Chapter 1
Two drunken women staggered down the sidewalk, holding onto each other like a pair of crabs trying to find their footing. “Your boyfriend better not cross my path, or I swear I’ll smack him and then kick him where it hurts,” Lysandra Lockhart said, kicking her foot out as her stylish heels flew forward. “Yeah, knock him out! He’s got a ridiculously small… you know what, and he finishes so fast,” Zachary Gray chimed in with a hiccup, just as her phone buzzed incessantly. She lazily answered, “Hello? What do you want? Call me when you’re dead.” “I had a car accident, I’m in the ER.” “What?! Are you okay?” “I crashed, it hurts like hell.” “Don’t worry, I’ll grab Lockhart and we’ll be right there.” Zachary, half sobered by the panic, tucked her phone away and hailed a cab, dragging the tipsy Lysandra in with her as they sped off to the hospital. Inside St. Michael's Hospital’s bustling emergency room, chaos reigned with patients filling every corner, each more miserable than the last. In one darkened corner, a tall, broad-shouldered man with strikingly handsome features was sprawled on a hospital bed. His flushed face, rapid breathing, and intense heat radiating from his skin painted a picture of someone in distress. No matter the expression he wore—furrowed brow, irritation, or tightly pressed lips—there was an undeniable magnetism about him. He gripped the metal frame of his bed, struggling against an overwhelming primal urge that surged within him. It felt as if he was a beast poised to strike, his eyes flaring at every woman that passed, while thoughts of their bodies consumed him even when he shut his eyes. He was on the verge of losing it. “Please, where's the doctor?” he thought, desperately wishing for help. Suddenly, Zachary settled Lysandra, still tipsy, onto a chair and rushed to ask a nearby nurse where her boyfriend was, telling the nurse that while Lysandra was sleeping, she’d be fine for a bit. She followed the nurse toward the surgical area. As the emergency room bustled with activity, many patients in need of beds jostled Lysandra, nudging her out of the way. She clumsily stood and apologized, disoriented, and instinctively plopped down on the bed in the corner—completely oblivious to the muscular man beneath her, who was in a less-than-ideal state. “Ugh…” Damian Hawthorne groaned as she landed on him, instantly noticing the drunk, delicate woman sprawled on his lap. As he took in her intoxicating scent mixed with alcohol, he struggled to maintain control, his instincts as a man taking over. His rough hands slid along her back's curves, offering him a temporary respite from his fierce longing, even as reason screamed in his mind that he should stop. This was wrong. When Dr. Kevin Oakwood appeared, he quickly assessed the unfortunate situation and asked Damian, “Do you need a private room?” “Yes, please,” Damian replied, his senses still consumed by the soft, intoxicated woman in his arms. Once he was wheeled away into the private VIP room, Damian could no longer contain himself, drinking in the sight of this vulnerable, tipsy beauty perched atop him. Just as she stirred awake, she began slapping him playfully, “You bad guy, you creep, you jerk! I’m not a wallflower, I’m just picky!” “Mhm, okay,” he mused, lying back as she continued her playful assault. His mind was all over the place—a mix of wild desire and the spicy need to unravel her. As her head bobbed forward and collided with his chiseled abs, she seemed oblivious to the tension, mumbling, “Sorry! I’m an intern who just arrived, so sorry, esteemed guest.” “An intern, huh? Where from?” Damian questioned, desperately trying to keep his composure as he caught sight of her tousled hair and errant grin. “Luxe Designs! I’m Lysandra Lockhart, nice to meet you!” she said, wobbling as she introduced herself, her eyes drifting to the sight of his prominent figure below. She rubbed her eyes in confusion before reaching down, grasping for what she thought was just a misunderstanding, only for her balance to betray her, sending her back. “Wow, you’re quite impressive! The size is definitely a catch, might just win a lot of attention!” she proclaimed, eyes wide with wonder as she eyed him. But Damian had no interest in her ramblings. His only focus was on the enticing panties that peeked out from her movements. Without a thought, he reached out, yanking her underwear, startling her. “Hey! The hospital ordered twenty units of therapeutic tools for… Sorry, I meant to consider this as well, it’s so big, it even has temperature and movement—nice!” she babbled, lost in her own thoughts once again. Damian, still unfazed by her chatter, was intent on his next moves, grabbing the drunken beauty and positioning her on the bed, spreading her legs wide open. “Come here, let’s explore,” he said, leaning in to savor the moment. “Mmm… this feels… amazing…” she mused, lost between reality and fantasy, thoughts swirling with the thrill of something she could barely comprehend amidst the haze from the wine and the soft moaning sounds that filled her mind.
