Page 69 of Deliah
The next morning, I woke to the smell of more fresh coffee and something warm and sugary. My eyes blinked open to see Damion standing at the edge of the bed, shirtless in grey joggers, tray in hand, wearing that same cocky, satisfied smirk he’d had the night before—like he’d conquered something.
“Morning, trouble,” he said, setting the tray down beside me. “Eat up. We’ve got places to be.”
I rubbed my eyes, still sore in all the best ways, and tried not to stare at his abs. “Places?”
“We’re going shopping. Now move, before I decide you’re staying in bed all day—for a different reason.”
My eyes lit up despite myself. “You’re taking me shopping?”
“Yes, really. Now get that cute little arse in gear.”
That man knew exactly what he was doing. I don’t care what anyone says—no one in a tracksuit should look that hot. Especially after the way he’d ruined me last night. I could still feel him. Still taste him. Still remember how it felt when his hands gripped my thighs like he owned them. I scrambled out of bed with a grin, trying not to let the butterflies show. I didn’t say anything—not about last night, not about how it made me feel—but the silence was buzzing. It was only our first time, and now he was spoiling me like this? Like I was his? I threw on something glam, layered with perfume and lip gloss, masking the frenzy in my head with eyeliner and attitude.
We drove down to Puerto Banús—where the sea sparkled like a fucking Cartier showroom and even the pigeons looked expensive. The air was thick with salt, money, and perfume that probably cost more than most people’s rent. It was the kind of place where girls didn’t wear bras and men didn’t check price tags.
Damion walked like he belonged there. Like I belonged with him. Louis Vuitton, Prada, Chanel—he dragged me through them all like a kid in a candy store, picking pieces like he’d spent his life dressing women in silk and secrets.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, murmuring against my ear, “This one. It’ll drive me fucking insane.”
“You saying you want me to behave?” I teased, holding up a backless red dress that was one wrong move away from illegal.
He looked me up and down slowly, his jaw twitching with restraint. “Not even a little.”
I should’ve been floating. On cloud nine. And part of me was. The other part? That messy, insecure voice inside my chest? It was panicking. This was fast. Intense. Real. But I kept mymouth shut. Smiled. Let him spoil me. He carried my bags like a gentleman, held my hand like a boyfriend, pulled me into him like something much more dangerous. Told me I was beautiful at least five times—and once when I was just cackling at my own joke, nearly tripping over a kerb.
He paused, thumb brushing a smudge of gloss from my lip. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me when you laugh like that.”
A shiver crept down my spine. It was the way he said it. Low. Possessive. Like I was already his and he hadn’t decided whether that was a good thing or not. I swallowed. “Don’t go all soft on me now, Daddy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about soft?”
God. Help me.
We stopped for lunch at a boujee terrace overlooking the water, all white linen and overpriced olives. He ordered us champagne like it was water, and I was too giddy to pretend I didn’t love every second of it. “Only you could walk into Gucci, flirt with the sales girl, and get us free champagne,” I teased, swirling the glass between my fingers.
He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “She was flirting with you, actually. I just enjoyed the view.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jealous?”
“Of her? Nah.” He leaned in close, voice dropping. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to bend you over the counter when you tried on that little black dress.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “You’re a menace.”
He clinked his glass to mine. “You love it.”
He grabbed my chin, just enough pressure to make me pause, and kissed me—slow, soft, filthy in its sweetness. My heartfluttered. My body remembered everything. I wanted him all over again, and yet somehow I was still sore from the night before. Still reeling. I was floating. Spoiled. And underneath it all… terrified. Because no one had ever treated me like this. And I didn’t know what to do with that kind of kindness.
After we’d eaten, I stretched out on the lounger and looked over at him, still half dazed from the champagne and the way he’d spoiled me all day. But something about him still had me curious—like the more he gave, the more I wanted to know why.
“So… can I ask you something?”
He didn’t look up from his drink. “You’re going to anyway.”
“Fair. But… how did you get into all this?”
He raised a brow. “All what, exactly?”
“This. The whole dominant, in control, punish-me-if-I-misbehave thing. You weren’t born this way.”
