Chapter 169: No Escape From The Devil (R18+)

​A bitter, defiant smirk pulled at her bruised lips as she leaned into his grip, throwing every word straight into his teeth.

​"I didn’t take Delgado’s offer because I don’t steal what isn’t mine. I am not Robert Xander, and I am not Gregory Hall. I don’t build my legacy on another man’s broken back or run off into European shadows like a thief in the night. I will honor every single line of that goddamn hundred-million-dollar contract. I will stand beside you until Sterling Global owns the board, I will settle my family’s ledger to the last cent... and the second the ink dries, I will walk out of your life with my head held high."

​Her chest heaved against his, her voice dropping to a venomous, ragged whisper.

​"You don’t own me, Damian Sterling. You never will."

​Damian didn’t flinch. He didn’t rage.

​Instead, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrated deep within his broad chest... a dark, wicked sound that scraped down Ana’s spine, sending an involuntary, icy shiver dancing across her bare arms.

​His hand slid down from her jaw, wrapping firmly around the back of her neck to pull her forward until his lips hovered barely a millimeter from her ear, his hot breath scorching her skin.

​"Liar," he purred, the word thick with absolute, terrifying certainty.

​His other hand drifted down her side, his fingers sinking possessively into the exposed silk of her thigh, his thumb pressing right where her pulse thrummed hot and frantic against her skin.

​"You can lie to Delgado. You can lie to the board. You can even lie to yourself, little bird," Damian rasped against her ear, his teeth grazing the sensitive shell with deliberate, biting pressure. "Tell yourself whatever bedtime story keeps your pride alive. But don’t look into my eyes and tell me you feel nothing. Not when I can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Not when your body screams my name the second I lay hands on you."

​He pulled back just enough to catch her furious, shining eyes, his obsidian gaze burning right through her defenses.

​"You’re never walking out of that door, Anastasia. You tied your soul to mine the moment you refused to run."

Damian crushed his mouth down onto hers, obliterating the last shred of her biting defiance with a deep, punishing kiss. His tongue parted her lips without resistance, tasting the fire on her breath, coaxing a helpless, ragged moan from her throat that echoed against the marble vanity.

When he finally wrenched his mouth away, a thin, silver thread broke between them, both of them gasping for the heavy air of the suite.

​He took two deliberate steps back, his imposing chest rising and falling beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt.

​"Strip," he commanded, his gravelly voice dropping to a low, raw frequency that brooked no argument. "Take off every scrap of silk on your skin. Then sit on the bed and wait for me."

​Ana remained perched on the vanity for a single, trembling heartbeat, her hazel eyes locked with his. The room felt suffocating, charged with the sheer gravitational pull between them. The sharp armor she had worn through the gala... the pristine composure, the aristocratic defiance... began to crack, undone by the fever coursing through her veins.

​Her fingers moved to the delicate side zipper of the midnight gown. With a slow, fluid sweep, she drew it down, letting the dark silk whisper over her hips and pool in a decadent heap at her feet on the polished floorboards.

​Damian’s breath hitched in the shadows, his hands curling tight at his sides.

​Ana didn’t look away. Holding his obsidian gaze, she reached behind her back to release the clasp of her lace bra, letting the straps glide down her arms to bare the soft, pale swell of her breasts to the amber city glow. One by one, she slipped off the diamond cuffs and rings, her fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate path down the curve of her waist, savoring the shudder that ran through his rigid frame at the sight of her touch.

Finally, she hooked her thumbs into the delicate lace of her panties, sliding them down the long line of her bare legs before kicking them aside.

​She stood entirely uncovered before him, her skin painted in gold by the skyline.

​Moving with an agonizing, poised grace, she crossed the plush carpet toward the sprawling king-sized bed. Though she folded her arms loosely over her chest... a lingering, instinctive attempt at modesty against his piercing gaze... there was no true hesitation in her step.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, sinking into the dark linen duvet, her lips parted as her chest heaved with shallow, desperate breaths.

