Page 10 of Beautifully Damned
I close the distance. She tries to slip past me, but I catch her easily and lift her by the waist. She makes a small sound, more shock than fear, as I sit her on the edge of the sink. Her feet dangle. My hands are still at her waist.
And then it happens again.
That fucking tingling.
The nerves under my palms buzz with static. A tingling warmth creeps up my arms. It’s not pleasant. It’s unwelcome and unfamiliar.
What. The. Fuck? Am I allergic to her or something?
I pull my hands away fast, and plant them on the granite beside her hips. But I’m still crowding her, close enough that the scent of clean soap and citrus curls into my nostrils.
"Forget you're my hostage, little lamb?" I hiss. “Or are you trying to distract my staff now, too?”
“It’s completely my fault. I’m the one that bugged her.”
I laugh, but I don’t find this shit comical at all. How can she be this selfless in the rot we live in? Why does she put herself in the line of fire to protect a woman working in my home? It pisses me the fuck off.
“You’ve been here less than two days and already spreading your sunshine through my walls.” I spit with disdain. No one laughs here. Or smiles. And she can’t come here and turn everything upside down, mess with my space, and infect the mansion and the people in it with her little smile and big bright eyes. I built my world to be cold. Unmoving. A reflection of how it is inside my mind and heart. And she’s fucking infecting it.
Ayla shifts, angling her body away, refusing to interact with me. That silence burns.
"Keep your sweetness to yourself," I growl. "This isn't your home. You're not here to make friends."
My words make her look at me with the heat of a thousand suns. “I know it’s not my home,” she says. “So take me back. Please.”
"Excuse me?" My voice drops.
“You’ve made your point. You wanted to humiliate my father, and you did. You’ve locked me up, terrified me. Fine. Congratulations. Now let me go.”
"You think this is over?” I taunt her. “You are not going home. Not until your father begs on his knees and bleeds for every sin he ever committed. And even then—” I breathe her in, sickened by how good I think she smells “—I’m not sure I’ll let you go.”
She stares at me like she’s chewing glass, but she swallows whatever fear is choking her and spits, “You’re nothing but a man so empty that he needs fear and control just to feel alive.”
I pay her words no mind, because she proceeds to jump off the counter. And her body? It drags down onto mine. Every. Fucking. Inch.
Soft tits against my chest. Hips grazing hard muscle. Thigh against my dick. She gasps, flushing so deep her ears go red. Then she bolts, leaving the kitchen door swinging behind her.
I just stand there. Blank. My jaw locked, something feels off. Tight. I look down.Fucking hell.My cock’s hard. Not half-mast. Full. Heavy. I straighten, the tension rising like a toxin in my bloodstream.
I don’t pop erections like a boy watching porn for the first time; never willed a reaction from my body that isn’t under my control. I decide when I want to fuck. I control when to take. I’ve never let anyone get close enough to touch a nerve. I’ve trained that instinct out of myself before I could even drive. But that girl… that fucking girl… touched me by mistake and my dick’s acting like she begged for it.
This is how men lose themselves—how empires crumble. Not from bullets. But from softness. From temptation wrapped in weakness.
This is fucking humiliating. I rub a hand down my face, my thoughts circling like sharks. That girl is a problem. I press my palms flat to the stone counter. Breathe in through my nose.
Cold granite.
Still hard.
Fuck.
?Chapter VIII ?
Ayla
The sun is bright today, blinding, almost. But it doesn’t match the dull gray pressing down on my chest. It’s been days with me in the devil’s home, and I haven’t heard anything—nothing from Roman, and worse, nothing from my family.
Since the kitchen… incident, I haven’t stepped foot near Elena or tried to help with the cooking. I don’t want to get her in trouble. God knows what would happen if he walks in and finds us talking again.
