But he didn’t move. He didn’t reach for me. He only adjusted himself, his breathing steadying, his voice cold.

Sofia’s POV

I only responded with a gasp.

My knees felt weak as I lowered myself in front of him. My hands shook when I reached for his belt, and the sound of the buckle coming undone made my heart pound even faster. I told myself it was just money, just a deal. But the truth was harder to face.

The taste of him—familiar, salty—slid over my tongue as I closed my lips around him. I kissed him slowly first, almost reverently, before letting my mouth open wider, swallowing inch by inch, like I was starving and he was the only thing that could fill me.

Slowly, his hand slid into my hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail, and my heart kicked against my ribs. With a sharp tug, he held me still, his eyes locking onto mine. The connection made my whole body throb. I tried to look away, to hide, but he wouldn’t let me.

The words cut deeper than any blade. My chest caved, my heart sinking into a pit of emptiness. For a second, I almost broke, almost fell to my knees again—not from lust, but from the ache of wanting what I couldn’t have. But I bit it back. I nodded, hiding the pain inside me, refusing to let him see my pain.

His thrusts grew harder, his grip tighter, and I moaned around him, the sound vibrating through my throat. My eyes stayed locked with his, and the raw hunger there only made me wetter, my whole body screaming for more.

“Yes,” he said without a pause, his eyes locked on me like a hunter who had already caught his prey.

Then he pushed deeper, his hips snapping forward, fucking my mouth in a way that made me choke and moan all at once. Tears pricked my eyes, but the heat between my legs only grew worse, my underwear damp and clinging to me. Every thrust sent a fresh wave of wetness spilling out of me, my body betraying me completely.

“Don’t you dare close those pretty eyes,” Damien growled, his voice rough, dark. “I want to see every second of you taking me like you used to.”

Damien’s grip in my hair tightened, holding my head in place as he drove into my mouth harder, deeper. Each thrust made my throat stretch around him, my body trembling with the effort to keep up. My eyes watered, saliva running down my chin, but instead of stopping him, the fire in my belly only burned hotter. I was dying for him to stop torturing me like this and finally take me—bend me over, fill me, fuck me until I couldn’t think.

We were related, blood bound, and worse—our families were enemies. This was wrong in more ways than I could count, and yet I kept letting myself have these feelings.

What am I doing? The question echoed over and over in my head. My body still throbbed with desire for him, but my heart… my heart was breaking.

“Do you want it here?” I asked, my voice rough.

I wanted to turn, to bend over, to beg him to take me the way he used to—to feel his cock inside me again—but I couldn’t. This wasn’t supposed to be that.

His breath hitched, low and sharp, and the sound ignited something reckless in me. My tongue traced him, teasing, circling, before I sucked harder, like it was a lollipop I couldn’t put down. Heat coiled deep in my core, my body betraying me with every wet sound I made around him.

Because as I knelt there, every memory came flooding back: the way it used to be, the way I used to love sucking him. And the ache inside me reminded me I hadn’t been touched in years. Damien had been the last. And now, here I was again, back where it all began.

With shaky legs, I pushed myself up. My lips were swollen, my throat raw, my pussy still wet and throbbing with need he had no intention of easing. Without another word, I walked out of the room.

“Yes,” Damien said flatly, “You can leave.”

When he finally pulled back, breathing rough, I wiped my lips and turned, my chest heaving. The ache between my legs was unbearable, a hollow, desperate need clawing at me. I wanted him so badly it hurt, but my pride wouldn’t let me break.

I hated myself for it—for wanting him, for missing him. But my body betrayed me. Heat curled low in my belly, spreading fast, making me wet even as I told myself this was nothing, just a job, just a trade.

I told myself I was only doing this for the money. I needed it badly. The investigator I hired charged a lot, and most of my savings were already gone. Getting this money every month would help me so much. And it wasn’t sex. It was only a blowjob. All I had to do was close my eyes, get it over with, and then it would be done.

With trembling hands and a broken heart, I reached out through the bond, opening the mind link. “Olivia…”

By the time I reached my room, my legs felt numb, my chest too tight to hold it all in. I shut the door behind me, sat down on the edge of the bed, and the first tear slipped free, sliding hot down my cheek.

“Fuck, Sofia,” he groaned, his pace rougher now, his voice dripping with the same filthy words that used to undo me. “Your mouth was made for me. Look at you—on your knees, drooling all over my cock. You missed this, didn’t you? You missed me.”

Inside my head, the words screamed louder than anything else. Please… ask to fuck me. Please, Damien, turn me around and take me. Don’t make me be the one to say it. My pride burned, my throat locked, and all I could do was beg silently.

But before I could beg, before I could turn around and give myself away completely, Damien groaned loud and sharp. His hips jerked hard against my lips as he spilled inside me, hot and thick, flooding my mouth. I swallowed on instinct, choking slightly, my body shuddering at the taste of him.

Swallowing hard, I unzipped him, and his cock spilled out. My throat went dry as I came face-to-face with his already hardened cock; it felt like he was bigger than I remembered. My lips hovered just above him, trembling, betraying every denial I whispered in my head. I told myself again—this wasn’t desire, this was just money. But the moment my mouth touched the tip of his cock, everything inside me shattered.

I sighed, closing my eyes in shame, wondering who I could talk to. Who could I tell without being judged, without being mocked? Then, through the haze of guilt and shame, one name came to me—Olivia, my sister. She had been in the same situation once. She would understand.

“Are we done?” I asked, my voice hoarse, raw. I didn’t look at him when I said it. “Can I leave now?”