Chapter 63
“You have a good friend.”
Damian took Shirley’s hand, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.
“What were you doing in here?”
“Just… curious.”
For some reason, she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Got bored waiting for me? I should’ve come sooner. Everyone kept dragging the new groom around…”
“I-I was fine. Looking around was… fun.”
“Find anything interesting?”
“Huh?”
“It’s just clothes though… Was there something?” He craned his neck toward the stack of boxes where she’d been sitting moments ago.
“In that box?”
As Damian moved to step toward them, Shirley lunged forward, grabbing his sleeve.
“N-No! There’s nothing there!” She shook her head frantically.
“……Shirley?”
“It’s just—I’ve never seen your clothes like this before, so I was curious, that’s all!”
“Really?”
Damian raised an eyebrow, and Shirley nodded vigorously.
“I’m cold, Damian.”
She quickly buried herself in his arms.
“Tsk.”
He chuckled, wrapping her tightly in his embrace—but not before casting one last, lingering glance at the boxes behind them.
Damian’s hands slid beneath Shirley’s thin nightgown, his fingers tracing up her arms before slipping under her knees to lift her effortlessly.
As he carried her from the dressing room back to the bedroom, Shirley remained silent in his arms, her heart pounding. For some reason, when she dared to glance up at Damian’s face, it sent a shiver down her spine—there was something unnerving in his expression.
“What is it, Shirley?”
Noticing her gaze, he looked down, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips.
“N-Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Nervous?” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Well… it is our wedding night.”
“I guess so…”
She curled slightly into herself, but Damian only tightened his hold.
“Relax. It’s just us.”
He bent his head, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.
“Mmm…!”
Shirley parted her lips instinctively, her breath hitching as his tongue slid against hers. His hands, already roaming beneath her nightgown, found her b*****s, teasing and kneading before impatiently pushing the fabric aside.
Too impatient to even make it to the bed, Damian laid her down on the nearest sofa, his movements urgent, leaving no room for hesitation—no space for questions.
“Ah—Ahh!”
The harder he thrust into her from behind, the rougher Shirley’s moans became, her fingers clawing at the cushions as he held her hips in a bruising grip.
Helpless beneath him, she surrendered completely—body, breath, and every trembling gasp—to the man who had always owned her, in every way possible.
Shirley’s body rocked helplessly under the force of Damian’s thrusts, her willpower long since shattered—now she was held up solely by his strength.
Damian moved like a man possessed, having bent her over the sofa, gripping her hips as he took her from behind with animalistic intensity. It was too rough for a wedding night—too desperate, too hungry.
“Shirley… Shirley…”
Even as he used her like this, the way he moaned her name sounded unbearably sweet. Blinking through blurred vision, Shirley managed to turn her head just enough to meet his gaze.
In one swift motion, Damian flipped her onto her back, spreading her thighs wide. The moment their eyes locked, a wicked grin curled his lips before he pushed back inside, deeper than before.
“Hah—Ah…!”
The sudden fullness made her squirm, her hips instinctively trying to retreat—but his hands clamped down on her waist, yanking her flush against him. All she could do was cling to his shoulders and whimper.
“Mmm… ngh…!”
Each slow, deliberate roll of his hips dragged another broken moan from her lips. When she tried to turn her face away, Damian caught her chin, kissing her so deeply her lungs burned for air.
And all the while, his thrusts grew harder, faster, until the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
Tears streaked Shirley’s cheeks as she took everything he gave—his tongue in her mouth, his c**k driving into her, over and over. Without realizing it, her legs had locked around his waist, heels digging into his back in a rhythm that matched his movements.
As if begging for more.
Damian noticed. His grin turned feral.
“When did you learn to do that, Shirley?”
“Ngh… ah…!”
Shirley’s breath came in ragged gasps between their feverish kisses. The slick, obscene sound of their joining filled the air as Damian thrust deeper, wrenching another loud cry from her throat.
“Taking me so well… so perfect, Shirley.”
His gaze burned shamelessly where their bodies connected. Feeling his stare, Shirley’s face flushed crimson.
“D-Don’t look…!”
Her half-hearted attempt to cover herself was thwarted as he caught her wrist.
Suck. Suck.
One by one, her delicate fingers were drawn into his mouth, each emerging reddened and glistening.
Yet his eyes never left hers—dark with a hunger that threatened to devour her whole.
“Should we continue here… or…”
His gaze flicked to the bed just beyond the sofa.
Shirley glanced at the ruined upholstery beneath them, already soaked beyond salvation. If he planned to keep her like this all night—
“T-The bed…”
The words barely escaped before Damian kissed her cheek with an audible mwah, then lifted her effortlessly—still impaled on him.
“Eek!”
The sudden shift drove him even deeper, wrenching a broken moan from her lips.
“Ah—D-Damian… ahh…!”
“What?”
He grinned, deliberately taking a step that made her clench around him.
“You said the bed.”
He remained infuriatingly nonchalant. Between peppering kisses along her flushed cheeks and swollen lips, he hummed as if waiting for her to continue—as if she could form coherent words like this.
“Ah—ahh…!”
Shirley shuddered around him, her arms tightening around his neck as he deliberately loosened his hold, forcing her to cling to him. The cruel tease was obvious, but she had no breath to protest—not when every step sent him driving deeper, stretching her in ways that stole her voice.
“N-No, don’t—ahh!”
Each movement—each deliberate withdrawal and sharp upward thrust—had her writhing, her legs locking around his waist as if she could somehow control the devastating friction.
“P-Please, Damian—please—!”
“What should I do, hm?”
Another step. Another brutal snap of his hips that punched a scream from her throat.
“S-Stop—stop that—!”
His grin widened at her whimper. “Stop what?”
The mock innocence in his voice made her want to strangle him—if only she weren’t too busy being wrecked by his every movement.
Begging wasn’t working. She needed a different tactic.
With a shaky breath, Shirley tilted her head up, pressing desperate kisses along his jaw.
Mwah. Mwah.
Clumsy, sweet, deliberately coaxing.
“Mmm, Damian… please? Please…”
Her lips found his ear, her teeth grazing the lobe before she whispered the magic words:
“Take me to bed… and ruin me properly.”
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