Page 13 of Tear Me Down
I make my way through the tables and crowds of people, weaving in and out carefully and slyly, leaving only that dolled-up, fake bitch in my line of sight. She turns down the hallway that leads to the main section of the mansion, and I follow, tracing her steps halfway down until she turns into a room, leading me into a private office. Stepping in after her, she turns to meet my gaze, looking halfway surprised to see me and not my fiancé following her.
“Oh! Hello. Ashia…Carpenter? Right?” She points at me, trying to appear pleasant. Hearing my maiden name, and not what will be my last name like I had heard earlier, just pisses me off more, as if she doesn’t notice the rock sitting on my hand. “I’m not surprised Emmett brought you, you’re practically the only barber these men talk about. I’ve heard some great things. As it turns out, we both have some…mutual clients,” she says in a sultry tone.
That fucking bitch. She wants to touch my man, and then talk to me likeI’mthe talk of all of these guys? Practically insinuating that Damien isa mutual client?
I clench my jaw, hating how upset I’m getting, but I’m so tired of other women feeling like they have the right to touch what doesn’t belong to them. Damien is mine. Sure, when we first met, things were different, but now I could never imagine not waking up next to him, feeling his strong hands on me, or listening to his heartbeat as I fall asleep at night. I’m not normally a selfish person, but I am when it comes to him, and I’ll be damned if any washed-up hooker-turned-pimp thinks she can take my place.
“Actually, Damien brought me.” I feel my anger pool in my chest, and my heart throbs in my head. The tension in my body can be felt through the tremors in my voice, and while I know I need to calm down and not make a commotion, it doesn’t stop. I let it take over, and I grab that bitch by the back of her head, curl her ‘perfect,’ over-bleached blonde hair in my fist, and slam her face onto the wooden desk—yanking a curt yelp from her lips. A rattle snakes its way through my wrist at the contact, and her head flies back as she falls to the floor. The rebound from the force of my attack pushes her into motion and she scrambles, clinging to her now bloodied nose as she rolls over and cowers. I kneel down and shove my engagement ring in her fucked-up face, grinning asthe light bounces off the diamond and temporarily blinds her. “And it’s Hartley, bitch.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” She screams at me, but I reach out and grab onto her jaw, forcing her to look at me.
“You touched what doesn’t belong to you, that’s what’s wrong with me. Touch my man again and I'll rip your fucking heart out.” After pushing her face away, I stand back up and turn to walk out when I see Damien standing in the doorway, stalking with his head cocked to the side in observation.
Shit.
A wave of guilt instantly washes over me, and I feel my spine chill. My breaths are suddenly heavy, and my anger is accompanied by self-loathing. I shouldn’t have done that. What if she goes and tells someone? That could possibly blow the cover we’re trying to set tonight. The point of this was to push the attention away from us, not the other way around. With his hands in his pockets, he walks up to me, staring into my eyes intensely, and I can’t tell if he’s mad at me or not. Actually, at this moment, I don’t care. I'm pissed. While my reaction may have been a tad dramatic, he’s stillmyman, and I needed to make that clear.
He finally turns his attention off of me and towards her, squatting down and looking at her face. With the curl of his lips, I can’t tell if he’s impressed or pissed off.
“Leave, before I let her tear you to shreds,” he warns before she scrambles to her feet and runs out of the room. Each click of her heels resembles a tick on the detonation countdown between us. He gets up and closes the door behind her, locking it and gradually turning to me. His eyes are a mix of emotions—aggravation, worry, and the small hint of arousal that I crave from him. “I told you to stay where I could see you,” he says slowly and methodically. His voice strained with either anger or pure lust. Maybe both.
“That bitch feeling you up kind of distracted me,” I seethe, trying to ignore the desperate twist of my gut at the hungry look on his face and focus on my anger. He walks up to me, stalking at a treacherously slow pace and raking those gorgeous eyes over my body. Once he’s right in front of me, he puts his hands on my shoulders and grips them tightly, but not enough to hurt. A seductive curl of his lips manifests just before he sharply turns me, pulling me against his chest and running his strong, firm hand across my stomach.
“Does that make you upset, little wolf?” he says in my ear seductively, a low rasp in his tone.
“Have you ever fucked her?” I ask angrily, trying to ignore his hard dick in my back. I can feel that smug smirk against my hair as he nuzzles his face against me.
“Who do I belong to?” His question comes out more like a statement.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I press. He grabs onto my throat, tightening the grip only mildly before he pushes up on my jaw and tilts my headup to look at him. My neck is elongated and taut, making the feeling more intimate as his thumb grazes the skin on the outside of my windpipe.
“I said, who do I fucking belong to?” he commands through strained growls, causing the tingle in my body to intensify along with my agitation.
