Damian.
The name doesn’t cross my lips. It doesn’t even try. Because I wouldn’t dare. Not without his permission. Not when every nerve in me knows he hasn’t given it.
The realization makes my grin twist sharp and feral even through the wreckage. Because that’s how far gone I am. That’s how deep this leash cuts. He doesn’t need to forbid it—I justknow.
And I love it. I love every second of it.
He catches the grin instantly. Of course he does. His eyes narrow, burning down into me like he can see the secret sitting on my tongue. His grip on my cock slows, his fist in my hair tightens.
“What’s so funny, pup?”
I shake my head, breath wrecked. “Nothin’, sir.”
“Liar.” His forehead presses hard against mine. “You’re grinning like a brat who thinks he’s clever. Tell me. Now.”
My laugh cracks, delirious, half-moan, half-cackle. “Just…realized something.”
His cock grinds against my hip through his jeans, his palm squeezing me harder, dragging another broken whimper out of me. “Spit it out.”
I bite my lip, shaking, grinning wider even as I gasp through it. “Never called you by your name. Not once. Wouldn’t. Not unless you gave me permission.”
The words detonate between us.
His hand clamps harder at the back of my neck, pinning me to the wall. His jaw ticks, his breath rough.
And then—he smirks.
“Good,” he rasps. “Even your tongue knows who owns it.”
My cock twitches helplessly in his fist. My grin splits wider, reckless and feral, even as my whole body trembles from being kept at the edge.
Because he’s right.
He owns me. Every sound. Every breath. Every word.
And I wouldn’t dare say his name without permission.
“On your knees,” he orders, suddenly yanking his hand away from my cock.
I whine, almost collapsing from the loss. My thighs quake, precum smeared wet across my stomach, but I obey. My body drops fast, knees hitting the hardwood with a dull crack. My grin doesn’t fade—it only sharpens, wider, madder—because I know this is only the start.
“Crawl,” he says. His voice isn’t raised. Doesn’t need to be. “Bedroom. Now.”
I’m grinning like a lunatic as I drop my palms to the floor and crawl forward..
The floor’s cold under my palms, my knees sliding. Every inch of me is humming—cock leaking down my thigh, lungsragged, grin still split across my mouth even as I crawl like a dog.
I can feel him behind me. Heavy steps. Calm, measured, inevitable. The kind of pace that makes my skin burn before he even touches me.
By the time I reach the bedroom door, my arms are trembling. I drag myself inside anyway. The room’s empty—just the bare mattress shoved against the wall, sheets half-wrung from sleep. Nothing else. Nothing to hide behind.
“Up.”
His voice cracks like a whip behind me. My whole body jerks. I scramble forward, brace my palms on the mattress, then bend. My chest pressed to the thin sheet, my ass high and waiting.
And then—finally—his hand.
Fingers dragging slow over the backs of my thighs, rough calluses catching against my skin. Up and up, tracing muscle, following the line of my spine until I shiver so hard my knees buckle against the bedframe.
