Chapter 2: The Morning After

Mia’s POV My body ached in the most delicious, sinful way when I woke up. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the rumpled silk sheets in gold. I was naked, thighs sticky with dried c*m, my p***y still tender and throbbing from the way Damien had claimed me again and again last night. I thought I married a cold-hearted monster… but after last night, I wasn’t sure what terrified me more — him, or how much I craved him. I tried to slip out of bed, but a strong arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me back against a hard, muscular chest. Damien’s deep voice rumbled against my ear, sending fresh heat pooling between my legs. “Where do you think you’re going, wife?” His morning erection pressed thick and insistent against my ass. My breath hitched. Even after everything he’d done to me, my body betrayed me instantly — wetness slicking my thighs. “Damien… I need to shower,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming his name. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through me. One large hand slid down my stomach and cupped my sore p***y possessively. Two thick fingers pushed inside without warning, stirring the remnants of his c*m from last night. “You’ll shower when I say so,” he growled, pumping slowly. The obscene, wet sounds filled the quiet suite. “First, you’re going to take another load like a good little breeding wife.” I moaned helplessly as he curled his fingers against that perfect spot. My hips rocked back against his hand despite the soreness. “Please… I’m so sensitive—” “Good.” He bit my earlobe. “I want you dripping and desperate for me all day.” He flipped me onto my back and settled between my spread thighs. His dark eyes devoured my body — marked with hickeys, fingerprints, and traces of his ownership. He rubbed the fat head of his c**k up and down my soaked slit. “Look at you… already soaked for me again. This greedy cunt knows exactly who owns it.” In one powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt. I cried out, back arching off the bed. He was so big, stretching me to my limit even after last night. “f**k, Mia,” he groaned, starting a deep, punishing rhythm. “You feel even better in the morning. So warm. So wet. So f*****g mine.” The bed creaked beneath us as his thrusts grew harder. He captured my mouth in a possessive kiss, tongue claiming me while his hips snapped forward, balls slapping wetly against me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, nails digging into his back. “Damien… slower—” “No.” He snarled against my lips. “I’m going to ruin this p***y every morning from now on.” He pulled out suddenly, flipped me onto all fours, and slammed back in from behind. The new angle was devastating. I screamed into the pillow as he railed me mercilessly, one hand fisting my hair, the other spanking my ass until it burned red. “Tell me who this womb belongs to,” he demanded. “You! It belongs to you, Damien!” “That’s right.” His fingers found my swollen c**t, rubbing fast circles. “I’m going to pump you full until you’re pregnant. Until the whole world knows you’re carrying my heir.” The filthy promise sent me spiraling. I came hard, squirting around his thick c**k, walls clenching as pleasure tore through me. Damien roared and buried himself deep, flooding my womb with pulse after pulse of hot c*m until it overflowed and ran down my thighs. He stayed inside me, grinding slowly, kissing my spine almost tenderly. “You’re doing so well, Mia. Taking my c**k like you were made for it.” My heart fluttered at the rare praise — then his phone rang. He pulled out with a wet sound, c*m gushing from me. I whimpered at the sudden emptiness as he answered, voice instantly cold and commanding. “What?” His expression darkened. He glanced at me, jaw tight. “Handle it,” he snapped and hung up. “What’s wrong?” I asked, pulling the sheet over myself. “Business. A rival is testing me.” He dressed quickly. “Stay in the penthouse today. Don’t leave without my permission.” I bristled. “I’m not your prisoner, Damien.” He stalked back, gripped my chin, and kissed me hard — dominating and possessive. “You’re my wife. For the next year, you’re whatever I say you are. Right now? You’re my personal c*m slut. Keep that p***y wet and ready for me.” The door slammed behind him. I collapsed onto the bed, mind reeling. How could I already be addicted to a man who treated me like property? After showering, my phone buzzed with an unknown message: Unknown: You think marrying Damien Voss will save your father? Cute. The debt isn’t forgiven. Watch your back, new Mrs. Voss. My blood ran cold. Before I could process it, the door burst open. Damien stormed back in, eyes blazing. “Change of plans,” he growled, yanking me against him. “You’re coming to the office with me. And tonight… I’m going to f**k you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” His hand slipped under my robe, fingers finding my still-dripping p***y as he kissed me hungrily. But even as heat flared again, the anonymous threat lingered. Who was coming after us? And how dangerous was the world I’d married into?