waiting.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me naked, shivering, and reeling.

6

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