Claimed by My Ex's Half-Brother-Chapter 124 I want to do this

Victoria’s POV

He positioned himself at my entrance and thrust forward in one powerful movement, filling me completely. I cried out, the sound echoing in the night air.

"Fuck, Victoria," he groaned, his grip on my hips tightening as he established a punishing rhythm. "You feel so goddamn perfect."

Each thrust pushed me forward against the railing, the cool metal contrasting with the heat of our bodies. Damien reached around to cup my breasts, pinching my nipples between his fingers as he continued to drive into me from behind.

"Tell me who you belong to," he demanded, his breath hot against my neck.

"You," I moaned, too lost in pleasure to care about pride. "I belong to you, Damien."

His pace increased, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. One of his hands slid down to where we were joined, his fingers finding my clit again. He circled it mercilessly as he pounded into me, building me toward another climax.

"Come for me," he commanded. "Now."

As if my body was attuned to his voice alone, I shattered, my inner walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over me. He followed moments later, groaning my name as he filled me with his release.

We stayed connected for several moments, both catching our breath as we looked out at the city lights. Eventually, he turned me around to face him, kissing me deeply before carrying me back inside.

But he wasn’t finished with me yet. Not even close.

In my bedroom, he laid me on the bed with surprising gentleness, only to flip me onto my stomach moments later. His hands gripped my ass, kneading the flesh appreciatively before delivering a sharp slap that made me gasp.

"Every time I see you, I want to do this." he admitted, his voice dark with desire.

He spread my legs, positioning himself between them before sliding into me once more. This angle was different, allowing him to hit spots inside me I didn’t even know existed. I clutched the sheets, moaning into the pillow as he established a rhythm that was both torturous and divine.

His body covered mine, his chest pressed against my back as he continued to thrust. His lips found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before biting down hard enough to mark me. The mixture of pain and pleasure pushed me closer to the edge.

"Damien," I gasped, feeling my climax approaching again. "I’m close..."

"Not yet," he commanded, slowing his pace to an agonizing crawl. "I want to see your face when you come."

He withdrew completely, leaving me feeling empty and desperate, before flipping me onto my back. His eyes, dark with desire, locked with mine as he positioned himself again.

"Wrap your legs around me," he instructed, and I eagerly complied.

This time, his entry was slow, deliberate—he wanted me to feel every inch as he filled me. When he was fully seated, he paused, leaning down to capture my lips in a kiss that was surprisingly tender given the ferocity of our previous encounters.

"You’re mine, Victoria," he murmured against my lips. "Say it again."

"I’m yours," I whispered back, lost in the intensity of his gaze.

He rewarded my admission by beginning to move again, his thrusts deep and measured. One of his hands slipped between us, his thumb finding my clit with unerring precision. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, and I could feel myself racing toward another orgasm.

"Come with me this time," he said, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he approached his own release.

Together, we tumbled over the edge, my cries mingling with his groans as pleasure consumed us both. He collapsed on top of me, both of us sweaty and spent, our hearts beating in tandem.

But even that wasn’t the end of our night.

Sometime later—I’d lost all track of time—Damien carried me to the bathroom. The large soaking tub filled with steaming water and fragrant bubbles. He stepped in first, then pulled me in after him, positioning me so I sat between his legs, my back against his chest.

His hands, slick with soap, explored my body beneath the water, relearning every curve and plane. When his fingers found their way between my thighs again, I moaned, oversensitive but still wanting more.

"Again?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.

His smile was predatory. "I’m nowhere near done with you tonight."

He lifted me effortlessly, turning me to face him as I straddled his lap in the water. I could feel his hardness pressing against my core, ready once more. Water sloshed over the edges of the tub as I sank down onto him, taking him deep inside me.

This position gave me more control, and I set the pace, rising and falling on his length as his hands guided my hips. The water created a different sensation, making every movement feel amplified and surreal.

Damien’s mouth found my breast, sucking and licking as I rode him. His hands gripped my ass, helping me maintain the rhythm as I moved faster, chasing another climax.

"That’s it," he encouraged, his voice tight with restraint. "Take what you need from me."

I did exactly that, grinding against him with increasing urgency until I felt myself tightening around him once more. This orgasm was different—slower, deeper, spreading through my entire body like warm honey. I collapsed against his chest as it washed over me, his name a litany on my lips.

He held me through it, then suddenly stood, water cascading off our bodies as he stepped out of the tub with me still wrapped around him. He pressed me against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, driving into me with renewed vigor until he found his own release, groaning my name against my neck.

By the time he finally carried me back to bed, I was utterly spent. My limbs felt like lead, my body thoroughly claimed by this man who seemed insatiable. I vaguely remember him cleaning both of us with a warm washcloth before pulling me against his chest.

The last thing I felt before drifting off to sleep was his lips pressing gently against my forehead, and his arms tightening possessively around me.

I have no idea when sleep claimed me. All I remember is the satisfied look on Damien’s face as he watched me with those intense dark eyes of his.

Damien gazed at me in his arms, my skin flushed pink from the hot water, the pale areas marked with evidence of his passion—purple bruises and red marks that marred what had been a perfect canvas. These were his marks, his claim on me, and they filled him with a primal satisfaction. It was the mark of an Alpha who had found his.

I couldn’t recall when his intense gaze had first become so fixed on me, unable to tear itself away. He wasn’t a soft man, certainly no saint, but whenever he saw me in trouble or being mistreated, something fierce and protective ignited within him. Now, he held me tighter against him, as if this instinctive embrace could ensure I would remain exclusively his.

When I woke the next morning, I immediately sensed confinement, a tight hold. Opening my eyes, I found myself face-to-face with Damien’s impossibly handsome features. I was locked in his embrace, his cheek pressed against my head in the most intimate of positions.

His arms encircled my waist, and since we were both still completely naked, I could feel every inch of his skin pressed against mine.

Last night had been impulsive, everything happening naturally in the heat of passion. But now, fully awake, I had no idea how to handle this situation. I couldn’t exactly greet him with a cheerful "hey" like nothing had happened. Nor could I sneak away while he slept—this was my place after all. Why should I be the one to leave?

My mind raced with these thoughts as I decided to carefully extract myself from his arms and at least put some clothes on. That would make facing him when he woke less awkward than being completely naked.

Just as I was about to slip out of his embrace, his arm tightened around me, pulling me firmly back against him.

I looked at him and saw his eyes were still closed—clearly pretending to be asleep.

"Since you’re awake, get up and stop lounging around in my home," I said firmly.

Only then did he peel open his eyes to narrow slits. "Talk about burning bridges. Who was it clinging to me last night begging me not to leave?"

"Don’t twist my words. I definitely said ’no,’ not ’don’t go,’ " I retorted, every muscle in my body protesting from his thorough attention the night before.

"Next time I’ll record everything you say so you can’t deny it later," he smirked.

"I—" I started to reply but stopped abruptly.

Wait. Next time? Was that what he was suggesting?

"Just get up already!"

"No rush. It’s early. Let’s sleep a bit longer." He pulled me closer, positioning us like we were intimate lovers, not just two people who’d shared a night of passion.

"I’m done sleeping. Let me go!" I tried to pry his hands away, but he only tightened his grip.

"Sleep a little more. Keep me company," he murmured near my ear, his voice deep and husky with lingering drowsiness.