ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE SINGLE DAD (Gabrielle and Damon) novel Chapter 8

GABRIELLE’S POV

My body bounced twice on the bed when Damon dropped me onto it.

I stared up at him, speechless, as he took off his jacket and began undoing his cuffs, his eyes never leaving mine.

We were never apart for long without intimacy, but it had been a while since I had seen that wild look in his eyes.

I missed it.

Damon pulled his shirt over his head and climbed onto the bed.

One hand closed around my thigh while the other supported his weight as he moved over me.

I placed my hand against his chest, stopping him from leaning down.

“Take me to the private room,” I said.

After we moved, he had a private room made for us—similar to the one in his penthouse—hidden behind the walk-in closet.

He paused, studying my expression. “You haven’t asked for that in a while. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I answered.

Damon didn’t hesitate.

He got off the bed and lifted me over his shoulders before stepping into the closet.

He pressed the code into the lock and a few minutes later, a door that didn’t look like it had been there slid open.

Damon walked into the room.

A dim red light immediately filled the space.

He finally dropped me to my feet.

I turned around, and my eyes fell on chains and ropes attached to the bed in a corner of the room.

The place smelled like him.

In the middle of the room, there was an X-shaped cross, similar to the one I’d seen in the masquerade.

“I got that recently,” he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I thought you might want to try it.”

My throat ran dry.

“Damon…”

“Take off all your clothes,” he cut me off, moving back a few paces. “Now.”

I took off my clothes immediately, my eyes still on the cross.

When I was completely naked, he stepped closer again and wrapped his arms around me.

“Tell me, wife,” he whispered. “Would you like to try it?”

I was a little bit intimidated by the St. Andrew’s cross, but I was more turned on by it.

I turned to face him, but he stopped me, his hand tightening around my waist, and keeping me from looking at him.

His hand fisted in my hair before he yanked my head to the side.

It was rough, but I didn’t mind.

It only made me want him more.

“Answer the question, Gabrielle,” he said.

His free hand moved to one of my breasts and he squeezed it from behind.

A moan slipped out of me. “Fuck, yes.”

Damon’s grip tightened in my hair, and a strangled sound escaped my throat. “That’s my girl.”

The praise sent warmth rushing through me.

His hand began massaging my breast gently. “But you’ve been a brat lately. And brats don’t always get what they want.”

I let my head fall back against his chest, my eyes closing as the sensation settled in. “No. Please.”

He moved his hand down my body slowly. “I have been way too soft with you, haven’t I? I let you get away with everything.”

I couldn’t respond.

I was too focused on his breath on my skin, his voice close to my ears, and his hand reaching even lower to my core.

He was going to punish me, and god, I would enjoy every second of the torture.

“Yes, you have,” I answered, trying to push him even further. “I like disobeying you. I like what it does to you.”

His hand froze.

But I didn’t stop because I could clearly see he was holding back. “So what, husband? What are you going to do about that?”

Suddenly, I was spun around.

My eyes flew open and met his already dark ones.

“Behave,” he gritted out.

He looked so mad, the furrow of brows and his clenched jaw making my stomach flip.

I swallowed, my heart thumping heavily in my chest as I rolled my eyes at him. “Or what?”

Before I could process what was happening, he had me in his arms, carrying me somewhere I couldn’t see.

Until my back pressed against something padded.

He set me down, and I glanced back—just enough to realize it was the X-shaped cross.

A lump formed in my throat. “Damon—”

“Don’t run now,” he said, a smirk forming on his lips. “You had a lot to say seconds ago.”

Anticipation and a little fear twisted in my stomach. “I—”

Damon reached for my wrist, stretched it above my head, and attached a cuff to it. “You still remember your safe word, wife?”

My wrist was cuffed so high that I had to stand on my toes to keep my balance.

I parted my lips to speak, but only air came out even though I remembered my safe word.

Damon's smirk deepened as he reached for my other wrist and cuffed it above my head.

Now I was high enough off the ground that I couldn’t balance on my toes anymore, my legs suspended in the air.

Even like that, Damon still looked down at me. “Or would you prefer a new one?”

Every time I thought I knew how far he’d go, he proved me wrong.

And fuck, it hurt—like someone was trying to rip my nipples off.

But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying that.

Not that it mattered.

My face gave everything away.

“That must hurt, right?” he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back the cry clawing its way out of my throat.

Slowly, the sharp pain dulled, melting into a deep, throbbing ache that sent heat pooling low in my stomach.

Damon slid his hands down the side of my body, kissing my shoulders and the swell of my breasts.

“Mm…” I moaned, then screamed when he bit me there. “Fuck!”

“That’s it,” he whispered, his fingers sliding along my dripping folds very slowly. “Let me hear every single sound you make.”

“Oh God…!”

He bit the spot again, then licked it, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that made me want to press my thighs together.

But I couldn’t.

A gasp tore out of me when two of his fingers moved inside me, curling up just enough to make me see stars.

The whip dropped to the ground and his free hand moved to hold my neck, pulling me back so he could look at me.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

My mind was too numb to form a thought as his fingers pumped in and out of me, so I nodded.

His pace was so perfect, like he knew exactly what my body needed. “Use your words, wife.”

Pressure built low in my stomach.

I was getting so close to my climax already.

“I want… to come on your fingers,” I cried out, shuddering when his hand tightened around my neck.

And just as my orgasm was about to hit, Damon pulled his hand away—cutting it off completely.

His evil smirk returned. “Too bad. You’ll come only when I decide.”

“No…” I begged. “I’m sorry… please…”

He ignored my plea and bent down to pick up the whip.

“Already begging?” he asked. “I haven’t even started.”

I struggled against the cuff but my actions were futile. “Just one more. Please, Damon.”

Damon didn’t give in.

He slowly teased my inner thigh with the whip and then, he lifted it and brought it down against my lap.

I screamed, bracing for pain.

But instead—pleasure tore through me.