Chapter 2
Damian Hawthorne swiftly flicked his tongue against Lysandra Lockhart’s core, causing her sweet juices to flow freely and drawing out delightful sounds from her lips. “Too fast… Ah~” Legs clamped around his head, her fingers tangled in his gelled hair. Is this a dream? Why does it feel like she's using a vibrator? And why on earth would she be using one? The sensation was exhilarating, deeply pleasurable, but the heat from his tongue was overwhelming. Could he stop? Please? Her hands grasped Damian Hawthorne's head. Damian's mouth was drenched with her essence. With a rakish grin and a husky voice, he asked, “Can't handle it? Taste yourself.” He climbed atop her, licking her lips before diving into a kiss. “Mmm~” His forceful kiss stirred a mix of resistance, curiosity, and... excitement within her. This unthinkable closeness and passionate kiss were so different from what she’d seen in movies or read in books. The wet kiss, the tangle of their tongues—her body heated up, yearning for more… Damian's hands glided between her damp thighs, his middle finger slipping into her tight core. He tried using two fingers but felt blocked. He noticed her discomfort as she pushed at him, her voice strained with unease. “No~ Stop,” she whimpered, sounding like a pleading kitten. “Open your legs. I'll make you feel good.” He lowered his head, sucking and lightly biting her nipple. “Ah~” Her body arched in an attempt to retreat. “Where are you going? There's no escape. Become mine, baby, just once,” his hand that was pushing her shoulder, moved to caress her other breast. “Is this like writing a report? How indecent. No.” Despite her protests, her hands followed his, squeezing and massaging her breast. Her legs opened wide as his two fingers slid in and out, sending waves of pleasure and tightness through her. “Let loose just this once. I'll take care of you.” He loved teasing her breasts with gentle bites and licks. Her body felt strange under his manipulations—shuddering uncontrollably, tensing then relaxing, unable to contain the internal turmoil and moans of bliss. “Ah… enough, enough, please.” She panted, her body writhing from the rapid thrusts of his fingers. “Be a naughty little thing for me, and I'll give you whatever you want.” Satisfied with her compliance, he suddenly withdrew his fingers, admiring the wetness coating his hand. His sharp eyes burned with desire and a cruel glint. She's climaxed twice already. And he hasn’t even started yet. Lysandra panted heavily, her mind blank. Instinctively, she tried to close her legs, but they were sore and trembled from being spread so wide. Nonetheless, her modesty urged her to close them. Damian chuckled at her embarrassment. Grabbing her thighs, he aligned himself and slid into her quickly. Both their faces contorted in pain simultaneously. “Ah… It hurts, it hurts… What is this?” The pain of penetration jolted Lysandra awake, her eyes locking onto the handsome man before her. Who is this man? Why is he on top of me? “Your pussy is too tight. It hurts me,” Damian growled, sensitive and pained from the pressure. The stimulation nearly made him finish, biting his lip to control himself. A man who had conquered countless women, almost made to climax by this woman’s tight embrace—impressive. Most women hurt him with their teeth, but this one squeezed him painfully. Excellent. Let her keep squeezing. “It hurts me too. Why are you pushing so hard? Pervert.” Tears of pain rolled down Lysandra's cheeks as she tried to push his well-defined abs away. “Shut up. I can't stop now. Take over,” he gritted his teeth, thrusting slowly at first before wildly pumping into her, causing her entire body to tremble. Even her breasts bounced up and down like waves. No man could resist such a sight, so he indulged himself, thrusting fully and deeply. “Ahh~” Lysandra was lost in the overwhelming sensations, able only to moan and convulse with the relentless pleasure. Is this really me? Since when did I become a slave to desire? Is this even a dream? But dreams don’t hurt or make you climax, right? If this is a dream, why does it feel like a motor is whirring inside her? Someone please tell her what this hot, firm rod inside her is. Why is she free to move her hands, yet this big rod keeps plunging in and out, keeping her wet and helpless?
