Chapter 35: You little greedy s***, You asked for this[R18]

The door clicked shut, sealing them in the quiet of the private fitting room.

In the three-way mirror, Lily saw infinite reflections of her own wide-eyed anticipation and Damon’s imposing stillness.

"Young Master Thorne," she began, the playful lilt back in her voice now that they were alone. She took a step toward him, the backless dress whispering against her thighs. "That was dramatic. Pulling me in here. What will people think?"

Damon didn’t smile. He looked at her the way a man looks at a tool he’s about to use. "They’ll think you finally got what you were asking for."

"I was just shopping," she said innocently, batting her lashes.

"You weren’t shopping." His voice was low. He took a single step forward, closing the distance she’d tried to create.

"You were performing. Every swish of your hips, every look over your shoulder, every time you held up some tiny piece of silk and asked ’what about this?’ with that fucking smirk on your face. You were begging. You just didn’t have the guts to say the words."

Her breath hitched. The directness was a slap, but it thrilled her. This was the reaction she’d been digging for. "Maybe I was. So what? You could’ve said no."

"I don’t say no to things I want," he said simply.

His hand came up, not to caress, but to grip the nape of her neck. His fingers were warm and firm, holding her in place. "And you made it very clear you wanted to be wanted."

Before she could retort, his other hand moved to the high neck of her dress. He found the keyhole detail, the delicate stitching. With a sharp, deliberate twist, he ripped it. The sound of tearing velvet was obscenely loud – *rrrrip*.

"Hey!" She gasped, looking down at the ruined fabric falling from her shoulders. "That cost more than—"

"Nothing in this room costs me anything," he interrupted, his eyes dropping to the ruined fabric. "If something here matters, I can replace it. So stop pretending you don’t know what you’re doing."

His thumb stroked her jawline, then pressed against her lower lip. "So let’s see if your mouth is as greedy as your eyes."

The command was implicit. A shiver ran through her, part fear, part electric excitement. She sank to her knees on the plush carpet, the position feeling both submissive and powerfully intimate. She looked up at him through her lashes. "You’re not very romantic, are you?"

"Romance is for women you take on dates," He said, working the button and zip of his trousers. "This isn’t a date. This is a lesson."

When he freed himself, Lily felt a genuine jolt of apprehension. He was thick, fully erect, the reality of him more intimidating than any fantasy she’d teased herself with. She reached a hand out, but he caught her wrist.

"No hands. Just that pretty, talking mouth."

He guided himself to her lips. She opened them, taking the head of his cock inside. The taste was clean, salty, intense. She swirled her tongue experimentally, a flick of provocation.

It was the wrong move.

His hand fisted in her hair, not painfully, but with absolute authority. "None of that," he growled. "No games. You wanted to be used? Then be used."

He pushed forward, deeper than she was ready for. Her eyes watered instantly as he breached the back of her throat. She gagged, a wet, choked *glrk* sound escaping her. He held there, letting her struggle, letting her feel the stretch.

"Suck," he commanded, his voice rough.

She obeyed, hollowing her cheeks as he began to move.

He set a relentless, rhythmic pace, his hips pumping into the warm, wet clutch of her mouth.

It wasn’t pleasurable for her; it was overwhelming. The head of his cock bumped her soft palate with every thrust, making her eyes sting.

Spit dripped messily down her chin and onto her chest. The sounds were vulgar – wet, guttural sucks and her own strained gulps for air.

"That’s it," he muttered, looking down at her with approving eyes. "Take it. You wanted to be a greedy little slut, so take it like one."

The word, paired with the degrading, wonderful reality of the act, sent a pulse of heat straight to her core. She moaned around him, the vibration drawing a sharp hiss from between his teeth.

He fucked her face with single-minded intensity, his breathing growing heavier. His grip on her hair tightened, guiding her movements, controlling the depth.

"Your sister," he grunted, driving deep. "Claire. She cries. She gets shy. But you... you just open up and take it, don’t you? Like you were made for it."

The mention of Claire, of the comparison, should have shamed her.

Instead, it lit a competitive fire in her gut. She sucked harder, taking him deeper, letting the tears fall freely. She *would* be better. She would take more.

Just as her jaw began to ache with a deep, burning fatigue, he pulled out abruptly. A strand of saliva connected her swollen lips to his glistening tip before snapping. She knelt there, panting, her lips feeling bruised and used, her face a mess of spit and tears.

He looked down at her. "Stand up."

She did, her legs trembling slightly.

"Turn around," he said, his voice thick with arousal but chillingly calm. "Bend over the stool. Hook your arms over the back. I want to see that shameless ass in the air."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was it.

The point of no return she’d been racing toward all afternoon. She saw the velvet-cushioned fitting stool in the center of the room.

She turned, her back to him, and with hands that only shook a little, she pushed the tattered remains of her dress down over her hips until it pooled at her feet.

The cool air kissed her skin. She bent forward, leaning over the stool, and hooked her elbows over the rounded top, gripping the far side. The position arched her back, presenting herself completely, vulnerable and exposed.

She heard him spit into his palm.

She felt the broad, slick head of his cock press against her tight, virgin entrance. A tremor of fear shot through her. This was real. This was now.

Damon leaned over her, his chest not yet touching her back, his mouth close to her ear. His voice was a dark promise.

"You asked for this, you greedy little slut," he whispered. "Now you’re going to get it."