Page 42 of Lethal Devotion
Damian is staring at the screen as if he wants to devour me, jaw clenched, the muscles in his arm and stomach flexing as he strokes his cock feverishly, a groan spilling from his mouth as he gets off to me touching myself.
A strange mix of emotions floods through me—embarrassment, shock, but also something that might be arousal. The thought of Damian watching these videos, of him seeing me like this and wanting me enough to seek out more, makes heat pool low in my belly. It only makes me all the more convinced that he’s lying when he says that he wants this marriage to be one in name only.
Last night, he told me not to come back to his room. But as Iwatch him, heat spreads through me, and I think I know exactly how to get what I thinkIwant.
I’m not entirely sure what that is. I know I want to please him, to make sure that he wants me to stay, to make sure that he doesn’t feel like I owe him a debt when this is all over. But what doIwant? I’m not entirely sure. I don’t know if I want to go all the way, if I want to fuck him, but I know I want more of what happened last night. I want to know how other things might feel.
I want to explore, and he’s my husband. I’m his wife. I don’t see what could possibly be wrong with it.
An idea is forming—dangerous and probably stupid, but I can't shake it. If Damian won't admit he wants me, if he keeps running every time we get close, maybe I need to force his hand. Make it impossible for him to deny what's between us. Maybe I need to tempt him into doing more.
I back away from the door slowly, making sure he doesn’t see me as I go back to my room. I get dressed for the day, starting what’s begun to feel like a routine, but I can’t get the thought that’s started forming in my head not to linger.
It stays throughout the day. Through breakfast and lunch, swimming in the pool and going for a walk around the estate, through dinner and reading after, all the way up until I find myself back in my room, nervous and trembling at the thought of what I want to do.
It’s clear that Damian can be tempted. That he wants me, even if he’s fighting it. So all I have to do is keep pushing a little, just a little at a time, until I find out how farIwant to go.
I know he’s not in his room yet. I overheard him talking to Konstantin about having a drink in the study after dinner, so I have a few minutes, at least, to do what I’m thinking of doing.
Adam is in bed, soundly asleep. The house is quiet. I pad down the hallway to Damian’s room, slowly opening the door, and I find that the room is empty, exactly as I thought it would be.
My heart races, my pulse thudding in my throat. He might be angry with me. A few days ago, that would have utterly terrified me, but now it makes me feel something else, something strange that Idon’t entirely understand. It’s as if, after last night, the feeling of fear when it comes to Damian also translates to a strange sort of arousal.
I think of the video I saw him watching. There’s no desk in here for me to bend over, so I decide to do something different. I go to the armchair next to his bar cart, and slide my sleep shorts off, dropping them on the floor in a spot where he can’t miss them, leaving me in only my silky cami and the lace thong I wore underneath the shorts. I sit sideways in the armchair, draping my legs over the side of it, and put one foot on the arm, tugging my panties to the side so that when he walks in, he’ll see my fingers between my legs.
The anticipation has me wet already. I can feel my arousal, damp against my fingertips. It’s not the first time I’ve done this thinking that someone else will be watching, obviously, but it feels different. My pulse flutters wildly in my throat, and I keep second-guessing myself. What if he's angry? What if this pushes him even further away?
But then I remember the way he touched me last night, the hunger in his eyes, the way he groaned my name when he came. Whatever his reasons for pulling back, they're not because he doesn't want me.
I hear a sound, and I bite my lip, pressing my fingers between my wet folds, making sure I’m arranged in a way that looks seductive. I watch the door as I hear the footsteps on the stairs, footsteps that are heavy, definitely masculine. I hear him pause outside of the door, and when it opens, I'm ready.
It takes him a moment to see me. He looks around the room, clearly sensing that something is off, and then he sees the pink shorts on the floor. His gaze shoots to the side, and I see him freeze as he sees me draped over his armchair, my hand between my thighs.
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then his expression darkens, and he steps inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice is rough, dangerous, but I can see the way his eyes are devouring me. I can see his hands flex at his sides, the tension in his muscles. It frightens me more than a little—he always does—but now I find it arousing too. Now that I know what those hands can do to me.
I bite my lip. “Waiting for you.” I see the confusion in his eyes, warring with arousal, and I spread my legs a little wider, gliding my fingertips over my clit. “I saw you this morning,” I whisper. “Watching me while you?—”
“So you spied on me,” he interrupts, his tone dark and forbidding. “I told you not to come back into my room, Sienna.”
“I didn’t. Not this morning. I just… saw.”
“But you’re in here now.” His eyes narrow. “And you’re wearing panties.”
My heart leaps in my chest, thinking that he’s going to cave, that his desire is already overtaking his reservations. But his expression only darkens.
“Get dressed, Sienna,” he snaps. “Now.”
"Why?" I slide my hand between my legs, gasping softly at the contact. "So you can go back to pretending you don't want me? So you can watch more videos instead of touching the real thing?"
I’m playing with fire, and I know it. But I also know that men like to be teased. Damian is a dangerous man to bait… but a part of me, a wild, uncontrolled part that I’ve never gotten to indulge, wants to know what he’s like when his control snaps.
"Sienna." There's a warning in his voice, but also something else. Hunger.Need. I can hear it rasping in his throat, see the tick of the muscle in his jaw.
"I'm right here, Damian." I circle my clit with one finger, spreading my folds with the other two, letting him see exactly what I'm doing. “This felt better when you did it last night. Did my hand feel better than yours too? We could do that again.” I bite my lip, letting a soft, gasping noise slip out as I feel a jolt of pleasure race through me. This feels better than it ever has before. Maybe it’s because Iwantthe audience watching me now.
I see him swallow hard. “You don’t need to do this, Sienna.”
