Page 72 of Emperor of Lust

21

HANA

My heart is poundingas I stumble behind Damian, his grip unyielding as he pulls me through the dimly lit parking garage. The adrenaline from watching him with Prescott is still burning in my veins, twisting into something dark, electric and unhinged.

He kicks open a side door, pulling me roughly after him and surging out into the crisp night air. The alley behind the theater is deserted, shadows stretching across brick walls. The noise of the city is distant, muted by the adjacent park.

Damian stops, letting go of my hand and turning to face me. The way he’s looking at me should scare me—intense, dangerous, daring me to match him, step for step. But I can’t pull away. My pulse is racing, my breath shallow, my skin practically buzzing with anticipation.

He doesn’t say a word, just lifts his hand, brushing his fingertip along my jaw, grazing my skin with the lightest, softest touch. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, tugging it open.

Something inside me crumbles. I’ve held onto so much for so long—my fears, my past, my iron grip on my boundaries. But now, with Damian looking at me like I’m the only thing he sees, everything else falls away and shatters at my feet.

A quiet whimper escapes my lips. His eyes darken as he steps closer, a low growl slipping from him, possessive, unrestrained.

“Let’s get one fucking thing straight, Kitsune,” he hisses darkly, his violet eyes shining maniacally in the darkness. His hand wraps around my throat, pushing me back until I feel the hard bricks at my back, sending my pulse skyrocketing.

“You. Are. Fucking.Mine,” he rasps, his lips less than an inch away and his breath teasing over my skin. “I’ll fuckingkillfor what’s mine,” he growls. “And I will fuckingtakewhat’s mine.”

His mouth brutally slams down on me, smashing and destroying whatever possible defenses I have left, his tongue demanding entrance as it swirls and dances with my own.

We’ve already crossed every line and broken every boundary I thought I’d always have.

But in that kiss, something changes. Snaps. Shifts. The last lies about this being “pretend” or “just an act” that we’ve used to seal the cracks in the dam collapse.

And when the water rushes out, there’s no stopping the flood from sweeping us both away.

I whimper when Damian roughly grabs my hips and spins me around, pinning me against the brick wall, sending a rush of electricity through me that grounds me even as I feel myself coming undone.

His hands slide up my arms, pinning my wrists over my head, and I revel in the way he holds me like I’mhis. There’s no room for anything else in my mind. No past, no regrets. Just the raw, unfiltered sensation of Damian.

He grabs a fist of my hair, yanking and twisting my head around. His mouth crashes to mine, his lips rough, teeth grazing my lower lip until I gasp, the line between pleasure and pain deliciously blurred.

This is freedom, I realize—this dark, reckless surrender. This is what it means to truly let go, to be completely liberated. I thought I’d never feel it.

But Damian knows my darkness. He’s been there, he understands it, and in his possessive grip, I feel alive. More alive than I have in years.

He kisses me harder, and I match him with a fervor that surprises even me. It’s like I’m tapping into some buried part of myself, something fierce and unstoppable, something only he has ever managed to reach. I know, in some wild, reckless corner of my mind that he could ruin me completely, and I wouldn’t care.

His mouth drops to my neck, biting and sucking as I cry out for more. He keeps my hands pinned above my head as he yanks at something with his other arm, and it takes me a second to realize it’s his tie.

I whimper as he brings it up and starts to wrap it around my wrists, binding them tightly together. He reaches up, looping the end of the tie around an old hook set into the brick above my head and pulling it tight until my arms stretch high above my head before he ties that end tight around my wrists.

Chaining me to the wall, completely at his mercy.

His teeth rake down my neck as his hands slide around me, cupping my breasts and roughly pinching and rolling my tender nipples through my gown. I cry out, moaning and arching against him, desperate for his touch, his roughness.

I moan when he savagely rips open the plunging neckline of the dress, spilling my breasts into his brutal hands. His fingers tug and pinch at my nipples again, making me cry out sharply as pleasure and pain explode throughout my system.

One of his hands slides between us, yanking up the hem of my gown and roughly reaching between my legs. I whimper eagerly as his strong fingers stroke my slick pussy through my drenched panties, rolling over my aching clit through the lace.

He groans darkly behind me.

“Now now,” he rasps into my ear. “Whatexactlyhas this messy little cunt so wet, Kitsune?”

“You!” I choke, moaning as I writhe against him.

“No one else?” he snarls warningly.

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