Page 37 of Deliah

H is room was nothing like mine. Black sheets.

Grey walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows veiled by thick curtains.

Leather and steel, everything minimal and masculine.

It didn’t feel like a bedroom. It felt like a command centre.

A place where control lived and chaos begged to be ruled.

He let go of my hand and turned to face me.

“If we’re doing this,” he said slowly, voice laced with authority, “we’re doing it properly.”

I nodded, chest tight, thighs pressed. “Yes.”

“That means you do what I say. You don’t come until I say. You speak only when I ask. Deliah, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

He brushed my hair behind my ear, the soft gesture a contrast to the command in his voice. “Safe word?”

“Vanilla.”

He smiled, dark and slow. “Perfect.”

He stepped in. “Last chance. If you want out, say it now.”

I looked him dead in the eye, a slow grin curling on my lips. “How bad do you want me?”

His jaw twitched. In one smooth motion, his hand came up, firm around my neck—not tight, just enough to hold me there—and he tilted my chin up so I couldn’t look anywhere but him.

“Deliah,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you have no idea what that mouth just signed up for.”

A beat passed. The air was thick with tension.

His eyes searched mine like he was making sure I understood.

Then he kissed me like he’d waited years for it.

Like control had snapped, and now he was going to ruin me slowly.

Completely. I melted into it. Into him. He spun me gently, walking me back until I hit the bed.

“Take off your dress.”

I obeyed. It dropped to the floor. No underwear. Nothing left but want.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

I dropped. Instantly. Like my body already knew who it belonged to.

He circled me slowly, the heat of his gaze making my skin prickle.

His fingers brushed the top of my shoulder, then trailed down my spine—slow, deliberate, like he was mapping every inch of me before he claimed it.

He knelt behind me, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured. “That from nerves… or need?”

I couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

His hand slid between my legs. A single stroke. A wicked groan.

“Fuck. You’re soaked.”

I whimpered as his fingers teased, never giving me enough.

“You’ve been craving this, haven’t you, baby girl?”

I nodded, desperate.

He sucked his fingers into his mouth, eyes closing for a beat like he’d just tasted something divine.

“You need my cock to fill you up, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

He stood and undressed slowly—each movement unhurried, calculated, as if he had all the time in the world and knew exactly how undone I already was.

When he was naked, he paused—just for a second—watching me.

“You look beautiful like this,” he said, voice low and reverent. “Open. Obedient. Needing me.”

Then his tone dropped, darker now. “But I’m not going to be gentle with you.”

I shivered. He was hard. Heavy. And already angled like he knew exactly where he belonged.

“On the bed. On your back.”

I climbed on and spread my legs. Shame didn’t exist anymore.

He crawled over me, eyes locked on mine. “You’ve been torturing me, Deliah. Every bratty look. Every tease. And now…” He ran the head of his cock through my folds without entering. “Now this pussy is mine. Isn’t it, baby?”

“Yes. It’s yours.”

“That’s right.” He tapped his cock against my clit, and I jolted. “Say, ‘It’s yours, Daddy.’”

My pride didn’t stand a chance.

“It’s yours, Daddy.”

He smiled. Dark. Possessive. Then he lowered himself, his mouth replacing his cock, tongue slow and devastating. Two fingers slid inside and curled just right.

“Oh—fuck—please, Damion…”

“You don’t get to come yet,” he growled.

“I—I can’t hold it…”

“Yes, you can. You will.”

He edged me once. Twice. Three times. Pulling away every time I was close. My thighs shook. My moans turned to sobs.

“Please… I’m begging… Please let me come…”

“You haven’t earned it yet.”

His tongue flicked, fingers curling. His voice in my ear. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy for months,” he whispered, dragging his lips across my inner thigh. “And now it’s finally mine.”

“I’m yours,” I cried. “Please—I can’t take it.”

“You will take it,” he growled. “Because you’re a good little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes—yes, I’m your good girl, your hungry little whore—please let me come.”

He gripped my jaw. “You come when I say. Not a second before. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He pushed in. All the way. No warning. I screamed.

“Say it,” he groaned, thrusting into me like he was punishing the walls I’d built around myself. “Say whose pussy this is.”

“Yours!”

“Who owns you?”

“You do!”

“That’s it,” he growled. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

He flipped me. Bent me. Fucked me deeper. Harder. My body was boneless, my mind gone. His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back.

“I want you to remember this. Every time you think about disobeying me. Every time you think about teasing me—remember how good it feels to be used properly.”

“Yes, yes, I will.”

He slapped my ass, the sound cracking through the room.

“Now,” he whispered. “Break for me, baby girl.”

And I shattered.

My body exploded in waves, my scream muffled by the mattress.

He watched as I came undone, a guttural cry catching in my throat, my body jolting under him like he’d short-circuited something deep inside.

He followed seconds later, burying himself inside me with a final, brutal thrust. A deep groan tore from his throat as he came, his body collapsing onto mine in a heavy, possessive hold.

We lay there—sweat, breath, turbulence tangled together.

And I knew I’d never be the same again.

The room was quiet now. Still. Our bodies were a tangle of heat and sweat and ragged breath.

