Ezra
“Ihate you.” I breathe, and Damien’s lips curl into an amused smirk before he thrusts a finger deep inside me. I whimper and curl my fingers at the base of his shirt.
“Do you?” Damien rasps, sliding his finger out and inserting a second, thrusting again while his thumb strokes against my clit. I bite my lip hard and fight the moan I so desperately want to release.
I tilt my head back a little and part my lips, panting as his thrusts get harder and more rhythmic. Damien uses his free hand resting on my waist and curls his fingers at my throat, pulling my head close, so our lips are almost touching. I want to kiss him so badly, taste him, feel his silky tongue duel with my own, but the stubborn bitch inside me refuses to give in, and he seems to have the same idea.
This was punishment, and the moment we kiss, it becomes intimate, more personal, and it would defeat the whole purpose. Between the battle in my mind and the building orgasm, I was losing grip on reality.
“You going to come for me, baby? You’re so fucking tight…” He whispers, his breath hot on mine. I feel my knees quiver as I near my release.
I scream inwardly when he presses his fingers hard against my g-spot and rubs, driving me closer to orgasm. My breathing quickens, and I feel that electric pulse building. I rock against his fingers and hear him growl in response. “Don’t move.” His fingers tighten around my throat, and I moan. I was seconds away from going over. I groan in frustration when he stops thrusting.
I feel that delicious state of pleasure begins to ebb away. Damien stills for a couple of seconds, which to me felt like an eternity, before he swirls his fingers inside me and thrusts deep, igniting my need all over again, building me up to orgasm. My body was on fire with lascivious desire, I crave him like nothing I ever have in my life, and I hate him for it.
He was toying with me, keeping me on edge for a while, but as usual, I was expecting him to take me over and make me come. Instead, he brought me so close, one tiny movement, and I would have exploded only for him to stop altogether slide his fingers out. I peel my eyes open, breathless, sweaty and watch as he lifts the fingers that were buried inside me and suck them clean before moaning throatily. “Mine.” He snarls, brushing his nose over mine before he smirks and pulls away, walking to the door.
“Yours? Like hell I am.” I watch him, confused, mouth agape, and brows drawn together. He did not just leave me all hot and bothered? He looks back at me, reaches out and flicks the lock on the door, and grins smugly—that rotten bastard. He had it locked the whole time. “Wait, you’re just going to leave me hanging?” I ask, and he licks his lips and raises his brows.
“Yes. That’s your punishment for pissing me off.” He tells me, and I continue to gawk at him in disbelief.
“You goddamn asshole.” I huff, yanking my skirt down, not even bothering with my panties. I pick up my shirt and look at it; it’s torn open. I couldn’t wear that. Damien shrugs off his denim jacket and holds it out to me. I walk over to him and try to take it, but he pulls it back and gestures for me to turn so he could put it on. I allow him to help me slide it on, and we walk out of the bathroom. “Goddamn it,” I grumble, following him down the corridor.
It’s been two days since the blow-up argument we had after the show he put on for me with that poor girl he whipped till she was screaming. I couldn’t bear to watch it all unfold; to see the kind of ‘activities’ he’s involved in made my stomach churn. When he said it got dark, I never imagined it being that bad. I could never give him that type of satisfaction, and he admitted to never wanting to do that to me…but regardless, he’ll still have the urge.
It hurt more than I would have liked to admit, knowing that I would never be good enough. After he told me to go, I did. I walked out of the room and jumped into a car that was waiting for me to take me home. Damien didn’t come home that night. I was furious, and I was hurting. I called our family lawyer to start the divorce procedure. Damien doesn’t know…yet. Even if he did, I doubt he would care. It was his idea to get a divorce in the first place, and he told me to go. I’m not sure what this means for the threat to my life, but I’m done caring. Let them kill me. Anything beats dealing with this ache deep in my chest.
Damien dragged me to the bathroom when I was openly flirting with the waiter right in front of him when we went to lunch. It was childish to provoke him like that, but he hurt me—he keeps hurting me, so I wanted him to feel…something. The only thing he felt was irritation, and he reminded me once again who was in control.
“Hurry up, Princess, the car is waiting.” He responds casually, just strolling toward the exit. I roll my eyes behind his back as I follow him. Sure enough, his black Audi is outside waiting for us.
“Hey bro.” A tall blond guy greets Damien, and they do that cool handshake most guys do. I stop and study the guy. He’s almost as tall as Damien, dirty blond hair cut short on the side and long on the top, which he keeps swept back. Chiseled facial features, full soft lips, and icy blue eyes almost as blue as mine. He caught me staring at him and smiles charmingly.
“Jax, thanks for dropping the car off man, I appreciate it,” Damien says, patting him on the shoulder. Jax—if I remember correctly, this was his friend.
“Wow, Ezra Quintero…” Jax drawls, nodding in my direction and ignoring the scathing look Damien just shot him for using my maiden name. “Huge fan.” He adds, holding out his large hand for me to shake. I nod and shake his hand briefly before Damien clears his throat and shoulders, Jax, out of his way. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Damien won’t shut up about you.” He teases, and Damien scowls at him.
“It’s Wolfe jackass.” He grumbles at his friend, who grins at him boyishly. “And why would I, fucking look at her?” I feel my cheeks burn under both men’s stare and avert my gaze to my feet.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Jax.” I smile politely, and he nods.
“All right, bro, I gotta dash. Call me. We need a catch-up. It’s been far too long.” He says, they shake hands again, and Jax walks off down the street toward another black car—a Nissan GTR waiting for him.
“He seems nice,” I say, walking around the car to the passenger side. Damien looks at me sideways before opening the car door for me.
“Get in.” He orders gravely, his eyes once again cold and unyielding. I think I touched a nerve. I get in the car, and Damien pushes the door shut, walking around to the driver’s side. He gets in, starts the car, and speeds off down the road. I glance out of the window as we drive, and the emotions I managed the push aside for a short while came rushing back to me full throttle.
How the hell am I going to get out of this toxic situation without getting myself killed? The second I leave Damien, the agency will be after me, not to mention the other hitmen hunting me down. “Ezra?” I jump out of my thoughts when I hear Damien calling my name.
“What?”
“I asked if you are okay?” He questions, glancing at me briefly before looking at the road again.
“I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s bull. We both know you’re anything but fine. Talk.” He asserts, frowning. I sigh and shake my head, looking out of my window.
“What’s to talk about?” I utter curtly, twirling the wedding band on my finger absentmindedly. “I feel lost.” Damien looks ahead, his eyes narrowed. “Everyone seems to want me dead for some reason I can’t seem to understand,” I answer bitterly, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I’m all alone, and that’s…terrifying.”