Chapter 170
Aria’s POV
“Yes.” His hand came up to cup my face, surprisingly gentle despite the ice still burning in his eyes. “I’m jealous as hell p>
“I don’t look back. Ever.” I held his gaze, willing him to see the truth in mine.
“From the moment I learned what Ethan really was, there’s been no space for him in my heart. I already blocked him. If you need me to do more p>
“I trust you.” He cut me off, and something in his expression softened at the edge of my anxiety. “But Aria, I’m a possessive bastard. The more I care about someone, the less rational I become p>
“You don’t have to keep saying things like that.” My whole face was on fire. “It’s embarrassing p>
Damian always looked so controlled, so devastatingly handsome, and then he’d say things that unraveled me completely.
“I mean every word.” His voice dropped, rough and low. “I’m afraid of losing control with you. Afraid that one day my possessiveness will be too much and you’ll walk away p>
That vulnerability—from him, of all people—made my chest ache.
“I won’t,” I said, no hesitation.
“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed even as his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. There was something haunted in his eyes, something old and buried.
“I’m sure. As long as you don’t lie to me or hurt me deliberately, I’ll never get tired of you.” I paused, forcing myself past the heat in my cheeks. “I care about you. A lot p>
“Aria p>
His expression shifted—the ice melting into liquid heat, raw and consuming.
And then he was moving, rolling over me, his body covering mine and pressing me into the mattress with a delicious, familiar weight.
He didn’t kiss me. Didn’t tease. Just reached down between us, positioned himself, and pushed inside.
I gasped — loud — my back arching off the bed as he sank into me inch by thick inch. I was still wet from before, still aching, and the stretch of him filling me again made my vision blur at the edges.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I forced my eyes open. His gaze was locked on my face, hungry and intent, watching every flicker of pleasure that crossed my expression as he seated himself to the hilt.
“Good girl.” The words were a dark rasp that made me clench around him involuntarily. His jaw tightened. “Fuck. Do that again p>
I did. Deliberately this time.
The sound he made — half groan, half snarl — was the most undone I’d ever heard him. His restraint snapped. He pulled out almost completely, then drove back in, hard enough to push me up the mattress.
After that, there was no slow build. No measured control. Just the relentless rhythm of him fucking into me, each stroke deeper than the last, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave fingerprints.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust, my nails raking down his back.
The headboard slammed against the wall in time with his movements, and I didn’t care who heard. I couldn’t care.
I couldn’t think about anything except the way he filled me, the way his body covered mine, the way he looked at me like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and never leave.
“You feel—” His voice broke. He dropped his forehead to mine, breath coming in ragged bursts. “Aria. You feel unreal p>
“So do you.” The words came out strangled. I was close already, the pressure coiling low and tight in my belly. “Damian, I’m p>
“I know.” His hand slid between our bodies, thumb finding that sensitive spot, pressing down in tight circles. “Come for me. Now. I want to feel it p>
I shattered.
The orgasm ripped through me like a live wire, arching my spine off the bed, ripping a broken scream from my throat.
My body clamped down around him, pulsing, milking, and through the haze I heard him curse— low and wrecked—before his rhythm turned punishing.
Three more thrusts, deep and brutal, and then he buried himself to the root with a guttural groan that I felt vibrate through my entire body.
Heat flooded me as he came, his hips jerking against mine, his face buried in the curve of my neck.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. We lay tangled together, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat. He was still inside me. Still hard. His heart hammered against my ribs, wild and fast.
Finally, he lifted his head. His gray eyes were softer now, the hunger banked into something quieter.
He brushed a strand of damp hair from my forehead and pressed a kiss there — lingering, almost reverent.
“I’m not letting you go,” he murmured against my skin. “You know that, don’t you p>
I smiled, boneless and utterly wrecked beneath him. “I know p>
Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets. My head rested on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow from a gallop to something steadier. His fingers traced lazy, absent patterns on my bare shoulder.
Every part of my body hummed with a deep, bone-tired satisfaction.
For the first time in years, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.