Chapter 5

5

Arya

There are pictures of me in every room of the house.

And most of them were taken through my old bedroom window.

In some of them, I’m working on my laptop. In others, I’m reading in bed with very little clothing on. Occasionally, as Damian carries me through the house, we come across pictures that consist of nothing but the curve of my elbow, her slope of my bottom, my lips, the triangle of underwear between my thighs. And when we reach his office, I’m completely nude in every single snapshot.

“I used to imagine you knew I was watching. That you were undressing just for me, putting on a show and letting me look, trying to convince me to come and get you.” He exhales into my hair. “I almost gave in so many times. Especially when you seemed sad. I hated it.”

I’m a levelheaded girl. I know I’m supposed to be worried by Damian’s clear obsession with me, but I’ve been obsessed with him for more than half my life. Even when I couldn’t see him, I knew he was there. I’ve depended on him. When I was alone and scared, his invisible presence made me feel safe and nothing has changed. I’m not surprised by the pictures, because all along, I sensed him watching me.

Walking through this place that houses the proof I wasn’t crazy all this time?

It’s more comforting than I could ever imagine.

And with every step through this beautiful house, my affection for him deepens and pushes out at the sides until I wonder if it’ll ever settle. Ever stop multiplying.

When we reach the orange grove, I know for sure it won’t.

There are a dozen trees under a glass dome and it’s hot and humid inside. But even as dew begins to prickle on my skin, all I can do is marvel. “How did you do this?” I ask, wiggling until he reluctantly sets me on my feet. “Orange trees on Long Island…”

He nods at the thermostat on the wall, then goes back to watching me vigilantly from beneath his eyelids. “It’s temperature controlled. And I have the soil shipped in from Florida.”

I take a huge whiff of the air and wrap my arms around myself giddily. “It smells like you, Damian.”

“It smells like us,” he says in a gruff voice, circling around the back of me, his intense regard making my spine tingle. “Arya, I have to speak with you about something important.”

“Okay…” I draw out, laughing nervously. “You can talk to me about anything.”

Even while rescuing me from a sniper and blackmailing my father, Damian was cool as a cucumber. For the first time, he actually seems like his composure it slipping. “I’m worried…” He shifts his stance. “I’m worried you’ll run from me.”

“I would never,” I whisper.

If possible, his eyes grow even more grave. Intense. “I grew up poor. I only got half an education because I was too busy working to support my family. But that day I met you on the subway steps, I knew I had to find a way to claw my way up. You made me believe I could and I wanted you to be proud of me, as crazy as that sounds. You were only a child.” He pauses. “I vowed to protect you from that day on, but then…ah, sweetheart, then you grew up and the need to prove myself, to build my fortune, it got a lot more urgent. It wasn’t just that I adored you, now I had to make you my wife or I’d go fucking insane. So I clawed. And that involved…killing. Contract killing at first. And then I started hiring my own guys. Started hiring them out for protection when they weren’t completing contracts. Then I expanded into gambling. This house was built with illegal money, but I can’t regret a single second. I can’t, because you’re here now and I’d do it all over again. You are mine. You’ve always been mine.”

“Yes. I am.” I go toward him, running my hands up the front of his chest. “I might be sheltered, Damian, but I know my father and his associates are just as corrupt as the men they prosecute. I hear the deals he makes, deals that hurt the people he’s meant to serve. Just because his corruption is prettier doesn’t make it better.” I go up on my toes and kiss his chin, his cheek, his mouth. “And maybe you’re a killer. Maybe you are a little—or a lot—bad. But you’re not bad to me.”

“Never,” he vows, dropping his forehead into the crook of my neck. “Never, never.”

“Since you did all this for me, Damian…” I tease the button his jeans with my fingertip. “Let me claim a little responsibility. That way we can be bad together.”

“No.” He surges forward and takes my mouth in a fervent kiss, his hands plowing into my hair to move me how he wants me. “No, you’re too sweet.”

“Then I can be sweet enough for the both of us,” I whisper.

He pants against my mouth while unzipping his jeans. I’m still reeling at the sight of him, thick and ruddy, protruding from a nest of black hair, when he reaches up and plucks an orange from one of the trees. He takes a bite and spits out the peel, then squeezes the orange over his erection, leaving it dripping in juices. I’m quaked by the inundation of lust inside me and it triples when he strips off his shirt, revealing a climbing wall of flexing muscle and sinew.

And there across his belly, my name is tattooed in blue ink.

“Damian,” I whisper, shaken.

His shaft stretches and lifts when I say his name. “Redeem me, Arya.”

You’re going to wrap your pretty mouth around my big bad cock so often, it’s going to taste like home.

I recall him telling me this in the SUV, but it was a someday thing. A skill to be learned later. But with the moment upon me, I am so eager to taste him, I shock myself by peeling the robe off my body and dropping it, falling to my knees in front of him and nuzzling my face in his lap. “Tell me what to do,” I whisper, looking up at Damian.

His eyes are almost black with arousal, chest heaving.

He grips a fistful of my hair and guides me closer. “Just suck the juice off for me, sweetheart.”

My lips stretch around his hard pole and as usual, the scent, the very hint of oranges makes my nipples bead, only now I know why. I know why my folds grow slick and why I writhe my hips up and back in the air while bobbing my mouth up and down on his thickness. His groans encourage me, as does his hand shaking in my hair.

“Oh fuck, Arya. Jesus. I can’t believe you’re here, sucking me off. Doing it so well, too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” His hips jerk up and back, spearing himself in and out of my mouth. “That’s my girl. That’s a good girl. A little deeper for your man. Please. Please. Just another inch.”

After only a few minutes with Damian in my mouth I’m already addicted. Having this powerful man shudder and gasp at the tiniest lick of my tongue or stroke of my hand. I’m never going to get enough of it and I show him that by opening my throat, letting him in deeper until I choke, tears springing to my ears, but it’s worth it. So worth it when he barks a curse and pulls out, my name heaving on his stomach.

He goes down on his knees and spins me around, pushing me forward onto my elbows. “Bend over and give me that tight pussy to finish in. Now.” His chest presses down on my back, his hot breath filling my ears, and then he fills me in one savage thrust. And he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t pause for even a second before he’s hammering into me, forcing screams from my throat that echo around the enclosed orange grove. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was worried you’d run from me. But you want to know a secret?” He sucks the side of my neck without gentleness, no doubt leaving another mark. “I was only worried you’d try. You wouldn’t have gotten far. The walls are high, my love. My obsession. You’re never getting away from me.”

God help me, that admission, delivered as his hips slap loudly against my bottom, makes my sex tremble and clench, release stampeding through me and leaving me facedown and sobbing while Damian works in and out of my spent flesh, finishing with a shout of triumph.

“I love you,” he grates into my neck, his sweat dripping onto my back and rolling down my spine. “You get one more surprise before I feed you and put you to bed.” He rolls me into his arms, stands and strides from the grove. “We’re getting married in the morning and I want you to be well rested.”

My mouth is hanging open. “Married? Tomorrow?” I sputter. “Where?”

“The courthouse.” His throat works. “The idea of a big wedding makes me too nervous, Arya. I don’t want that many people around you.”

I’m in shock from the fact that I’m going to be a married woman tomorrow. So when Damian settles me on my feet and opens the door to a room we haven’t been inside of yet, at first I don’t realize what I’m seeing. Until the barking starts.

Four little fur balls bound toward me, my eyes fill with tears and I swear they can hear my heart pounding on the moon.

“Puppies!”