​A slow, wicked smirk spread across Damian’s lips. The predator inside him roared with absolute triumph.

​She wasn’t running. Beneath all the venom, the pride, and the barbed words, her unvarnished surrender laid her soul bare. She was putting on a show for the only man alive allowed to witness it... giving in to the identical, consuming madness that burned him alive, craving his claim just as violently as he burned to take it.

He stripped away his clothes with agonizing, deliberate calm, never once releasing her from his predatory stare. Ana’s breath caught in her throat as he crossed the room, the raw, imposing reality of him closing the space between them. His rough thumb dragged across her parted lower lip a second before his mouth crashed down, claiming her with brutal certainty.

Her hands instinctively tangled into his dark hair, but he gave her no leverage... His grip caught her waist, forcing her back against the mattress and locking both her wrists flat above her head. He deepened the assault on her senses, trailing scorching bites and fevered kisses down the sharp line of her jaw, along her bruised neck, and over her bare shoulder, drawing raw, helpless cries into the dark.

He whispered darkly on her skin. "I love when you moan out loud. How your body instantly accepts my touch and dominance."

​His lips grazed the burning curve of her neck, a gravelly whisper scraping against her skin about how much he savored every broken cry torn from her throat, and how effortlessly her body bent to his authority.

His mouth dragged lower, claiming the swell of her chest with fevered, punishing intent, his hands leaving no doubt of his ownership. Ana’s spine arched off the mattress, a sharp gasp catching in her throat as her fingers twisted desperately into his dark hair, entirely undone by his touch.

He growled against her skin and parted her legs... His fingers now tracing her hot heat between her legs. "You’re so wet for me.... How do you lie that you hate me?" Ana whimpered when he entered her with his fingers playing with her pleasure. "Do you feel this way to someone you claim to hate ? You want me to believe that pathetic lie?"

​A broken, breathless moan slipped past Ana’s lips... a raw, fractured plea stripped of all pride. She needed him, the desperate ache inside her burning through every defense she had left. Damian’s low, wicked chuckle scraped against the dark. "Beautiful little liar," he murmured, his obsidian eyes burning right through her. "I’ll give you what you’re begging for. But in return, I’m taking every scrap of your body and soul you have left to give."

Saying that he positioned himself right before her core and entered her hard, all the way inside making her shudder in pleasure. As if some restraint broke in Damian he parted her legs further and moved hard and slowly inside her then he picked up the pace into never ending euphoria.

He began to move... slowly at first, a torturous, deep grind that maximized every inch of contact, savoring the way she clung to him. Then, the rhythm shifted. The slow burn ignited into a fierce, relentless pace.

He hammered into her with raw, unchecked power, each thrust a claim, each movement driving her deeper into a state of never-ending euphoria. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the room, a rhythmic testament to his absolute dominance and her involuntary surrender to the pleasure.

​Ana’s fingers twisted violently into the tangled linen, a fractured, breathless cry torn from her throat. A low growl rumbled in Damian’s chest at the searing heat enveloping him. He glanced down at the seam where their bodies met, then dragged his dark gaze back up to her face. This was the sight he craved... the untouchable strategist completely undone, writhing beneath his weight, entirely at his mercy and stamped as his.

Every line of her resistance dissolved as she tightened around him, helpless against the cadence driving her over the brink.

"Damian... faster... please!"

A dark, triumphant chuckle rumbled in his chest. Hearing the untouchable Anastasia Vance reduced to pleading beneath him was intoxicating. He drove into her with relentless force... rewarding her surrender with the very euphoria she tried so hard to deny.

Her inner thighs shook as she came hard while him thrusting relentlessly inside her.

Damian lifted her legs up around his torso, locking himself extremely to her core and chased his release. Filling her completely with his all. Pumping into her every drop of him.

"Mine... You’re mine Anastasia."