Chapter 5 Rumor has it

Chapter Five: Rumor Has It

The whispers started Monday morning.

It began in the copy room-soft laughter, a shared look.

Then came the questions masked as gossip:

> "So... how late were you working Friday?"

"You're really climbing that ladder fast, huh?"

"I'd kill for one-on-one time with Mr. Blackthorn."

Elsie kept her head down, typing fast, swallowing her guilt like bitter tea. But her hands shook. Her legs still ached from where he'd gripped them. Marked them.

She could still feel him.

---

He hadn't touched her since that night in his office.

Not with his hands.

But every email he sent had heat curled behind the punctuation. Every glance during meetings lingered too long. When she passed him in the hallway, his fingers brushed her spine-casual to everyone else, but it set her on fire.

Until Thursday, when he called her in.

She expected another whispered order. Another bruise on her inner thigh.

What she didn't expect was the folder he slid across his desk.

> Company Retreat. Private Plane. You and me. Tomorrow.

"Sir-"

"Don't call me that," Damian said. "Not when you've screamed my name."

She flushed. "What is this?"

"An offsite planning session." He tilted his head. "You're not just a pretty distraction, Elsie. You're smart. Sharp. I want you close. In every way."

She swallowed.

"Pack light. And no panties."

---

The jet was cold and silent. Just the two of them, leather seats and champagne.

She wore a soft sweater dress, knees together, hands trembling. He noticed.

"You're nervous," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

"You like that," she whispered.

His lips quirked. "I love it."

---

At the villa-glass, white marble, the ocean crashing against private cliffs-he pressed her against the bedroom wall before her suitcase hit the floor.

"Take it off," he said.

"W-what?"

"The dress."

She did.

No panties. No bra.

He stared like she was art he'd commissioned.

"Touch yourself," he said.

She hesitated.

"Elsie," he warned.

So she did. Fingers parting her folds, shy and slow.

"Faster."

She obeyed. His gaze didn't leave her once.

"Do you like being watched?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to be used?"

"...Yes."

He crossed the room in seconds. Grabbed her hand, wet from her own arousal, and licked her fingers into his mouth.

Then he lifted her onto the bed.

And ruined her.

---

He tied her wrists with his belt.

Made her beg for every thrust.

Whispered filthy promises in her ear until she was shaking.

Then, afterward, he held her.

He never held her before.

She lay there, head on his chest, and whispered, "This isn't just sex anymore, is it?"

He didn't answer.

But his arms around her tightened.