Damon walks up to a door with the number 7 on it. As his keys jangle, I take the opportunity to stare at him to my heart’s content without him noticing.

The leather of his jacket is pulled snug, the fabric rippling with every little move he makes.

He’s been quiet since we got down from the abandoned building. Even the way he rode was different. More subdued. Sedate.

We continued riding for a while, then Damon asked me if I wanted to buy something to go and have dinner at his place. I said yes, of course.

My heart thumps in my chest. Regular but fast-paced. I’m about to see Damon’s apartment.

What does it look like in there? What’s going to happen inside? Will I still be a virgin when I walk out of this door?

It takes him a while to take off all the big padlocks attached to the door. I guess paranoia is normal in his line of work. My dad’s the same way, except he can afford a more expensive security system.

Finally, Damon pushes the door open, and I step inside. I notice there are holes for padlocks on the other side of the door too.

I don’t know what I expected. I mean, of course, Damon’s place wouldn’t look like the cover of some interior design magazine.

But still, this place . . . It doesn’t look like anyone lives here at all. It’s so Spartan.

The dark, laminate floor is a rich, warm color but the living room still looks cold. One wall is exposed brick, while the others are covered with dull, white, uninspired paint.

There’s a single coffee table in the middle of the living room and a single three-seater couch. A lone TV perches on top of a stack of cardboard boxes.

“Where do you want me to put these?” I ask, gesturing at the two warm pizza boxes on my hands.

Damon takes his gaze off his phone and looks at me for a couple of seconds too long, like he’s distracted by something.

“Just put them on the coffee table,” he says finally, pointing at it with his hand as if there’s any other table here I could mistake it with. “And sit there. Don’t touch anything.”

The tone of his voice isn’t exactly welcoming. There’s something different about him, but maybe it’s just because he’s in a melancholy mood.

“So I can touch the couch, right?” I ask in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Your ass can touch the couch. The pizza boxes can touch the table. That’s it.” Damon leans on the kitchen island that separates the living room from the kitchen as he continues to look at his phone.

I take my seat. “You can be a real bossy jerk, you know that?”

“You don’t like that?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he puts his phone on his empty kitchen island. He walks across the living room toward me. “Judging from the way you reacted the other night, it seemed to me like you enjoyed being bossed around.”

“Lucky for you, I’m used to it.” I lean forward to put the pizza boxes on the coffee table, tapping my palms against the surface once just to go against Damon’s orders.

“Careful, princess,” he warns. “I’m nothing like your daddy.”

For a split second, I feel like there’s real anger that flashes in his eyes, like he’s not just joking with me.

Does he hate being compared to my dad that much? That’s understandable, I guess. Nobody wants to be a stand-in for the parents of someone they’re dating, right?

“Yeah?” I turn to face Damon as he takes a seat beside me. “How are you different?”

I’ll admit I’m deliberately provoking a reaction out of him. Yes, he seems intimidating when he’s like this. Still, I prefer this version of Damon than the one who rode with me back from the abandoned building.

He grabs my chin in his hand and forces my head up to look at him. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, princess?”

“No.”

“You should be,” he says with a mean smile.

“I’m not like other girls, Damon,” I say with false bravado.

“Of course, you’re not,” he says. “You’re a Guerriero.”

Damon thinks I’m just a spoiled, sheltered princess. But that’s not all I am.

If I want him to take me seriously, I need him to see that. I’m not just a toy for him to play with for a little while, just so he can tell everyone that he has conquered the boss’ daughter.

“That’s right. I’m a Guerriero. I grew up with men like you walking in and out of my house all the time,” I say. “You like to act tough but deep down you’re just like everyone else.”

Damon chuckles, his grip on my chin tightening. “You know what the difference is, though, princess?”

I remain silent as I challenge him with my eyes.

“You’re not home right now. Your daddy’s not here.” Damon leans in so close I can feel his breath on my skin. Then, he says, “Your daddy doesn’t even know you’re here.”

A chill runs down my arms but I try to keep my composure. “So what?”

A lopsided smile forms on Damon’s lips. They’re so close I can almost touch them with mine. And God, I’m dying to. But I have to win this little battle first.

“So, princess, there’s no one here to protect you,” he says. “You’re on your own. You know why all those scary, scary men who visit your house act like they’re cuddly, harmless teddy bears?”

I stare silently at Damon. Somehow I feel like he doesn’t actually expect an answer from me.

“Because they know your daddy won’t like it if they upset you. Can’t make the boss’ daughter cry,” he says with a cruel, mocking expression on his handsome face.

“I don’t break that easily.”

“We’ll see.” Damon stares sharply into my eyes. “But princess, remember . . . You’re in my place now. And when you’re here, you’re not a Guerriero. You leave your last name behind. You’re just you. Just a girl.”

I shrug. “I’ve always felt burdened by that name anyway.”

Amusement dances in Damon’s eyes. “When you’re here, you do everything I say.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You will,” he answers arrogantly.

Damon puts his hand on the back of my head and crushes his lips against mine.

“Open,” he whispers into my mouth as he traces my lips with his tongue and nibbles on my bottom lip.

I try to resist. But the more he coaxes me to respond, the harder it becomes to stand my ground.

Parting my lips, I let Damon sweep inside and slide his tongue against mine. He’s rough, forceful, almost violent. It’s a ravishing assault that warns me of what’s to come.

He overwhelms my senses, and it’s all I can do to hold onto him as he overpowers me.

I should make my point. I should push him away.

But he’s giving me something I’ve always secretly craved, something I wasn’t even sure existed.

When Damon pulls away, my mind is spinning.

