Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

Damian’s obsidian eyes darkened to pitch-black as his gaze swept slowly over her, drinking in every contour of her exposed form. The cold, calculating master of Northwood vanished completely beneath a raw, primal hunger.

​Slowly, deliberately, his large, calloused hands found her waist. The rough heat of his palms contrasted sharply against the silk of her skin as his fingers traced the soft curve of her hips, sending a jolt of static electricity straight through her veins.

He took his time, charting every line with a possessive certainty, before his touch slid slowly upward along her ribs, his hand cupping the fullness of her breast.

​When his fingers tightened, squeezing with firm, undeniable possession, Ana let out a sharp, breathless gasp. Her back arched involuntarily, her pulse hammering against her throat.

​"Kiss me, Anastasia," Damian commanded, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that left no room for hesitation.

​Ana swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her ears. Trembling, she leaned down toward him, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder to keep it from falling between them. Her lips brushed against his... tentative, soft, and fragile, testing the dangerous waters between them.

​Damian wasn’t having it.

​Before she could pull back, his uninjured hand tangled violently into her hair at the nape of her neck, locking her in place. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he surged forward, crushing his mouth down on hers with overwhelming, hungry ferocity.

​It was a bruising, consuming kiss, stripping away every ounce of her hesitation. Damian parted her lips with rough urgency, tasting her deeply, fiercely claiming every breath in her lungs until the world spun away and Ana was left clinging to his broad shoulders, completely lost in the storm.

Damian’s mouth trailed a slow, fevered path down the curve of her jaw, pressing hot, demanding kisses against the sensitive hollow beneath her ear and down the slope of her neck.

Ana’s head tilted back involuntarily, a soft whimper catching in her throat as his teeth lightly grazed the delicate skin of her shoulder blade, marking her with undeniable possession.

​Pulling back just enough to look into her dazed, flushed face, his breathing was heavy and ragged. His obsidian eyes burned with an unrelenting, dark intensity.

​"Take them off," Damian commanded, his gravelly voice dropping into a harsh, breathless rasp. "All the way."

​Ana, her pulse hammering wildly against her ribs, lowered herself between his legs on the mattress. Her fingers shook as she reached for the buckle of his belt.

With frantic, unpracticed care, conscious of the tension near his bandaged ribs, she unfastened the clasp and worked the zipper down, sliding the heavy trousers and fabric over his hips until nothing stood between them.

​The heat radiating from him was suffocating, filling every corner of the shadowed room.

​Damian’s large, calloused hands found her hips, his grip unyielding as he guided her up. His gaze locked onto hers with a fierce, intoxicating gravity that stole whatever breath she had left.

​"Ride me, Anastasia," Damian commanded, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated straight through her core. "Drive me crazy."

Anastasia’s gaze traveled down his powerful frame. Even with dark bruises marring his skin and fresh bandages tightly bound around his ribs, there was not a single trace of weakness in him.

His lethal authority remained entirely intact, carved into every line of his jaw and burning with absolute dominance in his obsidian eyes.

​"Show me how much you want me, Anastasia," Damian commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that unraveled the last remnants of her restraint.

​Her hands moved with hesitant curiosity, her touch drawing a sharp, ragged hiss of pleasure from between his clenched teeth. Leaning down, she enveloped him in her intoxicating heat, her movements slow and deliberate.

Damian’s large, calloused hands locked onto her waist with an unyielding grip, his knuckles turning white as he anchored her close.

​Ana began to move, setting a steady, breathless rhythm that filled the quiet shadows of the bedroom with soft, ragged gasps and broken moans.

​Damian’s gaze never wavered from hers. He watched every flicker of raw emotion across her flushed face, drinking in the sight of her completely surrendered to him, moving to his reckless tempo.

The sight of them joined in the dim light was pure, intoxicating ecstasy to him... a dark, absolute confirmation of his ownership and her fierce, undeniable surrender.

​Ana rode the rising tide of heat, giving in to every demand of his touch until her trembling limbs could no longer fight the overwhelming wave. With a breathless, shuddering gasp, she fractured completely, collapsing into the blinding bliss of her release against the steady, protective wall of his chest.

