The night outside was cold, but inside the penthouse bedroom, the air burned with heat and desire. I lay beneath the richest man in the city, his body relentless, his strength overwhelming. Every thrust felt like fire, and I welcomed it—because playing with fire had always been my favorite sin.
Sweat slicked our bodies, staining the sheets until they were wet and dirtied by passion. The room echoed only with our heavy breaths, a rhythm of lust and exhaustion. Then, with a rough kiss pressed against my jaw, he murmured in a husky voice, "Let's do it one more time."
I smiled shamelessly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hesitation. His fingers traced my cheek, almost gentle, before his eyes darkened.
"You're too beautiful," he whispered. "Too addictive. How is it possible that someone like you doesn't belong to anyone?"
That was the question I hated most. The one that never failed to sour my mood. My lips curved into a cold smile as I answered, "If you want to see me again, don't waste your tongue on nonsense. Use it somewhere better."
His smirk returned—wicked, hungry—and he crushed his mouth against mine, kissing me with a roughness that left me breathless
as if to punish me for my words.
****
When the morning sun poured across the room, I opened my eyes with a groan. My body ached, sore from his merciless roughness, but even through the pain, a shameless smile tugged at my lips. I could still hear my own moans from last night echoing in my ears, still feel the heat of his touch seared into my skin.
I stretched lazily before sitting up, realizing I didn't even remember when I had passed out. Like always, the room was empty. He was gone. They were always gone. Just me—my aching body, the lingering scent of sex, and the silence of loneliness.
Dragging myself into the bathroom, I stood beneath the shower, letting the warm water ease my soreness. My reflection in the mirror made me pause. My body was scattered with bite marks and red scars, reminders of last night's games. I let out a low laugh, bitter and tired. I really should buy ointment… not just for the marks, but for everything else that hurts.
After dressing, I left the penthouse without looking back. This was my routine now—a night with a billionaire, a morning with money in my account, and an emptiness that no amount of pleasure could erase.
The cold morning air wrapped around me as I walked toward the bus station. Each step was heavy, but the breeze against my skin felt oddly refreshing, like a cruel contrast to what I carried inside.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Notification: Bank account credited.
A small smile curved my lips. Another message followed immediately after:
Message: Last night was unforgettable. I'll see you again soon, beauty.
"Tch. Who's meeting you next time, hungry dog?" I muttered, switching off the screen. Sliding the phone back into my pocket, I lifted my face toward the cold sky and kept walking. The world felt fresh, but my heart remained the same—empty, aching, and addicted to this dangerous game.
I sat on the bus, forehead resting against the window, watching the gray sky outside. The morning air was fresh, maybe even beautiful, and it looked like it might rain soon. Rain always dragged me back to the day I lost everything.
The day my family abandoned me completely.
I was born into the richest family in the country—the Hale family. For a while, I thought I was the luckiest child alive, blessed with two older siblings, Daniel and Diana, and parents who gave me everything I could ever want. My life had seemed perfect. Until the day they realized I liked boys.
My mother called me disgusting. My father, furious at what he called a disgrace, wanted to erase me from the family name. They hid me away, stripped me from the public eye, and eventually kicked me out of the mansion like unwanted trash. At fourteen years old, I was sent to another house, far from them, with only a nanny who tried to comfort me like a real mother.
I studied hard, desperate for their approval, believing that if I achieved high grades, maybe they would accept me again. How foolish I had been. The Hale family never looked back. They celebrated every success, held grand functions for Daniel, the heir, and paraded Diana like a princess. But Damien Hale—the youngest son—was never mentioned. No one remembered. No one cared.
I remember sitting alone in that quiet house, watching the news about their celebrations, my chest aching with the same question every time: Why do they hate me so much?
In the silence of that loneliness, I surrendered. I ate, I studied, I smiled for my caretaker, who loved me like her own. I accepted that this was my life—until someone new appeared.
Kyle.
He was handsome, smart, the star of our class with a strong body and a bright smile. I admired him from afar, convinced he was out of reach. Until one day, in the storeroom of our school, he kissed me. My first kiss. He confessed, promised me love, promised forever.
For the first time in years, I was happy. We ate together, studied side by side, spent long nights in each other's company. He came to my house often, filling the empty spaces with laughter. And when he said he would go abroad for studies, he promised he would return for me. That one day, he would marry me.
I waited like a fool.
But he never came back. He cut off all contact as if I had never existed.
And I accept it like I always do...
On my twentieth birthday, I alone again, as I always did. No one wished me. No one cared. I even called my mother, desperate for the sound of her voice, but she declined the call.
That day, it rained.
Umbrella in hand, I walked through the streets, staring at the sky, a bitter smile on my lips. Maybe the weather understood me. Maybe the rain fell because I was crying inside.
I didn't even see the truck coming.
The world went white with pain. I hit the ground, blood pooling and mixing with rainwater as people screamed and gathered around me. My vision blurred, my eyes heavy. No one reached out to hold me. No one called my name.
That day, I truly wanted to die. I hated this cruel, merciless world with every fiber of my being. But fate was crueler still. I survived.
Lying in the hospital bed, like an orphan with no visitors, no family, no love, I realized the truth: Damien Hale had died that day.
Now, I live as Dane.
Dane, who sells his body shamelessly. Dane, who only sleeps with billionaires—handsome, powerful men who throw money at me like it's nothing. A man they crave, a body they worship, a beauty they cannot resist.
Shameless? Maybe. But it's the only way I know how to survive—and to satisfy myself with the fleeting pleasure and fun that make me forget, even for a night, how much it hurts to be Damien Hale.
Leaning against the bus window, I closed my eyes, letting the cold air kiss my skin. I wasn't Damien anymore. Damien was weak, fragile, unwanted.
I am Dane. And this is my new life.
To be continued....
________
Welcome, dear readers °-°
Thank you for stepping into my story. This journey is not light—it's filled with mature themes, toxic love, hidden pain, and dangerous secrets behind every smile. But if you're ready to feel the emotions of heartbreak, desire, and survival, then welcome to Damien's world… or rather, Dane's.
Your support means everything to me. Please add this book to your library, leave your thoughts, and stay with me until the very end.
— Meowly^-^