Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

The weekend arrived, but Damian’s relentless, possessive hold on her hadn’t eased for a single second.

​Steam filled the sprawling marble bathroom of the penthouse, the water in the oversized tub sloshing over the edges. Ana rested back against Damian’s broad, slick chest, her back arching as he drove into her from behind.

His large hands held a firm, unyielding grip on her hips, anchoring her against him while his mouth trailed a trail of searing, wet kisses down her exposed neck.

​"Damian... please," Ana gasped, her hands gripping the smooth rim of the tub as a fresh wave of pleasure made her knees tremble beneath the water. "It’s too much... you’ve been non-stop all week..."

​It was the absolute truth. Ever since she had taken charge of the marketing overhaul and spent her days surrounded by her intern team, Damian’s jealousy had escalated into an obsession.

Every evening the moment she returned to the penthouse, he claimed her... on the couch, against the kitchen island, in the shower... as if physically reinforcing his mark on every inch of her skin.

​"You spend all day giving your attention to others, Anastasia," Damian growled low against her ear, his rhythm deepening, ruthless and unrelenting. "At night, you give every breath to me."

​He captured her lips in a deep, dominating kiss that cut off her protests. His broad palm slid underwater, cupping her breast, his thumb pressing into her hardened peak as he drove her straight over the edge.

Ana let out a muffled whimper into his mouth, shattering completely beneath his absolute control.

________________________

​Later that morning, the intense heat of the bathroom gave way to the quiet luxury of the dining hall.

​Ana sat at the grand marble breakfast table, wrapped in a plush silk robe, grumbling under her breath as she picked at her plate of poached eggs and avocado toast. Her body was sore, her muscles aching with the sweet, exhausting weight of his touch.

​Across the table, Damian sat impeccably dressed in his comfort clothes, looking completely refreshed as he casually read the morning financial news and took a slow sip of black coffee.

​"You’re insatiable," Ana muttered quietly, glaring at him over the rim of her juice glass.

​Damian didn’t even look up from his paper, though the corner of his firm lips twitched with a ghost of a smirk. "Eat your breakfast. A team of celebrity stylists and makeup artists will be here in an hour to prepare you for the Gala tonight."

​Despite her lingering exhaustion, Ana found herself thoroughly enjoying the pampering. By early afternoon, the master suite had been transformed into a private salon.

A team of top-tier professionals moved around her with practiced ease... styling her hair into sophisticated, glossy waves, applying radiant, high-fashion makeup, and carefully draping the midnight-blue gown over her frame.

​Ana leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes as a male aesthetician gently massaged a shimmering, hydrating oil into her exposed shoulders and chest.

​"Your skin is absolute perfection, Ms. Vance," the stylist complimented softly, his hands moving a little too low along the curve of her collarbone to blend the highlight. "Just a touch more here..."

​"That’s enough."

​The tone voice was flat, cold, and heavy as lead.

​The aesthetician froze mid-stroke. Damian stood at the threshold of the dressing room, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his dark eyes locked on the stylist’s hands with an unspoken, deadly threat.

​The room went dead silent. The stylist immediately took two giant steps back, bowing his head nervously. "M-My apologies, Mr. Sterling. She... she is ready."

​Ana caught Damian’s eye in the mirror, biting back a subtle smile at his ridiculous, territorial nature, though a small shiver ran down her spine at the sheer intensity in his gaze.

________________________

​By dusk, the penthouse living room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the setting sun.

​Damian stood near the windows, adjusting his onyx cufflinks. He looked imposing... a dark, ruthless man built for the ruthless high-society world they were about to step into.

​The soft, rhythmic sound of heels clicking down the floating marble staircase echoed through the quiet room.

​Damian turned around slowly.

​Ana descended the stairs with effortless elegance. The liquid midnight-blue dress hugged every curve of her waist before cascading down her legs, leaving her back bare down to her lower spine.

The high halter neck draped gracefully over her collarbone, and a pair of diamond teardrop earrings caught the evening light with every step she took.

​She stopped at the bottom stair, her dark eyes locking onto his.