“You’re dying to submit yourself to my will. I can tell,” he whispers against his lips.

I force my brain to come up with something. “Maybe that’s just what I want you to think.”

Damon chuckles. “I doubt it, princess.”

His hand moves down. As much as I try to control myself, I can’t help but gasp when his fingers make contact with my knee, play with the hem of my skirt, and dance up along my thigh.

I’ve been kissed and touched by boys before. But not like this. Nothing close to this. Damon acts like he possesses me, like he doesn’t need my permission to do the things he does, like he can read my mind and knows exactly what I want him to do to me.

My body tightens with need. I want him—I need him to slip his hand into my panties and make me come right now.

A moan escapes my lips as I part my thighs, giving him better access to my center.

“You say things, princess,” Damon whispers into my ear. “But you don’t mean them. Your body is more honest, though.”

I want to protest, to tell Damon he’s wrong. But his touch dominates not just my body. Try as I may, I can’t focus on anything other than the way he drags his fingers up and down my thigh, getting closer to the top of my legs before pulling away again.

My breathing turns into shallow pants. I avoid his gaze, knowing he’ll see the desire in my eyes, plain as day.

But even if my eyes don’t give me away, I betray myself when I cry out as he slides his hand over my panties, rubbing my folds over the sheer, lace fabric.

“You know you want to give yourself up to me, princess.” Damon bites lightly on my earlobe, his every syllable heightening my arousal.

He strokes my lower lips over my panties. Then, he shoves the small strip of fabric aside, and I’m pressing directly against his firm hand.

Another moan passes between my lips. It feels like a furnace has started in my core. I don’t even have the strength to disagree with Damon. I want him so badly I can’t breathe.

Damon drags his lips down my neck, his breath caressing my sensitive skin. He bites down and sucks my flesh into his mouth. It hurts and he’s going to leave a mark, but I don’t care.

“You’re delicious, princess. Has anyone ever told you that?”

I shake my head but stop myself from telling him I’ve never even let anybody get this far. I don’t want to say or do anything to make him rethink this.

My body tenses up when one digit presses against my opening. Only my fingers have ventured there so far. Damon’s finger feels foreign, invasive—but strangely, not in an unpleasant way.

“Open up for me, princess. Relax,” he coaxes.

I take a few deep breaths to loosen my muscles. Is Damon going to find out that I’m a virgin? What will he think about that? Will it turn him on, or will it only make him hesitant to go further?

Damon pushes his finger inside me, and I swallow down my nervousness. His hot breath against my neck gets heavier, telling me he’s getting all worked up too.

His finger is longer and thicker than mine. Sad as it sounds, I’ve never had anything this deep inside me before, and it feels good. At the same time, he’s only making me feel more empty, like there’s so much more of me he can fill up.

Then, Damon does some kind of flick with his finger inside me. A jolt of pleasure rips through my whole body. What was that? My G-spot? It has never felt like that with my own fingers.

Damon chuckles. He whispers in my ear, “You’re so sensitive, princess.”

I can only answer with a moan as Damon’s thumb moves to my clit, rubbing me in lazy circles. My body tightens in a familiar way. I’ve played with myself, of course. But this feels a thousand times more intense than when I’m alone in my bed at night.

“That’s right, princess. Soak my fingers,” he says, making me aware of the abundant wetness leaking out of me.

Damon adds another finger inside me and I lean my head back on the couch, unable to move, aside from the involuntary quivers that happen when the sensations become too much. Damon’s taking full control of my body with just one hand.

I can’t help but wonder what it’ll feel like when he’s using his whole body, his weight on top of me and his naked body brushing against mine. How will I feel when it’s his cock inside me, sliding in and out of my pussy?

I squeeze my eyes shut as my orgasm roars to the surface. I’m so close . . . For the first time in my life, someone’s about to see what I look like when I come, and that someone is Damon.

I force my eyes open to look at Damon, but my vision’s all blurry. I can’t even focus.

Yet, I can hear obscene squelching as Damon thrusts his fingers in and out of me, his thumb rubbing more insistently on my clit.

All of a sudden, Damon places his mouth on my throat and bites down, making me gasp in surprise. It hurts . . . but the pain only spurs my arousal on, sending me over the edge.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my fingers,” he says.

That’s it. That does it.

As if I’m just obeying his orders, my body shakes and shudders out of control. I’ve never come this hard in my life. My body slides down the couch, gravity impaling me even deeper on Damon’s fingers as I explode, my muscles clenching around him.

“Fuck. You look so hot when you come,” Damon whispers hoarsely. He takes my hand and puts it over the front of his jeans.

As I come down from my peak, Damon’s fingers still inside me, I realize what the large bulge under my hand is.

I look up at Damon as I caress him, feeling his shape through denim. He groans, his brows knitted in sexy concentration.

It’s strange. I know he’s much, much bigger than me. Much, much stronger than me. But knowing I can get that reaction out of him . . . it makes me feel powerful.

As Damon pulls his hand out of me, I notice his fingers are soaked with my juices.

It hasn’t escaped his attention too. He smirks as he smears my wetness on my lips. “Taste yourself,” he commands.

I swipe my tongue over my lips, grazing over his fingers too. I know what I taste like; I’ve tried it, out of curiosity. This is nothing new to me.

But Damon’s eyes burn with lust at the sight. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, staring at me intensely like he wants to consume me whole.

A loud ring interrupts us, and I watch Damon to see what he’ll do. Is he going to ignore it? By the way his body freezes, that doesn’t seem likely.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“What is it?”

“Fucking great timing,” he says, glancing at the phone on the kitchen counter. He turns to me. “Hold tight, princess.”