Like he was doing me a favor.
We had been dating for over a year, and I thought it meant something to go to his grandmother’s estate for the weekend. But she was shopping in Paris. His father was working, and his mother was getting a little something done around the eyes. His brothers had lives of their own to attend.
No one cared that we were there. Jason merely wanted to show off the ancient, expensive estate and screw me in his childhood bed.
So now, I’m screwing him.
Damian’s breath is steady against the back of my neck, slower now, deeper. He isn’t asleep. He’s too aware for that. I can feel it in the way his fingers flex absently at my hip, like he’s still half deciding what to do with them.
I tilt my head just enough to look back at him. Up close, he looks different than he did downstairs. Less composed. Less armored. His silver hair is mussed, his jaw relaxed, blue eyes darker than before, like something has finally taken the edge off him.
“This is…reckless,” he murmurs, not moving.
I smile. “You already said that.”
“And you didn’t argue.”
“My mouth was full.”
He exhales softly, a quiet laugh vibrating through his chest. “You’re dangerous.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Silence settles again, but it isn’t awkward. It’s charged. Waiting. The kind that stretches until someone breaks it on purpose. His hand slides slowly up my side, unhurried, exploratory. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just asking.
Nothing like his son.
I answer by shifting closer, pressing back into him, letting my body say yes before my mouth ever could.
That’s all it takes.
The air changes instantly. His arm tightens, his other hand coming up to cradle my jaw, turning me so he can kiss me properly this time. It’s deeper than before. Slower. Like he’s no longer pretending this is a lapse in judgment and has decided to fully participate.
I kiss him back with equal intent, my hand sliding across his chest, feeling the solid warmth there, the steady heartbeat underneath. He groans softly, the sound low and restrained, and it sends a shiver straight through me. We peel away layers, and my dress flashes through the air.
Finally naked except for my mask, we roll together without breaking contact, the bed shifting beneath us, the room narrowing down to heat and breath and the soft slide of skin. There’s nothing rushed about it. No frantic need. Just inevitability.
I pull back just long enough to look at him. “Still okay not knowing my name?”
His gaze flicks to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “Right now, I don’t want anything that makes this real.”
I grin. “Good.”
But it is. It’s all real, and that’s the point. It’s real enough to crush Jason. Real enough to ruin his engagement to my evil sister.
Once we start again, there’s no pretending this is casual.
The shift is subtle at first—his hand firming at my hip, my fingers curling into his shoulder—but the intention snaps into place fast. Whatever restraint he was practicing downstairs is gone. Whatever line I thought we were dancing around evaporates the second he pulls me closer, and I let him.
He presses me back onto the bed, sliding on top of me like he belongs there. His hand curls around my neck and his thumb lines my jaw as he stares into my eyes. “Take off the mask?”
“Never.”
He nods once, and as he kisses me, his cock nudges against my wet pussy. I can’t deny that my body wants this man. He’s the same man who raised Jason, and it’s hard to forgive that, but I do anyway, cocking my hips to receive him.
When he thrusts in, we both gasp and groan. We move together like we’ve both agreed this moment deserves time. He kisses me deeper, slower, like he’s learning me instead of just reacting. I feel it in the way he pauses, adjusts, waits for my response before continuing.
I’m not used to that. He doesn’t hammer into me until he’s done. He’s paying attention to me.
