“You’ve done good work,” he murmured. “But there’s something else we need to discuss.”
“And that would be?”
His hand rested on my thigh. Fingers deliberate. Unhurried. Sliding beneath the hem of my dress without hesitation.
“Damian…” My voice faltered, my heart stumbling over itself.
“I like the way you say my name. Say it when I fuck you.”
“I thought you were going to control yourself.”
“We both know I’m not capable of that.” His hand lingered possessively on the inside of my thigh.
A rush of heat tore through me. I tried to anchor myself in the sanctity of the library—the centuries-old table, the sacred manuscripts, the oppressive silence of this place. But none of it was stronger than his touch. None of it could stop him. His hand crept higher, and I held my breath.
“Damian… we’re… we’re in the Vatican Library.”
His lips touched my cheek. No gentleness. Only fire. “Then you’d better be very quiet.”
I wanted to protest, to pull away. I couldn’t.
“Doyou know how insane it drives me not to be able to have you?”
His fingers pressed against my underwear, finding the most sensitive part of me. A shiver cut through my body. When a quiet gasp slipped out, he shoved the fabric aside and whispered, “Quiet now. Or do you want someone to walk in?”
My head tilted, my fingers digging into the edge of the table.
“I’m not going to fuck you. Not yet. But I’m going to remind you how badly you want it.” His touch was hard, merciless. Fingers circling, demanding. I lost everything. The sanctity of the room, the weight of history—it all fell away. There was only his voice in my ear, and his hand between my legs.
“I want you to know what it feels like when I touch you and you can’t scream. When you come and no one hears it. When you want everything and I give you nothing.”
A whimper broke free. Inevitably, I spread my legs.
“That’s it, Daisy. Let me feel your heat.”
My body shook.
“You’re already soaked. Do you imagine what it would feel like if my cock were inside you right now?” His fingers drove into me, hard enough that a moan tore loose. “Shh… do you imagine me fucking you until you break apart?” He pulled back, only to thrust again, relentless. “Do you imagine me finishing in your mouth, my cum coating your tongue?” His palm crushed against my clit while his fingers plunged deeper, merciless.
The tension snapped. A sharp pull coiled in my belly and then unraveled in violent waves, each one hotter, fiercer than the last. Icame undone around his fingers, clenching, breaking apart, every nerve shattering with pleasure.
He pulled his hand from me, but the burn stayed, seared deep. It was a darkness, a curse I would carry. I sat wrecked—shaken, desperate, addicted.
Then he slid his fingers into my mouth. “Suck. Taste yourself.”
And I did.
“Oh fuck, Daisy,” he groaned. “That makes me so hard. It’s taking everything I have not to clear this table, bend you over it, and fuck you until you forget how to breathe.”
Later that evening, Damian took me to a club calledLa Roma.
“The owner is a friend,” he explained as we moved through the crowd.
The music throbbed, lights cutting faces into shimmering shards. He led me into a lounge where several people lingered. A striking woman rose the moment she saw him. Her body moved like molten red silk, her dress clinging. When she greeted Damian with a kiss on the mouth, something inside me twisted.
“Alessandra. It’s been a long time.” His voice softened in a way I hadn’t heard before. “This is Daisy Elfhorn. She’s helping me research an artifact.”
Alessandra smiled and extended a hand.
