*Isabella's POV*
He changed positions, sitting up and pulling me with him until I was straddling his lap, my breasts pressed against his chest. He was still inside me, deep and hard, his thrusts pounding into my wet pussy. His arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tight, as I leaned my head back. His hands moved up to my breasts, his fingers rolling and pinching my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my clit. I was a squirming, whimpering mess, my head thrown back , my hands gripping his back, my nails digging into his skin.
"You feel so fucking good," he growled, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated through my entire body. "Mine."
"Yes," I moaned, my voice a broken, desperate sound.
He shifted again, laying me down on my stomach and entering me from behind. This new angle was devastating, hitting my G-spot with every deep, powerful thrust. He started to move faster, his hips pistoling against mine, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me back to meet his every thrust. The sound of our bodies slapping together, his low, husky grunts, and my own shameless moans filled the room.
"You like that, baby?" he growled, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "You like it when I fuck you hard?"
"Yes," I moaned, my voice a broken, desperate sound. "Don't stop."
He didn't. He just went faster, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. He reached around, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in tight, demanding circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. The pleasure was a tidal wave, and I was quickly losing myself in it.
"Cum for me, Isabella," he commanded, his voice a low, guttural sound that was my final undoing.
An orgasm, more violent and shattering than any before, ripped through me. A fucking wave of pleasure that made my vision go white and my body convulse. I cried out his name and he groaned mine, his own release triggered by mine, his body tensing as he pulsed inside me.
We stayed there for a moment, a tangled, sweaty mess on his bed, the only sounds our ragged breaths and the faint hum of the city outside. He pulled out, carefully disposing of the condom in a nearby bin. He pulled me into his arms, my back against his chest, his leg thrown over mine.
We were panting heavily afterwards, our bodies a tangled mess in the black sheets . The silence stretched on, but it wasn't uncomfortable or heavy. It was a warm, sated quiet, a comfortable hum that settled deep in my bones. After a few minutes, our breathing evened out, and we broke into conversation.
"I guess I knew that I had feelings for you when I was in Cuba," he responded, his voice a low, quiet rumble that vibrated through my chest.
My mind was racing, immediately jumping back to that time. The business emergency that had taken him away, giving me and Jacob all that time to get close, to fall into our own complicated little world.
"Everything I did, every move I made... I wanted to talk to you about it. Get your opinion. I also wanted to show you the island." He paused, and I could feel his heart beat a little faster against my back. "I remember standing on that balcony, looking out at the ocean, and all I could think about was how much I wished you were there to see it with me."
He took a deep breath, like the next part was harder to admit. "It didn't help that I felt what Jacob was feeling. You two becoming close... on top of me missing you, I felt jealous. I wondered why I didn't just grow a pair of balls to open up to you like he did. To talk to you."
I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "You just started, Damien," I said softly. "And I know it's hard, but it's better late than never. Plus," I added with a small, wry smile, "I wasn't that approachable either. It was easier with Jacob. He stirred... emotions in me. But with you," I paused, thinking about the right words, "I had you on a fucking pedestal for too long. I couldn't just..."
I trailed off, my mind trying to put words together. These twins were too different in too many ways. Jacob, the tattooed-up playboy who turned out to be a hopeless romantic who wore his heart on his sleeve. Whereas Damien... my cold, intimidating boss, the man who ruled with an iron fist, turned out to be a real softie who just didn't know how to open up, who was just as scared as I was. It was kinda fucking with my head.
"Tell me about your mother," I said, my voice a soft, hesitant thing in a heavy, quiet that had fallen between us. It was a gamble, another brick I was tossing at his fortress, but I had a feeling he might just open a window this time.
He stilled beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his breathing hitching for just a second. He didn't look at me, just kept his gaze fixed on a shadow dancing on the far wall. "What do you want to know?" he asked, his voice low, a cautious rumble.
"Everything," I whispered, turning onto my side to face him, my hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over his heart, "When you mentioned her before... I sensed she meant a lot to you," I replied, my fingers tracing patterns on his chest . "What was she like?"
"Of course she meant a lot," he said, his voice a low, distant rumble, like he was looking back into a different lifetime. "She was... perfect. Beautiful, not just on the outside, but inside, too. She was the calm centre of our fucking chaotic world. My father, Jacob... they were storms. She was the eye of the hurricane."
He paused, a sad, small smile on his lips. "You know when you said you felt like you were born grown up? I get that. I had to be the big brother, the golden boy. I always had to have the answers, to be in control. My father... he wasn't an easy man. And Jacob..." He sighed, a deep, weary sound. "Jacob was a handful. Always in some kind of trouble, always pushing boundaries. Mishaps, fights, you name it. My mother just... handled it. She always knew what to say, how to calm my father down, how to talk some sense into Jacob without crushing his spirit. She was calm and loving, but also firm as fucking steel when she had to be."
"And then there was me," he said, his voice dropping even lower. "The golden boy. The one who was good at school, the one who followed all the rules. The one who never gave them any trouble. I think... I think I did it for her. To make her life a little easier. To be one less thing she had to worry about but she still did." He looked away, his jaw tight. "I always did everything by the book. The perfect son. And now she's gone... and I guess now she's the real angel, watching over us.
A weight I hadn't realised he was carrying seemed to lift from his shoulders with his confession. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "That sounds like a lot of pressure for a little boy," I said, my voice thick with emotion.
He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arm tighter around me, pulling me flush against his side. He buried his face in my hair, and in the quiet darkness of his room, I felt him finally, truly relax. This was the Damien no one else saw. The man behind the CEO, the man behind the dominant lover. And I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that I was falling for him. Hard.