Page 86 of Give In

Eden

DC:Any luck?

I glared at my phone in disbelief, and not just because I had no clue when Damien had added himself to my phone contacts.

After hardly any sleep, my alarm had gone annoyingly wild. When I’d shifted to silence the monster, I’d realized I was still tucked in the arms of a bigger one. How I’d fallen asleep with Damien’s hand on my neck was a mystery I had no intention of trying to solve.

What I couldn’t hide from, however, was how well I’d slept.

Damien had told me to stay in his bed all day, but when he’d made it clear it wasn’t so he could make me come, I’d declined, saying I needed to get ready for class.

‘Get ready for class’ was apparently new code for ‘masturbate until I require IV rehydration and a Costco-sized supply of replacement batteries’.

I’d tried.

And tried.

And tried.

I’d assumed it would take only a quick gust of wind to set me off, but that hadn’t been the case. My vibrator was drained, each sputtering buzz the valiant yet ineffective effort of my trusty plastic lover. My wrist was so sore, I was beginning to worry I’d given myself a nasty case of carpal tunnel syndrome. And my back ached, both from the uncomfortable contorting and the tension that squeezed my bones.

And it was all Damien’s fault.

I’d tried my list of go-to imaginary lovers, each obsessed with bringing me their own brand of hotness.

Idris’ passionate love making.

Charlie-slash-Jax’s rough fucks on the back of his bike.

Jason’s athletic marathon sex, sinister and so dirty.

Raunchy, secret, up against a brick wall fucking with Negan.

Michael B.’s sexy as hell smile.

And Jamie’s biteable ass flexing.

But one by one, each dream man had shifted to become a certain asshole professor.

Desperate and running out of time, I’d finally given into the fantasy of Damien, assuming that would do the trick. The detonating cord had been lit, and I’d been about to explode when his threat had echoed through my head.

‘You do that, my depraved angel, and youwillbe punished.’

I’d thought I’d been cool with that. Nothing could be worse than the pain of being that aroused. Plus, he’d never know.

Yet each time I’d gotten close, his voice would float through my head, reminding me that he’d said no.

All my efforts to get past that mental hurdle had only left me needier than when I’d begun. Wet and swollen and borderline delirious, I’d contemplated texting Damien to beg him to tell me it was okay, willing to offer up my kidney, my right arm, or whatever other body part he might want in exchange.

I’d told myself that was the stupidest, most asinine thing ever. Damien wasn’t in charge of me. He didn’t call the shots. My body was my own.

I was woman, hear me fucking roar.

Except, it wasn’t him being the cock-block… err, the clam jam. My own brain had thrown a clit-fit because part of mewantedto follow his rules. Not because of his threats and consequences, I just… did. A lot. Enough that my warring brain had refused to let me come, locking my body in a perpetual state ofoh-my-fucking-God-I’m-going-to-cry-if-I-don’t-orgasm-right-now.

I couldn’t come, thanks to Damien’s voodoo mind control that he’d somehow brainwashed me with. But I needed to come, thanks to Damien’s relentless teasing and buildup.

Stuck in a stand-off with myself, I’d ended up sprawled out and on the edge.

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