The room smelled like leather, cigars, and power.
Jace Carter had been in fancy offices before slept with a few sugar mamas who lived like queens but nothing ever made his throat dry like this. The walls were black. The lights dimmed low. And behind the massive mahogany desk sat the devil himself.
Damien Moreau.
Wearing a black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, Damien looked more like a model than a monster. But his cold gray eyes said otherwise. They didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Just scanned Jace like he was already stripped bare.
"You're late," Damien said calmly, flipping the file open in front of him. "One hundred and twenty thousand. Interest growing by the day."
Jace swallowed. "I-I just need a little more time."
Damien leaned back in his chair, one brow slightly raised.
"I've given you time, Mr. Carter. What I haven't been given is respect."
Jace's stomach twisted. He was cocky by default, but his swagger cracked under pressure. He looked around the room. Two guards by the door. No windows. What was he thinking? Running away?
"I don't have the money," Jace muttered. "Not yet. But I swear, I'll-"
Damien closed the file. "Then what exactly are you offering?"
The question made Jace freeze. He hadn't thought this far ahead. And in a panic, something stupid so fucking stupid fell out of his mouth.
"I don't know... my body?" he half-laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean… not like you're into that, right?"
A pause.
A silence so heavy it felt physical.
Then Damien smiled.
Not wide. Just a slight curve of his lips like he'd been waiting for Jace to say exactly that.
He stood, slow and deliberate, circling the desk. His presence was magnetic dangerous and quiet. Like a storm rolling in without thunder.
He stopped just in front of Jace. Close enough to smell him. Close enough to touch.
"Take your clothes off."
Jace blinked. "Wait—what?"
Damien's voice dropped, low and calm. "You made an offer. I'm accepting it."
"I was joking"
"Well I'm not."
A hand reached out. Brushed along Jace's jaw. Strong, cool fingers against hot, nervous skin.
"You want the debt gone, Jace?" Damien murmured. "Then strip. Right here. Right now. Or walk out that door and pray I never find you again."
Jace's breath hitched. His body tensed.
And somewhere inside that panic, something darker stirred curiosity.
Jace's mind screamed run, but his body didn't move.
He stared at Damien. The way the man looked at him controlled, calm, certain sent something twisting in his gut. There was no room for doubt in Damien Moreau. No hesitation. He didn't bluff. He didn't threaten.
He promised.
With trembling hands, Jace unbuttoned his shirt. One. Two. Three. The fabric peeled open, exposing the smooth line of his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath. His skin burned like Damien's gaze alone was fire.
Damien stepped back just enough to give him space. "Keep going."
Jace kicked off his shoes. Dropped his shirt to the floor. Then his belt. Then his jeans.
He hesitated at the waistband of his boxers.
"I didn't think you were a coward," Damien murmured, eyes locked on his.
Jace cursed under his breath and pulled them down.
The room felt colder, harsher. His skin prickled as the air touched every inch of him. He stood completely bare in front of a man he didn't understand, offering something he'd never given to anyone not like this.
Damien took his time looking. Eyes dragging over Jace's form with slow, consuming precision. Not like a man admiring beauty.
Like a wolf choosing where to bite.
"Come here."
Jace took a shaky step forward.
Damien didn't touch him right away. He just stood there, letting the tension stretch until it was unbearable. Then his hand reached out—fingers brushing Jace's waist, then lower, skimming the curve of his hip.
"You've never been with a man before," Damien said flatly. "Have you?"
Jace swallowed hard. "No."
"Good."
A hand slid to the back of his neck. Firm. Dominant. Claiming. Jace shuddered as Damien pulled him closer, their bodies barely an inch apart.
"Then I'll teach you what it means to being touched by a man."
His mouth descended pressing hot against Jace's neck, teeth grazing skin, lips moving slow, purposeful, just enough to make him feel owned. Jace gasped, knees almost buckling.
Damien guided him backward, step by step, until the backs of Jace's knees hit the chair in the corner of the room.
"Lie down," Damien ordered.
Jace hesitated.
Then obeyed.
He lay back, completely exposed, his chest rising and falling with every nervous breath. Damien didn't rush. He undressed like a man who knew control was sexier than force. Every button undone with intent. Every move soaked in power.
When he finally joined Jace on the chair, his voice was a whisper against his skin.
You don't owe me money anymore, Jace."
"You owe me you."
How much is your dept again?
"2.5million sir" Jace answered with closed teeth
Jace had never felt this exposed in his life.
Not just physically mentally. Emotionally. It was like Damien could see through every mask he wore, every lie he told himself. And that smug bastard hadn't even touched him properly yet.
Damien's hand slid down Jace's bare chest, slow and unhurried. The heat of his palm burned more than the shame twisting in Jace's gut.
