Filed to story: Maya Thompson and Damien Blackwood Book PDF Free
Maya Thompson.
That soft mouth she bit when nervous. The wide, innocent eyes that shimmered even when she tried to stay strong. The quiet defiance in her when she stood tall, even as the world chipped away at her.
That woman haunted him.
Even now.
Even here.
Even while he was fucking someone else.
And when he came, it was mechanical.
Efficient.
Empty.
No pleasure.
He pulled out without a word, discarding the used condom like an afterthought. The woman leaned against the wall, breathless and wrecked-hair tangled, makeup smeared, a smug little smile on her face like she thought she’d accomplished something.
“Well… that was intense,” she panted.
Damien had already turned away, unbothered, walking toward the adjoining room.
“Dress,” he said coldly, grabbing a fresh shirt from the closet. “James will see you out.”
She blinked, still half-naked. “That’s it?”
He didn’t even glance at her.
“It was never more than that.”
She scoffed softly behind him but didn’t argue. She knew the rules. No sleepovers. No kissing. No second time.
And definitely no staying past the hour.
As she dressed, Damien shut the bathroom door behind him and turned on the water.
Scalding hot.
He stripped quickly and stepped into the steam, tilting his head back as it poured over his skin like punishment.
He should’ve felt better.
Lighter.
Loosened.
But all he felt was- Frustrated.
Tense.
The sex had done nothing.
Nothing except make the ache worse.
Because even in that penthouse suite, even with a willing body at his mercy, his mind hadn’t been on her.
Not the one he just fucked. But the one who didn’t even know the power she held over him.
The hot water scalded his skin, but it wasn’t enough to burn her out of his mind.
Damien braced his hands against the tile wall, breathing heavily as the water streamed down his back.
He’d just fucked a woman whose name he didn’t even bother to ask.
And yet-his body was betraying him.
Fuck.
He’s hard.. again!
Harder than he’d been with the woman moments ago.
Because this time, it wasn’t anonymous.
It wasn’t faceless.
It was her. The image of her flooded him like a curse he couldn’t shake.
His hand moved down. Slowly. Begrudgingly.
He shouldn’t.
He didn’t do this.
But now?
He fucking needed to.
He gritted his teeth, groaning low as his hand gripped around his shaft, stroking harder with each passing second.
He imagined her pressed against the glass of his office window-bare, breathless, trembling. That innocence in her eyes twisted with the way he’d bend her to his will. How she’d gasp when he took control-shocked at the side of herself she’d never known existed.
How she’d say his name.
No moaning, no screaming-just that one soft gasp:
Damien.
Wide-eyed. Breathless. His hand on her throat. Her legs trembling under his touch.
Mine.
He’d bend her over his desk, make her say his name. Cry out for him. Break for him.
Not gentle. Never that.
But never cruel, either.
Only his.
He gritted his teeth, strokes growing faster. Rougher.
Possessive.
She wouldn’t need to beg.
He’d know what she wanted.
He’d give it to her.
But no one else could.
No one else would touch her.
Ever.
The pressure built like a damn breaking inside his chest.
And when he came this time, it wasn’t empty.