​Damian stood completely motionless for a long second, his breath hitching slightly in his chest as his dark eyes tracked the breathtaking sight of his ex-wife walking toward him.

​He stepped forward, opening a velvet jewelry box resting on the side table. He pulled out a heavy, multi-carat diamond necklace that sparkled like crushed ice under the chandelier light.

​"Turn around," he commanded softly.

​Ana hesitated before stepping off the last stair and turning her bare back to him. Damian’s large, warm hands brushed against her neck as he fastened the cold platinum clasp around her throat.

But instead of stepping away, his hands settled firmly onto her exposed shoulders, his calloused thumbs slowly stroking her skin.

​He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his deep tone dropping into a low, possessive growl.

​"A reminder, Anastasia," Damian murmured, his dark eyes meeting hers in the grand foyer mirror. "If you want that day off from our contract... you obey me completely tonight."

​Ana’s hands tightened slightly around her silk clutch. "I know how to act at a foundation event, Damian."

​"You will stay at my side," he continued, completely ignoring her response. His grip on her shoulders tightened just enough to lock her in place. "No wandering off. No talking to any other man in that ballroom. If a man so much as looks at you too long, you step closer to me."

​Ana’s head snapped around, her dark eyes flashing with immediate anger. "Excuse me? No talking to any man? Half the board members and investors attending tonight are men!"

​"I don’t care," Damian stated smoothly, his expression unyielding, carved from dark marble. "Tonight, you are my wife. And you belong strictly to me."

​Ana scoffed, a bitter, disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. The sweet pampering of the afternoon instantly vanished, replaced by the suffocating weight of his iron leash.

​"And as for my family..." Damian added, his lips twisting into a subtle, mocking smirk as his dark eyes glinted with ruthless amusement, "...acknowledging my sister and every guest is a must. But slapping them is strictly prohibited tonight."

​Ana’s jaw clenched, her chest heaving with suppressed fury. "You’re absurd."

​"I am a man who holds your contract, Anastasia," Damian reminded her softly, stepping around to face her. He held out his arm, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a silent, absolute demand. "Shall we go?"

​Ana glared at his offered arm, her pride screaming at her to turn around and march back upstairs. But the thought of her freedom... that single day off from his suffocating grip... kept her tethered.

​With a sharp breath, Ana placed her gloved hand over his forearm, her grip tight.

​"Let’s get this nightmare over with," she bit out coldly.

​Damian’s smirk widened slightly as he escorted her out the door into the cool night air, where the sleek black limousine was waiting to take them straight into the lion’s den.

________________________

The grand entrance of the St. Regis Metropolitan Ballroom was an arena of flashing cameras, red carpets, and blinding luxury. Press cameras went wild the moment the sleek black limousine pulled up to the curb.

​Damian stepped out first, tall and imposing, buttoning his suit jacket before extending a heavy hand inside to guide Ana out into the swarm of reporters.

​The press erupted.

​"Mr. Sterling! Over here!"

"Ms Vance, a moment for the camera!"

​Ana put on her flawless, high-society smile, slipping her gloved hand through Damian’s arm as they navigated the red carpet. On the surface, they were the ultimate power couple... regal, stunning, and untouchable.

But beneath her calm exterior, Ana was still fuming over his arrogant, possessive demands in the penthouse.

​The massive double doors swung open, ushering them into the sprawling, candlelit ballroom filled with the city’s elite class.

​Ana took a quiet breath, scanning the crowd. Near the grand champagne fountain stood Victoria Sterling, looking as cold and majestic as ever.

Beside her stood Valerie, her eyes shooting silent daggers the second she spotted Ana. And sitting at a private VIP table nearby, sipping a glass of wine with a sharp, victorious smirk, was Vivian Stark.

​"Remember what I told you," Damian’s low, heavy tone rasped against her ear, his hand firm on her waist.

​Before Ana could bite back a sarcastic response, Damian’s entire body went deadly rigid.

​His footsteps halted abruptly. Ana frowned, looking up at him, but Damian wasn’t looking at his sister or Vivian. His eyes were locked onto the far side of the marble bar... his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek, his dark aura instantly turning ice-cold and murderous.

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