Damian Cross : The Stranger I Paid To Ruin Me

POV: Elena

The next few days blurred together in a haze of tension and carefully maintained appearances. Damian Cross began inserting himself into our lives with effortless precision, always under the polished excuse of due diligence for the merger. He appeared at Richard’s office for unexpected meetings, joined us for business dinners that stretched late into the evening, and somehow made his presence feel both inevitable and suffocating. Every time I saw him, my body reacted against my will, remembering exactly how he had felt moving deep inside me that night.

Morning sickness had grown much worse. I woke up each day with waves of nausea that left me trembling over the toilet, one hand pressed protectively over my still-hidden belly while I prayed Richard would not notice. The pregnancy was only nine weeks along, yet it already demanded attention I could not afford to give. I hid the symptoms as best I could, chewing mints constantly and forcing myself to eat small bland meals when Richard was watching. He remained blissfully unaware, too excited about the potential deal with Cross Industries to pay close attention to me.

One afternoon Clara came over for coffee, her sharp eyes missing nothing as we sat in the sunlit living room. She studied me carefully while I sipped ginger tea to settle my stomach. “Elena, you look exhausted and you’re paler than usual. What’s going on? You’ve been distant ever since that gala and I know you well enough to see when you’re hiding something big.”

I wanted to tell her everything. The pregnancy, the terrifying truth about Damian, the way my body still ached for a man I should despise. But fear held my tongue. Confessing would make it real and I was not ready to face the consequences yet. “It’s just stress from Richard’s deal,” I said quietly, forcing a small smile. “Everything feels overwhelming right now, but I’m handling it.”

Clara did not look convinced, yet she let it go for the moment and simply squeezed my hand. Her concern only made the weight on my chest heavier.

Later that evening Richard came home beaming with satisfaction. “Damian has requested a private meeting at his penthouse tomorrow night to finalize some contract points. I told him you would go to his place, darling. You seem to have a good effect on him. Use it to our advantage.”

My heart dropped. “Richard, I don’t think that’s wise.”

He waved away my protest with irritation. “This deal is everything. Don’t disappoint me, Elena.”

The following night I arrived at Damian’s penthouse alone, my nerves stretched tight as the elevator carried me up to the top floor. The doors opened directly into his luxurious home and I stepped inside with my pulse racing. The space was sleek and masculine, all dark tones and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city.

Damian stood near the windows with a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching me with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to strip away every defense I had. “Elena,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Come in. We have a lot to discuss.”

We attempted to talk about the contract for several minutes, but the air between us grew thicker and more charged with every passing second. Finally Damian set his glass down and crossed the room toward me with deliberate strides. Before I could retreat, he backed me against his massive oak desk, caging me in with his powerful body.

“Why did you run that morning?” he demanded, his voice rough with frustration and something darker. “You came apart so beautifully in my arms all night, moaning and begging for more, and then you left money on the nightstand like I was nothing but a hired cock.”

His words sent heat rushing through me and I hated how my body responded so strongly. “It was supposed to be one night of revenge against my husband. I didn’t expect… you.”

Damian’s hand came up to cup my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “You didn’t expect to love every second of me fucking you, is that it?” He leaned in closer until our lips were barely apart. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it. Tell me you haven’t touched yourself remembering how deep I was inside you.”

I tried to deny it, but the lie died on my tongue as he captured my mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss. The moment our lips met, all restraint shattered. I kissed him back with equal hunger and anger, my hands fisting in his shirt as he lifted me onto the edge of the desk. His body pressed between my thighs and I gasped into his mouth when I felt how hard he already was.

Damian kissed me like he wanted to consume me entirely, his tongue stroking mine with possessive strokes while one hand slid up my thigh, pushing my dress higher. His fingers traced the edge of my lace panties and I whimpered when he pressed them against my core, feeling exactly how wet I had become.

“Still so responsive,” he growled against my lips, rubbing slow circles over my clit through the fabric. “Even now, while you’re angry with me, your body wants this. It wants me.”

I moaned softly as he slipped his fingers beneath the lace and stroked me directly, his touch skilled and relentless. He swallowed every sound I made with deep, hungry kisses while his fingers moved faster, sliding through my slick heat and circling my most sensitive spot until my hips rocked desperately against his hand.

“Damian…” I gasped, torn between fury at his arrogance and overwhelming desire.

He kissed down my neck and tugged the neckline of my dress lower, exposing my breasts. His mouth closed over one sensitive nipple, sucking and teasing while his fingers continued their torment between my thighs. Pleasure built rapidly inside me and I clung to his shoulders, my head falling back as waves of sensation crashed through my body.

“You’re mine to ruin, Elena,” he murmured hotly against my skin while pushing two fingers deep inside me. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

I came hard around his fingers, crying out as intense pleasure ripped through me. He kept stroking me through every shudder, kissing me deeply until I was trembling and breathless in his arms.

Yet he did not take me fully. He stepped back slightly, eyes dark with lust and satisfaction as he watched me try to compose myself. My dress was disheveled, my lips swollen, and my body still hummed with aftershocks.

I pushed him away and quickly fixed my clothes with shaking hands. “This cannot happen again,” I whispered, though we both knew it was a fragile lie.

I barely escaped the penthouse with my dignity intact and rushed into the waiting car. My phone buzzed moments later with a text from an unknown number. I opened it with trembling fingers and read the message:

“You’re hiding something, Elena. I always find the truth.”

I stared at the screen and pressed my hand against my belly where our child continued to grow in secret. The walls were closing in faster than I could have imagined, and the man at the center of my storm showed no intention of letting me go.