The blinding wave of Anastasia’s release rippled through him, shattering Damian’s ironclad control.

​A low, guttural groan tore from his throat. His uninjured arm locked around her waist, his large hand anchoring her hips as he surged upward into her with bruising, desperate intensity. He set a punishing, ragged pace, drinking in her breathless whimpers as his dark eyes locked onto hers through the shadows.

With one final, devastating thrust, Damian stiffened, a ragged shudder ripping through his powerful frame as he buried his face into the hollow of her neck, losing himself entirely in his own consuming release.

​For long minutes, the only sound in the room was their ragged, synchronized breathing.

​Damian carefully shifted, pulling Ana down onto the mattress. Mindful of his bandaged ribs, he rolled her onto her side, gathering her small, trembling body flush against his broad chest. Ana’s head rested over his heart, her fingers loosely curled into the dark sheets.

When she instinctively made a move to shift to her side of the sprawling bed, his heavy arm tightened like an iron band across her waist, refusing to grant an inch of distance.

​"Stay," Damian rasped, his voice thick with exhaustion and dark satisfaction as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss against the crown of her head. Tucked safely against his warmth, Ana’s heavy eyelids fluttered shut, drifting into the first deep, dreamless sleep she had known in years.

________________________

​When the pale, golden hues of dawn broke through the high leaded glass, Ana woke to the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Damian’s chest. His features were softened by deep sleep, the harsh lines of tension temporarily smoothed away.

​Carefully easing out from under his heavy arm so as not to disturb his healing wounds, Ana slipped on a silk robe and quietly stepped out of the master suite.

​She made her way downstairs to the sunlit morning parlor to fetch a fresh pot of herbal tea. As she entered, she found Victoria Sterling already sitting near the French doors, an immaculate cup of Earl Grey in hand.

​Ana froze slightly, old instincts making her brace for a sharp critique, but Victoria merely lowered her cup. Victoria’s sharp, observant gaze swept over Ana... taking in the soft flush on her cheeks, the faint, undeniable marks blossoming near the hollow of her collarbone, and the gentle, careful way she moved.

​"Anastasia," Victoria said, her tone devoid of its past venom, replaced instead by a rare, quiet curiosity. "How is he this morning?"

​"He’s still asleep," Ana answered softly, stepping toward the sideboard. "His breathing is steady, and he didn’t run a fever through the night."

​Victoria set her porcelain saucer down with a delicate clink, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her manicured lips. "I see. And you’re certain your... vigorous activities last night didn’t put unnecessary physical strain on his stitches?"

​Ana’s face instantly erupted into a fiery, crimson blush. She nearly dropped the silver tea tongs, her eyes widening in mortified shock. "Victoria! I... he was... we were very careful... his bandages are completely intact, I swear!"

​A genuine, amused chuckle escaped Victoria’s lips... a warm, melodic sound Ana had never once heard from the formidable Sterling matriarch.

​"Calm yourself, child. I am glad to see my son with some color back in his face," Victoria said, leaning back into the velvet armchair, her expression turning reflective and unexpectedly soft. "Though, considering your legal status is still divorced, you two might want to make things official again very soon. If you keep up this pace, I expect good news will be right around the corner, and a Sterling heir ought to arrive under a proper marriage certificate."

​Ana stared at her, utterly speechless, her heart pounding wildly as the weight of Victoria’s teasing words settled warmly into the quiet morning air.

The heat on Ana’s cheeks lingered, but the mortification slowly settled into a heavy, quiet ache behind her ribs.

​She looked down at the delicate porcelain teapot in her hands, carefully pouring the hot water to steady her trembling fingers. Victoria’s words... warm, teasing, and filled with an assumption of a shared future... hung in the air like a fragile dream Ana wasn’t entirely sure she was allowed to keep.

​She set the silver pot down and turned to face Victoria, her expression softening into something cautious and deeply vulnerable.

How do I tell her the truth about our relationship?

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