Everyone thought Kiera lived a perfect life. Polished. Controlled. Predictable. She smiled when she had to, walked with purpose, and played the part of a good daughter in her father's cold, political world. But no one knew the secrets she kept hidden beneath that calm surface. No one knew about the man who haunted her nights.
Damien.
Older. Dangerous. Quiet. Her father's head of security. A man with scars on his knuckles and darkness in his eyes. He never spoke unless it was necessary, but when he looked at her, it was like he saw everything. Her fears. Her desires. Her loneliness. She was supposed to be off-limits—untouchable. But there was something about him. The way he stood too close. The way his fingers brushed her lower back when no one was watching. The way his eyes dropped to her lips every time she spoke, like he was imagining them wrapped around his cock. She hated how much she wanted him. Hated how she kept pushing his buttons, just to see what he’d do.
That night, she was reckless. She wore a silk slip under her robe and went to the kitchen barefoot, knowing he’d be there. Their eyes locked across the dark room. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. But she could feel the storm building. Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Her nipples peaked under the thin fabric, and his eyes dropped right to them. Slowly, she walked past him, brushing her fingers over the counter. Waiting.
“Go back to your room,” he said, voice rough like gravel.
She paused at the doorframe. “Make me.”
The silence between them cracked open. And in a second, he was on her—his hand fisting her hair, pulling her back into him, his breath hot against her ear.
“You think this is a fucking game, Kiera?”
She whimpered, thighs clenching. “What if it is?”
His mouth slammed onto hers, all teeth and hunger, one hand gripping her throat while the other yanked the robe from her shoulders. Her silk slip did nothing to hide the way her nipples hardened beneath his touch. He bit down on her lower lip, dragging a moan from her mouth as he pressed her against the cold kitchen wall, his cock already hard against her stomach.
“You like teasing me, huh?” he growled. “Walking around like a little fucking temptress, hoping I’ll lose control?”
“I want you to lose it,” she whispered, breathless. “I want you to ruin me.”
That was all it took.
He ripped the slip down, exposing her breasts to the chill in the air and his greedy stare. His hands were rough, calloused, sliding over her soft skin, cupping her tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers until she was squirming, crying out, dripping wet. Then he dropped to his knees.
His tongue found her pussy like he knew it belonged to him—licking, sucking, fucking her with his mouth until her head was thrown back, until her thighs were shaking. He moaned into her like she was his last meal, tongue circling her clit, fingers deep inside her cunt, hitting that spot that made her scream his name.
“Fuck—Damien—fuck—don’t stop—”
She came so hard her vision blurred, legs giving out, body trembling. But he wasn’t done.
He picked her up effortlessly, carrying her to the counter like she weighed nothing. Her back hit the cold marble, and he was already undoing his belt, cock hard, thick, leaking for her.
“You see this?” he hissed, stroking himself right in front of her soaked pussy. “This is what you fucking do to me. Every time you talk back. Every time you walk away. Every time I see you with that rich, plastic boy your daddy picked for you.”
She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock, biting her lip. “Then show me. Show me I’m yours.”
He slammed into her without warning—one deep thrust that had her crying out, nails digging into his shoulders. He fucked her hard, brutal, deep—every thrust making her tits bounce, every growl making her wetter. He filled her completely, each stroke dragging along her sensitive walls, her pussy clenching around him.
“Say it,” he growled into her ear. “Say this pussy’s mine.”
“All yours,” she moaned. “Yours—yours—fuck, Damien—”
He grunted, hips slamming into hers faster, rougher, his cock stretching her wide and fucking her open. The counter shook beneath them, her moans echoing in the kitchen, wet sounds and skin against skin filling the air. Her second orgasm hit like a wave, pussy spasming around him, her screams muffled against his shoulder.
“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he groaned. “You want it? Want my cum dripping out of this tight pussy?”
“Yes—please—give it to me—”
He shoved in deep, holding her in place as he came, cock twitching, spilling everything inside her. Thick. Hot. Claiming her from the inside out. He stayed there, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers, still inside her.
After a long silence, he spoke.
“I’m not letting you go, Kiera.”
She smiled, exhausted, body wrecked and satisfied. “Good. I don’t want to go.”
Because behind closed doors… she belonged to the monster.
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
