Page 46 of Firethorne
“If I hadn’t knocked your drink over earlier, you’d be bent over that sofa, too,” Damien whispered in my ear.
My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and through my gritty, dry throat, I asked, “What are you on about?”
“The drink.” Damien’s voice was so close his hot breath tickled my neck, making goosebumps prickle as I tried to regulate my breathing. “He spiked it. I watched him do it. He wanted you to be relaxed tonight because this is what he had planned for you. This is what they both wanted. To play with you, even if you weren’t conscious and able to consent. They don’t care about technicalities like that.”
I couldn’t speak.
Was that really what was going to go down tonight?
Was he telling me the truth?
I didn’t want to believe him, but why would he lie?
The evidence was clear for me to see.
But at the same time, I didn’t feel the furious rage, the all-consuming anger I thought I would at seeing something like this.
Was there something wrong with me?
Eventually, I found my voice and asked, “Why did you show me this?”
“I’m building you up to the big stuff,” Damien replied.
“Big stuff?” I frowned.
Did it get any bigger than this?
“This house isn’t what you think it is,” he said, his voice gruff, low, and so close to my ear it sent a shiver down my spine. “And the people here aren’t either.”
“I think I know exactly what you all are,” I replied, my voice so breathy, I didn’t recognise it as my own.
“Angels and demons.” Damien sighed, the heat from his body warming my back as he stood close to me. “Heaven and hell. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you got onto that train to come here, did you?”
“And you had no idea who you invited into your home that night, did you?” I shot back, and Damien gave a low, gruff laugh.
“See, now I’m taking that as a challenge.” And leaning so close his lips grazed my ear, he whispered, “Why should they have all the fun?”
I stood still, my heart a physical beat, thumping through my chest, my breath so shallow I was quietly gasping, but I didn’t move as Damien’s hand touched my thigh, delicate fingers tracing gentle strokes on my skin. I felt his fingers make a slow trail across the front of my thigh, then dip between my legs, slowly moving up, and my traitorous body responded to him, my legs opening a little wider to allow him better access.
“Do you like watching them?” he asked as his fingers went higher and higher, heading to a place where I wanted him to be, that I needed him to touch. It didn’t matter that it was Damien, and this was all kinds of wrong; I wanted it. My pussy was soaked, aching, needing what he was promising.
I didn’t answer his question; I couldn’t speak, but he went on, asking me, “Do you wish that was you? Do want to be bent over like that and feel yourself being stretched, taking his cock like a good girl? Do you?”
I made a whimpering sound as I felt Damien’s finger graze over the silk of my underwear, and he hissed, “Answer me, Maya. Do you want him?”
“No. Yes.” I could barely formulate a thought, let alone a sentence.
“Which is it?” Damien demanded. “Yes, or no?”
“Yes.” I stilled, waiting for him to touch me, willing him to.
“Yes, what?”
He didn’t move.
His body stilled against mine, his front to my back.
His breath heated the skin on my neck and his hand lingered between my legs, fingers dancing so close—so, so fucking close.
