After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

Damien didn’t put her down. He carried her through the labyrinth of the estate, his grip on her thighs bruisingly tight, ignoring the servants who scattered out of their path like frightened birds.

Aria wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. She could hear the heavy, furious rhythm of his heart against her chest, a war drum that matched the frantic, erratic beating of her own.

For all her bravado downstairs—the finger-licking, the taunts—the reality of what was about to happen was starting to crash down on her. She was about to do something she had never done, with a man who looked ready to burn the world down just to get her alone. Her stomach twisted in a knot of anticipation and sheer, paralyzing nerves.

He reached the double doors of his room and twisted the handle. He kicked the door open, the wood shuddering against the frame, and carried her inside.

He set her down on her feet, but only for a split second to slam the door and lock it.

Then, he moved.

He grabbed the massive antique dresser—solid oak, heavy enough to crush a person—and shoved it across the floor. The wood screamed against the floor, a harsh, violent sound that made Aria’s pulse spike. He wedged it firmly against the door, then added a heavy armchair for good measure.

”Damien?” Aria whispered, watching the muscles in his back bunch and flex under his suit jacket.

He turned to her. His chest was heaving, his tie was gone, and his eyes were wild.

”No one,” he snarled, ”is coming in.”

He crossed the room in two strides. He grabbed the delicate straps of the neon green sundress—the dress that cost four thousand dollars and was made of hand-dyed ostrich feathers and silk.

He ripped it.

The sound of expensive couture tearing was incredibly erotic. The feathers fluttered to the floor like radioactive snow. The silk gave way, pooling at her feet. Aria stood there in just the black lace panties, the cool air hitting her heated skin. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and thrillingly claimed.

”Damien!”

”Don’t cover,” he commanded, catching her wrists as she instinctively moved to hide herself. ”I want to see you.”

He lifted her, tossing her onto the center of the massive bed. The mattress dipped, the springs creaking in anticipation. Aria scrambled backward against the pillows, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She watched him strip. Jacket, shirt, belt, trousers—discarded in a pile.

When he finally stood bare before her, Aria’s mouth went dry. He was... magnificent. He was covered in faint scars, a map of his violent childhood, but right now, all she could focus on was how...big he was.

He reached into the pocket of his discarded trousers, retrieving a small foil square. He tore it open with his teeth, his eyes never leaving hers, and sheathed himself with a quick, efficient motion. The condom rolled down the length of him, straining against the girth.

He crawled onto the bed, a dark shadow moving over her. He settled between her knees, spreading them wide.

”You’re shaking,” he noted, his voice rough. His hands slid up her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh.

”I’m... nervous,” Aria admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She looked at his muscular chest, watching the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. ”Damien, I haven’t... I don’t know what to do.”

”You don’t have to do anything,” he promised, leaning down to kiss the hollow of her throat. ”Just feel me.”

He hooked his fingers into the black lace and tore it. The panties ruined, he tossed the scrap of fabric aside.

He positioned himself at her entrance. The heat of him was shocking. Aria gasped, her hips bucking instinctively, half in fear, half in a desperate, blinding need to be closer.

Damien looked down at her, seeing the wide-eyed panic mixing with desire, and forced himself to stillness. ”I know it’s your first time. I’m going to try to be gentle. But I need to be inside you. Now.”

He pushed forward.

Aria cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. It was a sharp, stretching pressure—a feeling of being filled too full, too fast. It wasn’t like the books. It was raw. It was real. It was painful.

Damien froze. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he held himself rigid, buried only an inch inside her tight heat.

”Breathe, Aria,” he groaned, his arms trembling with the effort of holding back. ”Relax for me. Let me in.”

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping her mouth while his hand continued to fondle her breast, pinching the nipple to distract her from the stretch.

Aria squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling shakily.

”Okay,” she whispered against his lips. ”Move.”

Damien’s eyes flared.

He thrust.

He sank into her completely in one long, smooth stroke. Aria screamed, her back arching off the mattress as the sting dissolved into a blinding, overwhelming fullness. She felt stretched, consumed, completely occupied.

”Damien,” she sobbed his name, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer.

”Relax,” he rasped.

He began to move.

At first, it was slow. Agonizingly deep. He withdrew almost completely before driving back in, hitting a spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. The bed frame groaned rhythmically, a steady thud-thud-thud against the wall that echoed in the silence.

But as Aria’s body adjusted, the pain faded into a dull ache and then into a sparking, hot pleasure that radiated from her core. She found the rhythm, meeting his thrusts with her own hips.

”That’s it,” Damien growled, feeling her respond. ”Taking it so well.”

Aria’s moans shifted from pained whimpers to breathless cries. She clawed at his back, needing more friction, more pressure.

That was the match in the powder keg.

Damien lost control.

”Fuck,” he swore.

He abandoned gentle. He pounded into her, his thrusts hard and fast, driving her into the mattress. The headboard slammed against the wall with violent force. The bed actually moved across the floor with every stroke.

”Damien!” Aria screamed, her head thrashing against the pillow. ”Yes! Yes!”

He was relentless. He grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head, his mouth devouring hers to catch her cries. He moved with a savage hunger, trying to imprint himself onto her very soul.

Aria was drowning. The friction, the heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin—it was too much. She felt the coil in her belly tighten, winding tighter and tighter until she couldn’t breathe.

”Cum for me,” he growled against her ear, his hips snapping against hers. ”Cum on my cock, Aria.”

She shattered.

It was a white-hot explosion. Her inner muscles clamped down around him, her body convulsing in wave after wave of pleasure. She saw stars. She even forgot her name.

Feeling her release broke him. Damien groaned, a guttural roar of satisfaction, and drove into her three more times, hard and deep, before pouring himself into her, the protection catching his spill.

CRACK.

With a loud snap of wood, the bed frame gave way. The mattress dropped three inches, listing to the side.

Neither of them moved.

Damien collapsed on top of her, his weight crushing her into the sheets, his face buried in her neck. Aria lay there, her chest heaving, her legs trembling, staring up at the ceiling.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.

Damien rolled off her, disposing of the protection before pulling her back into his side. He wrapped the duvet around them, creating a cocoon. He kissed her sweat-dampened temple, his hand resting possessively on her stomach.

”Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Aria shook her head against his shoulder. She felt boneless, floaty, and completely rearranged.

”No,” she whispered, a small giggle bubbling up in her throat. ”But I think we broke the bed.”