The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Chapter 120: Public Perception

Damien pov

I twisted the shower handle to scalding. Steam billowed up instantly, thick and hot, fogging the glass. I stripped out of the tuxedo in rough, impatient movements—jacket, shirt, belt, pants, boxers—all hitting the marble floor in a careless heap. My cock sprang free, heavy and flushed dark, the tip glistening, veins standing out in stark relief. I stepped under the punishing spray without waiting for it to warm fully; the burn against my skin was almost welcome.

One hand slapped against the slate tile wall for balance. The other wrapped around my shaft—tight, almost punishing. I gave one long, slow stroke from root to tip, spreading the slickness leaking from the slit, and a ragged groan tore out of me.

"Aria..."

Her name tasted like sin on my tongue.

I pictured her on her knees in front of me—right here, water streaming over her dark hair, turning it sleek and black as ink. Those striking eyes looking up at me while her perfect lips stretched around my cock, cheeks hollowing as she sucked me deep. I imagined the wet heat of her mouth, the flutter of her tongue under the sensitive ridge, the way she’d gag just a little when I hit the back of her throat and still keep going because she wanted to please me.

My hand moved faster—harder—twisting at the head on every upstroke the way she used to do with those clever fingers before she took me in her mouth. I remembered the way she’d moan around me, the vibration shooting straight to my balls.

"Fuck—yes—just like that"

My hips jerked forward into my fist. Water pounded against my shoulders, my back, my ass. Heat coiled low and vicious in my gut.

I imagined flipping her around instead—bending her over, hands braced on the bench, ass up, thighs spread. Sliding into her from behind in one brutal thrust, feeling her tight cunt open around me, ripple and flutter, milking me. Imagined gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, fucking her relentlessly while I reached around to rub her clit in tight circles until she screamed my name and came so hard she soaked my thighs.

The fantasy snapped the last thread.

I came with a choked, guttural groan—her name ripped from my throat like a confession. Thick ropes of cum painted the tile in front of me, pulse after pulse, my balls drawing up tight as pleasure ripped through me in violent waves. My knees nearly buckled.

I braced both hands on the wall now, head hanging, chest heaving under the relentless spray.

But even as the aftershocks faded, my cock twitched—already thickening again, already hungry.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough until it was her—her hands, her mouth, her pussy, her cries.

"Fuck," I muttered, forehead dropping to the cool tile. Water streamed down my face, mixing with sweat. "This is going to be a long fucking night."

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow I’d start again. Slower. Smarter. I’d earn every inch of her trust back, every moan, every surrender.

Because when I finally got inside her—when she finally let me claim her the way we both needed—I wasn’t stopping until she understood one irrefutable truth:

She was mine.

And I was never letting her go again.

Aria’s POV – The Next Morning

The headlines were everywhere.

I sat at the breakfast table, phone in one hand, coffee in the other, scrolling through article after article while Noah ate his cereal beside me.

"BLACKWOOD-MONROE MERGER: Business or Pleasure?"

"Ice King Melts for Former Wife at Charity Gala"

"Ravenwood’s Power Couple Reunites: Inside Their Passionate Dance"

But it was the photos that made my stomach flip. Dozens of them—Damien’s hand on my back, possessive and warm. Us dancing, bodies pressed together, his forehead nearly touching mine. The look in his eyes that clearly said he wanted to devour me.

And one particularly devastating shot: the moment right before we’d been interrupted, when his lips had been inches from mine, when I’d been looking at him like he was oxygen and I was drowning.

"Mama, why do you look worried?" Noah asked around a mouthful of cereal.

"I’m not worried, baby." I set down my phone. "Just reading boring news stuff."

"About you and Daddy?" He swallowed. "Dora showed me pictures on her phone. You guys looked really pretty."

"Dora shouldn’t have" I stopped myself. Of course the entire staff had seen the photos. The entire city had seen them. "Yes, about me and Daddy."

"Everyone’s saying you’re in love." Noah said it matter-of-factly. "Dora says it’s obvious."

"Dora talks too much." But I was smiling despite myself.

"Are you?" Noah set down his spoon, looking at me with those devastating blue eyes. "In love with Daddy? Like in the movies?"

How was I supposed to answer that? My four-year-old son was asking me to define feelings I barely understood myself.

"It’s complicated, baby." I brushed hair from his forehead. "Grown-up feelings are messy."

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