My skin felt electric—like I’d been rewired, every nerve still humming from the intensity of what just happened.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pulled out slowly, gently, and I winced at the emptiness.

Then he leaned over me and brushed the hair from my face like I was something delicate.

Breakable. Precious. He reached for a warm towel, cleaned me up carefully, quietly, his fingers soft against the bruises he’d just painted.

Then he climbed into bed and gathered me into his arms, holding me against his chest like I was the most important thing in the world.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, steady.

I nodded against his chest, my voice still caught somewhere between a whimper and a sigh. “Yeah… I think so.”

“You think so?” His fingers traced slow circles on my back. “Talk to me.”

I swallowed. My brain was fogged, but my heart was racing. “That was… intense.”

“Too much?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not too much. Just… different. In a good way.”

He shifted slightly so he could look down at me. His hand cupped my cheek, thumb stroking just beneath my eye. “You’re safe, Deliah. Always. You need to say anything—good, bad, in-between—you say it. There’s no judgement here.”

I searched his face. No smugness. No satisfaction. Just calm. Concern. Care.

“I’ve never had anyone check in with me after sex before,” I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Usually it’s zip up, fuck off, forget it happened.”

His jaw tensed slightly. “That’s not how this works. Not with me.”

“I know,” I whispered. “It felt different.”

He exhaled through his nose, nodding. “That’s what it’s supposed to be. Intense, yes. Raw, yes. But never harmful. Never hollow.”

I tucked my head under his chin, soaking in his warmth. “I didn’t expect to feel so… calm afterwards. Like I’ve just screamed all my demons out and now they’re finally quiet.”

“That’s why we do aftercare. Your body’s been through a lot. So has your mind. It’s not just about sex—it’s about what’s underneath it. The trust. The surrender. I take that seriously.”

His voice was like silk. Low, grounding. “And you were incredible,” he added, brushing his lips across my temple. “Obedient. Honest. Fiery as fuck, but still mine when it mattered.”

I smirked sleepily. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not. Just happy.”

We lay there for a few minutes, letting the silence wrap around us like another layer of warmth.

My heart was finally slowing. My body aching in all the best ways.

Then I broke the quiet. “So…” I said slowly, stretching my legs out under the covers.

“If I called you a smug bastard right now, would that undo all your praise?”

He chuckled, deep in his chest. “No. But it would earn you round two.”

My eyes fluttered open, a lazy grin spreading across my face. “Sounds good.”

He turned my face to his, lips brushing mine in the softest kiss of the night.

“Careful, baby girl,” he whispered. “Say one more bratty thing and I’ll show you just how good.”

And god help me—I hoped he would.

We spent the rest of the night tangled together, the storm of lust behind us, replaced now with something quieter.

Safer. Warmer. His arm was draped over my waist, fingers lazily tracing circles against my bare hip as I lay curled into his chest. My leg hooked over his, skin still humming from everything that came before.

We were quiet for a while—just breathing. Letting it all settle.

Then I laughed, sudden and light. “You’re fucking wild, by the way.”

His brow arched lazily. “Just figuring that out now?”

“No, I mean—throwing me over your shoulder like that? In front of everyone?”

He grinned. “You said you were ready.”

“Yeah, for sex. Not public kidnapping.”

He chuckled and pulled me closer, his voice teasing. “You didn’t complain.”

“No, but Cherry’s definitely going to be calling me in the morning once she sobers up.”

“I’ll answer,” he said smugly. “Tell her I did the world a favour.”

“Oh my god,” I groaned, burying my face in his chest. “You’re actually worse than I thought.”

“You love it.”

I paused, letting that settle. Then quietly, I said, “Yeah. I do.”

His hand stilled for a second, like he felt the weight behind those words.

I looked up at him, softer now. “I feel safe with you, Damion.”

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. Just looked down at me, his voice low and sure. “Good. That’s the whole point.”

I nodded, emotion catching somewhere between my chest and my throat. “You make me feel… wanted. Not just in the sexy way. In the real way.”

He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “Because you are. All of you. The brat, the drama, the softness underneath.”

“I don’t usually get soft,” I admitted. “Makes me feel weird. Exposed.”

“You can be both,” he said. “Strong and soft. You don’t have to pick.”

I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “I was thinking of teasing you into round two…”

His grin returned immediately. “Oh yeah?”

“But I’m ninety percent sure my legs wouldn’t survive it.”

He laughed—full and real. “Good. Means I did my job properly.”

“Smug bastard.”

“You want to be careful throwing that word around in this bed, baby girl.”

I bit my lip, looking at him with a tired but cheeky glint in my eyes. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both.”

I laughed again, then let my head fall against his shoulder with a happy sigh. “I’m just soaking it all up. You. This. Everything. Like I don’t want to miss a second.”

His tone softened. “You don’t have to rush. This isn’t a one-night thing.”

“You sure about that?”

“Dead sure.”

He kissed my forehead then—slow, deliberate, grounding. And something in me melted all over again. Eventually, he tucked the blanket around me, his arms still around my waist. He whispered, “Rest now, baby.”

I let my eyes flutter closed, a soft smile on my lips. I fell asleep wrecked. Safe. His.