*Isabella's POV*
Damien looked down at my squirming, pathetic form one last time, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he turned, beginning to walk away, leaving me a fucking mess on the couch.
"Wait," I said, my voice so low it was barely a whisper, but I knew he heard it. He always heard me.
He stopped, but he didn't turn around. "What?" he asked, his voice cold, clipped, like he was talking to a stranger.
"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"To bed," he said, turning his head just enough to deliver the line with a dismissive finality before starting to walk away again, leaving me there, squirming and aching.
Panic, hot and sharp, shot through me. I scrambled up, grabbing his wrist, stopping him before he got too far. "Damien," I whimpered, my voice cracking. "Are you seriously gonna leave me like this?"
He slowly turned back to face me, a slow, fucking infuriating smirk spreading across his lips. "Why not?" he said, the question a casual, cruel taunt.
"I'm your girlfriend," I said, the words sounding weak and pathetic even to my own ears.
"And Jacob's" he countered, his voice dropping to a low, possessive growl.
And that's when it hit me. That's when I finally fucking realized what he was playing at. This wasn't just about him being an asshole. He was going to make me work for it. He was going to make me fucking beg for his dick.
"Damien," I pouted, trying for cute and seductive, but it came out as a fucking whine. Pathetic.
"What?" he smirked, the asshole, acting like he had no goddamn clue what he was doing to me.
"What do you want, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a sickeningly sweet purr, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was dark, predatory, and it promised to fucking ruin me.
"You know," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing with heat. I couldn't believe I had to spell this shit out.
"Know what, sweetheart?" he smirked again, enjoying every second of my torment. This fucking ass.
"You want a massage? Food?" he said, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "Something else... maybe?" He turned back to me, slowly, deliberately, and knelt between my open legs. The sight of him there, fully dressed, on his knees before my naked form, was almost enough to make me come right then and there. I felt his hot breath ghost over my wet pussy, and I had to bite my lip to stop from moaning.
He moved higher up my body, his face inches from my skin, but he never once fucking touched me. It was pure, exquisite torture. He traveled up my stomach, past my breasts, until his face was hovering right above mine, his lips so close I could almost taste him.
"What do you want?" he whispered, his voice a low, commanding growl that vibrated through my entire body. "Tell me. I want you to beg for it."
"I want you," I whimpered, the words torn from my throat. "All of you."
He just shook his head, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes darkening to an almost black shade. "You're still not being clear, Isabella," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT." He articulated each word, a sharp, disjointed command that made my whole body flinch.
"I want you to fuck me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling foreign and dirty on my tongue.
"What?" he asked, his smirk growing wider, a cruel, beautiful curve on his lips. "What was that?" he continued, leaning in just a fraction, pretending he couldn't hear me.
"I want you to fuck me," I said, a little louder this time, my cheeks burning with shame. "I want you inside me."
And then he did the last thing I expected. He pulled back, a look of mock disappointment on his face, and began to walk away again.
"Oh well," he said, his voice light and casual, as if we were discussing the weather. "I can't give something I can't hear. How will I know what to give you?" The condescending son of a bitch.
Panic and frustration boiled over inside me, a hot, volatile mix. "I want you to fuck me!" I spat out, the words sharp and loud, a desperate cry. I looked away, unable to stand the sight of his predatory, triumphant gaze. "I want you to fucking ruin me."
"Ask and you shall receive," he said, his voice a low, triumphant sound that sent a shiver straight down my spine. A predatory, fucking gorgeous smile grew on his face as he turned back to me, his eyes roaming shamelessly over my naked body, devouring every inch of me like I was his last meal.
He reached down, grabbing my arm, and pulled me roughly to my feet. I stumbled, slamming against his hard, clothed body. "Fuck," I muttered, the word torn from my lips as the contrast between my naked skin and the rough fabric of his suit sent a jolt of electricity through me.
Before I could even process it, he bent me over the armrest of the couch, the plush velvet a soft pressure against my stomach. One of his hands clamped down on my hip, a possessive, grounding force, while the other wrapped around my neck, his fingers pressing gently into my skin. He pulled my upper body up, forcing my shoulders to press against his chest, my back arching away from him in a perfect, submissive curve that left me completely exposed and at his mercy. My breath hitched, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was it. This was what I'd begged for. And I was more fucking terrified of how much I wanted it than what he was going to do to me.
He didn't waste a second. He crashed his lips against mine, a rough, punishing kiss that was all teeth and tongue and raw, unfiltered need. It wasn't gentle; it was a fucking claim, a branding. He tasted of dominance and a dark, possessive hunger that made my head spin and my knees weak. If he hadn't been holding me up, I would have collapsed right there on the floor.