*Isabella's POV*
In the car ride home, we remained glued to each other in the plush leather backseat. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. My head was on his chest, the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart a calming beat against my ear. His arm was wrapped tight around my shoulders, holding me close. I could smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne, mixed with the smell of the night air and the faint, electric tang of his sweat.
Now that I had seen the beauty of the soul of Damien Lancaster, I didn't want to wake up from this dream. Because that's what it feels like. It felt like a dream. The way he smiled, the way he sang—off-key, but with so much fucking feeling—the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in a stadium of thousands... it was all so perfect it felt unreal.
The car pulled up to the house, the automatic lights illuminating the grand facade. But the feeling didn't shatter. We were still in our own little bubble, our own private dream, and I had a sinking, wonderful feeling that it was a dream I might never have to wake up from.
"Lets head inside," I said, my voice a little dreamy, my body still buzzing from his whispered promises. The quiet of the grand hallway felt different now, not empty, but full of a new, unspoken understanding.
I nodded towards the stairs, towards my room, towards our usual routine. "Let's go upstairs."
He stopped me, his hand gently closing around my wrist. "No," he said, his voice a low, soft rumble that vibrated through me.
"No? What the fuck does that mean, no?" I asked, a flicker of confusion cutting through my hazy bliss.
"Not there," he said, his eyes holding a new, soft light. "My bedroom."
My breath hitched. His bedroom. The one place in this giant fucking house he'd always kept to himself, a place I'd never even seen. This was more than just a place to sleep. This was an invitation. A key to a part of him he'd never, ever shown anyone.
With that, he laced his fingers through mine, a simple, intimate gesture that felt more profound than any kiss. He led me up the grand staircase, past the door to my room, down a long hallway I'd only ever glanced down. He stopped in front of a large, dark wood door, indistinguishable from all the others, yet I knew this was it. This was the heart of his fortress.
He pushed it open, pulling me inside gently. My eyes widened, taking it all in. It was... his. His room was dark, his floors and walls a mix of black and gold, screaming sophistication, opulence, and royalty. It was so fucking him. Dark, masculine colours, clean lines, not a single thing out of place. A huge bed with a simple, dark grey duvet. A bookshelf overflowing with books. A large, abstract painting over the fireplace. It was the room of a complex, intelligent man, not a cold, unfeeling CEO. It was the room of the man who sang off-key at a Coldplay concert.
As I entered his room behind him, he spun me around and claimed my lips in his. The kiss was nothing short of amazing, slow and gentle yet possessive and dominating all at once. My heart was pounding in my chest like it was going to explode, a frantic, wild beat against my ribs.
He peeled of my clothes piece by piece, taking his time to enjoy the view, and I did the same, but with a slight sense of urgency, a desperate need to feel all of him against me. Left only in my bra and panties, he pushed me down gently onto the bed, the soft black sheets enveloping my body like a warm, dark cloud. He crawled over me and just hovered. He had stopped kissing me and was now just watching me, silent with the same reverent expression he had back in the cabin at the Grand Canyon, when he made love to me then dismissed me.
My heart screamed a silent prayer. Don't you dismiss me. Not again. Not now.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice a raw, guttural whisper that was more intimate than any touch. "You mean everything to me, Isabella. Everything."
The words were a key, unlocking a cage I hadn't even realised I was in. He followed them with a soft, lingering kiss on my neck, then another on my cheek. These weren't kisses of passion; they were kisses of possession, of a promise. He wasn't going to dismiss me. He was finally letting me in.
He kissed me again, a slow, deep, soul-shattering kiss that was a world away from all the others. It wasn't a claim or a punishment. It was a confession. A raw, unfiltered promise that vibrated through my entire being. His hands roamed up my back his touch setting my skin on fire.
He reached behind me, his fingers fumbling slightly with the clasp of my bra before it came free. He slid the straps down my arms, his gaze burning into me. Last came my panties, and I lay there, completely bare, completely exposed under his intense, unwavering stare.
He leaned over me once, his body a warm, heavy weight, and kissed me again, a slow, exploring kiss that tasted of promise and something else, something deeper. He reached over to his bedside table, pulling open the top drawer. The sound of it sliding open was loud in the quiet room. He pulled out a small, foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth. He rolled the condom onto his hard dick with a practiced ease, his eyes never once leaving mine. Fuck.
He positioned himself at my pussy, and then he pushed inside me. It was slow, so fucking slow, a deep, deliberate stroke that filled me completely, stealing my breath. He didn't move for a moment, just stayed there, buried to the hilt, his eyes locked on mine. It was intimate, it was intense, it was... everything.
He started to move, his hips setting a slow, deep rhythm that was designed to drive me insane. Each thrust was a deliberate, possessive stroke that hit my cervix, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my clit. My hands roamed up his back, my nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life. I could feel the tension coiling in my stomach, a tight, hot ball of pleasure that was already threatening to explode.
"You can go rough if you want," I whispered, my voice a breathy moan. I wanted to give him permission, to show him I trusted him, all of him.
He groaned, a low, husky sound that vibrated through my entire body. He didn't say anything, just claimed my lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His hands moved to my breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing over my nipples before he took one into his mouth, sucking hard. The dual sensations of his deep thrusts and his hot mouth on my breast were almost too much.