"Now I take you as the money" what your say about that ? Damien asked
"You're shaking," Damien murmured, voice low against his ear.
"I'm cold," Jace lied.
"No. You're turned on."
Jace's breath hitched as fingers brushed just above his hipbone teasing, never settling. Damien's mouth was next trailing over the side of his neck, biting lightly, making him arch despite himself.
"Never had a man touch you?" Damien whispered.
"No."
"Never wanted it before?"
"No,"Jace rasped, chest rising and falling too fast. "And now I still don't."
Damien smirked and pressed a kiss just below his collarbone. "Your body says otherwise."
Jace was already hard. Achingly so. His skin tingled with every breath. Every touch. He wanted to shove Damien away but more than that, he wanted to see what would happen next.
And Damien knew it.
He slid lower, his mouth dragging down Jace's chest, nipping a sensitive spot that made Jace gasp.
"Fuck-"
"I told you," Damien said, now between his legs, one hand gripping his thigh. "You don't even know what your body likes yet."
Jace opened his mouth to protest
Then Damien's lips wrapped around him.
Hot. Wet. Deep.
Jace's head slammed back against the cushion, a strangled sound ripping from his throat. He'd been touched before. Had good sex before. But this?
This was precision.
Damien used his mouth like a weapon. Like he was punishing Jace for being naive. His hand gripped Jace's thigh tighter, keeping him still while his tongue worked him open, slow and maddening.
"Stop… Damien shit-"
"Say my name like that again," Damien growled, licking up the dick before sinking his mouth back down. "Beg for it."
Jace was losing it. The pleasure was too much. Too sharp. He felt filthy, desperate so fucking close.
And Damien didn't stop.
He hollowed his cheeks, deepened the rhythm, and when Jace reached his peak hips jerking, moans broken Damien didn't pull away.
He swallowed everything.
Then sat up like nothing had happened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jace lay there, breathless, staring up at the ceiling like the world had just ended.
"What the hell was that…" he whispered.
"Lesson one, Damien said coolly, buttoning his shirt. "You belong to me now."
Jace turned his head, face flushed, lips parted.
"I don't-"
"You do,"Damien interrupted. "And that was just the beginning."
He leaned in close. His mouth brushed Jace's ear with a whisper that made him shiver.
"Next time, I won't let you lie there. Next time... you'll ride it."
Jace woke up in silk sheets that weren't his.
The air smelled like cologne and leather. Heavy curtains muted the sunlight, and somewhere in the distance, classical music played softly through hidden speakers.
For a moment, he didn't move. Just stared at the ceiling.
Then it hit him.
Last night.
The mouth. The heat. His own humiliating moans echoing off the walls. Damien's voice in his ear.
"You belong to me now."
Jace shoved the covers off and sat up fast his legs still sore, body oversensitive, skin burning in places Damien hadn't even marked.
What the hell have I done…
His clothes were gone. Folded neatly on a chair in the corner. And on the nightstand beside him?
A black box with a red ribbon.
He didn't touch it.
Not until the door creaked openand Damien walked in, calm as ever, holding two coffee mugs like this was a normal morning between lovers.
Jace tensed. "Where the hell are my pants?"
Damien didn't answer right away. He just walked over, handed Jace the coffee, and sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes swept down Jace's bare chest like he was still undressing him.
"Sleep well?"
"You're sick," Jace muttered. "You're actually sick."
"You didn't seem to mind last night."
Jace flinched.
"Don't," Damien said, tone suddenly sharp. "Don't rewrite it. I didn't force you. I made you feel good. That scares you more than anything."
Jace wanted to throw the coffee in his face. He wanted to scream. To run.
But he also wanted to… stay.
And that was what made it worse.
"What is this?" Jace asked, nodding toward the black box. "Another gift to remind me I'm your whore?"
Damien gave a slow, dangerous smile.
"Open it."
Jace didn't want to. But his hands moved anyway.
Inside was a collar.
Black leather. Silver ring in the center.
Jace's stomach flipped.
"You're insane."
Damien leaned closer. "You agreed to pay the debt with your body. This is just… accounting."
"You think I'm gonna wear that?"
"You will," Damien said quietly. "Not today. Not tomorrow. But eventually… you'll beg me to put it on."
Jace's jaw clenched. "Go to hell."
Damien just stood and headed for the door.
Before leaving, he looked over his shoulder and said, without a trace of humor:
"You've got seven days to show me I was right about you. If by then you still think you're not my whore" I'll let you walk away."
"But you won't." I guess so
Then the door closed, and Jace was left in the silence, staring at the collar.
It felt heavier than anything he'd ever held.
And worst of all?
A part of him wanted to wear it.