“Me,” I hiss through my teeth, and he lets out a shaky breath that fuels my inner turmoil. The air grazes my ear as he moves his hand from my throat to the back of my neck, readjusting his grip as he plants it there.
“You’re damn right.” He looks murderous, ravenous. Hungry. Like if I let him, he’d devour me right here, and I would never come back up for air. He looks so damn hot, but he can’t have me until he answers my question. I may not need to know everyone he’s ever had sex with, but I sure as hell want to know ifshewas one of them.
I turn myself around to face him, looking up at him and briefly admiring his strong features, before I push and shove him down onto the couch. He falls back lazily, with a wicked grin spread across his face, and while I’m surprised that he actually let me force him back, that smirk only serves to anger me further, like he’s not taking me seriously. I hike my leg onto the couch, firmly dig my heel into the cushion right by his thigh, and grip his tie in my fist, pulling his face towards me so he knows I’m serious. Not enough to potentially hurt him, but I need him to listen to me and answer my damn question.
“I asked you a question, Damien. Have you fucked her?” He starts to run his hand up and down my hiked thigh. Grazing the sensitive skin just soft enough to raise goosebumps and make me shiver. I shove the arousal away quickly, trying to remain focused. “Because if you did, I'll walk out there right now and hang her with this.” I jerk on his tie, gesturing to it. He bites his bottom lip as his grip on my thigh tightens, and he pushes my leg out only slightly, allowing my dress to fall to my standing leg and reveal my barely covered pussy to him.
“No, Mrs. Hartley, I haven’t. Even if I had, the only woman who’s permitted to touch me since I laid eyes on you, isyou. That’s why I told her to fuck off.” Him calling me that sends that same wave of guilt through my spine.
I know he isn't lying to me. He never has, and I know there’s been plenty of women before me, so I shouldn’t really be so upset, but when I saw that bitch touch him it was like a switch flipped in me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I don’t act like this? Violence is never my immediate go-to, yet somehow, that was the only conclusion I was drawn to a few moments ago.
My now exposed thigh brings the reminder of the knife attached to me and sends a ghostly breeze against the limb. What if I had remembered it when I first walked in here? Would I have actually hurt her? I’m not so sure anymore. I would like to think I wouldn’t, but then again, I’ve never really had something I was so desperate to keep. Never felt so strongly about someone that the thought of losing them is truly unbearable. I’d do anything to keep him close to me, and maybe that makes me crazy, but I’d dive headfirst into insanity for him if I needed to.
I relax my hold on his tie somewhat as he caresses my leg again, reaching high into my dress. The violent haze that clouded my eyes gradually fades away and is replaced by the shivers that slither their way through my spine.
He looks up at me with the energy and fire of a caged bear. The shakiness of his shallow breathing exposes how much I’ve turned him on by doing this, showing him this glimpse of feral possession. My core clenches, reacting to the untamed look of desire in his features, and another wave of heat washes over me, covering me completely and seeping in deep—pulling that burning desire from earlier to the surface.
“Take out your cock.” My voice comes out harsh and commanding, like a Queen demanding an audience. He shockingly complies, unbuttoning his jacket and laying it to the side. Then he sluggishly unbuckles his belt, taking his time and teasing me as he pulls the leather free. The same mouth-watering hands move to the button of his pants, popping them open with force, and lowers them just enough for his rock-hard and glistening dick to spring free. My breath catches at the sight, and it’s taking everything in me not to dive down and take him into my mouth, but now is not the time for submission. This is my time to be in control and get what he’s teased me with for the past twenty-four hours. “Now, are you going to fuck me like a husband should or do I have to beg?” Almost instantly, he reaches up and rips my thong off of me, freeing my vagina from the only barrier left between us. The movement is so quick and precise that I can barely register it before he lunges at me.
His arm wraps around my hips in a harsh grip, lifting me effortlessly and leaving me no reaction other than clinging to him. He carries me over to the desk, moving swiftly to push my dress out of the way and line himself perfectly with my soaking core. The moment my bare ass touches the desk, he rams into me, using the momentum of his crusade to add to the impact.
I cry out, almost as loudly as the sound of the generic office supplies hitting the floor. The high-pitched moan bounces off the almost bare walls as he starts to fuck me, driving himself deep over and over again as he shifts and lifts my right leg up into his arm so he can plunge himself as far in me as physically possible. I tighten my arms around his neck to steady myself from the forceful rocking he’s causing, reaching up to my stomach with every thrust.
His grip on my hips tightens, probably to the point of bruising, as he holds me in place. Using my body for his pleasure. He buries his face in my neck and bites down, coercing another shaky, strained cry from my lips as I let my head fall back in ecstasy. Exposing more of my neck for him to devour.
