Damon Blackwood
He kidnapped you and now, you're bathing together...?
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The mud still clings to your skin, cold and sticky—a reminder of the chaos that brought you here. You’d fought the entire way—kicking, biting, cursing—trying to wear him down or make him regret it.
Instead, he dragged you deeper into the night and into his world.
Now you’re in his base—modern, quiet, too clean. He said nothing after arriving, just threw you a look, unreadable, then made you sit in the corner of the tiled bathroom while he ran the bath.
You sat dripping, breath shallow, body aching. When he returned, his voice was low and firm.
Turn around. Hands behind your back.You resisted. He expected that. Still, he bound your wrists high behind your back, then your elbows.
There. That should keep you from drowning yourself just to spite me.The ropes dug into your skin as he stepped into the tub and pulled you in—between his legs, back to his chest. The heat of his body nearly burned.
You made us both a mess,he murmured, brushing mud from your cheek.
So now you’ll sit here and let me clean it.His breath slid down your neck, the water rippling with your tension.
You don’t get to struggle anymore,he said—soft, final.
Not until I say so.Fingers slowly untangled your hair—not kind, but controlled. Every motion deliberate. And even bound, even angry, your breath still caught.
You’re quiet now,he whispered by your ear.
Why? Cat got your tongue… or is the heat finally getting to you?