Chapter 3
Lysandra Lockhart’s body throbbed with pain and exhaustion, the incessant ringing of her phone pulling her from the fog of sleep. With great effort, she dragged her weary self up and answered it. “Hello?” “Lysandra Lockhart, where have you been?” The voice on the other end belonged to Zachary Gray, filled with a mix of anger and concern. “Um… what?” Just as she jolted awake, her gaze fell on a ruggedly handsome man with a jagged scar across his cheek, who was wiping his face with a towel and giving her a disarming smile. What on earth? Why is this mixed-race scarred hunk in my room? And where even am I? “Lysandra? Are you okay?” Zachary's voice cracked through her confusion. “I—I’ll call you back!” She abruptly hung up, taking in her surroundings: she lay completely naked on a hospital bed, a thin sheet barely covering her. Instinctively, she threw the bedding over herself before nervously turning to the man who was now shaving. “Uh, excuse me… did we—did I sleep with you?” “Yep,” the man replied, his tone casual. “You crawled into my hospital bed after getting wasted and did some very unmentionable things. Let’s just say you took my virginity.” Damian Hawthorne smirked, fully enjoying the chaos of the situation as he nonchalantly tossed the blame onto the woman who had had quite the adventurous night. Lysandra’s heart sank. This guy was a mess, and somehow she'd ended up in this predicament. Panic set in as she tried to process everything. How did I end up in a hospital? “Wait, are you really a virgin?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in disbelief. After a night of drinking, things felt hazy, but was it really possible for her to have… Oh god, had she taken things too far? Hospitals were scary places, especially when you didn’t remember how you got there. “Of course,” Damian deadpanned, his expression serious. “You had a helluva time insisting on how much you loved this… equipment.” “Are you here for a circumcision? I’m not that good at it!” Lysandra reflected on the situation, blood rushing to her face as she uncovered the sheet only to see a smear of blood there. Her legs felt utterly weak, and her mind went blank. Oh my god, did I really just sleep with this guy? Am I going to get some infection? “You loved it. You kept asking me to go harder, faster, and begged me not to stop.” Damian continued with absurd confidence. “Stop. Stop! I’ve committed the most unforgivable act of lust. I’m so sorry.” Mortification flooded her face as she clasped her hands together in a gesture of apology. She should have known better than to drink so much. Old folks always warned that drinking could lead to disaster—case in point, here she was, in a hospital bed with a man she barely knew. Crap! How am I going to make amends for this? Am I going to jail for this? The irony of it struck him as humorous, and Damian couldn’t help but chuckle. “You acted like you wanted to pay for this. So, how about letting me have your number?” “Wait… how about I just pay you a thousand?” She quickly punched in her phone number, but it was more to get out of this embarrassing situation. He burst into laughter, clearly amused. “Ha! A thousand? That’s just too funny. You really think that’s enough for a night like last night?” “Are you kidding me? Am I supposed to cover your medical expenses from our ‘escapade’? I didn’t even bite anything off!” Lysandra couldn’t help the overwhelming sense of frustration that showed on her face. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for this man’s possibly horrific pain. “Exactly, so how about you come take care of me at my place?” Damian pushed his luck with a teasing glint in his eye. “So, if I help you out, I won’t owe you anything?” “I’ll consider it.” Lysandra bit her lip and glanced at the ringing phone. She hesitated to take the call, her gut telling her to ignore it. “Why not answer? I won’t stop you,” he said, observing her uncertainty with a hint of concern. She was finally settling into her reality, trying to gather her thoughts—until the phone went silent and then started ringing again. Hesitant to see the caller ID, she reluctantly checked it and her expression soured. “Just answer it already,” he insisted, seizing the phone from her hand. The voice on the other end was vile and oily, dripping with innuendo: “My lovely, fragrant gift has been sent your way. Have you tried yoga? You’ll need some flexibility… if you have a water base, you can dilute the action.” Lysandra winced, knowing very well what this creep was getting at. The voice made her furious, her emotions in a whirl. Damian, unable to contain himself, snapped a screenshot of the caller and sent it off with a fervent determination. “I’m Damian Hawthorne. Get me that pervert. I want to see him this afternoon.” So much for a peaceful day in the hospital.
Chapter 4
Lysandra Lockhart found herself at the Grand Citadel, a well-known landmark in the downtown of her city. She marveled at how she had ended up in bed with a man who exuded such raw charisma, yet she couldn’t comprehend why he seemed to think she owed him anything. Usually, men like him would pay for a night of fun and move on; why was he fixated on the fact that she had slept with him? Was he really planning to hold her accountable for that bite? But why had she bitten him in the first place? Perhaps it was just the alcohol talking—could it be she mistook his anatomy for something more edible? The memories were fuzzy, clouded by wine, and now she felt utterly trapped in this mess. Damian Hawthorne had given her the door code, and as he reached into his study for a key, he said, “In a moment, I’ll give you a card. You can use it to buy whatever you want.” “Wait, I thought I was here to take care of you?” Lysandra looked at him, bewildered, feeling like she was in the wrong movie. She was supposed to be atoning for something, not being treated like a trophy. So, who was really in charge here? Was it him, or could he be the one who was being used? “Yes, but if I get your body, I think I deserve a little more than just that,” Damian smirked, brushing his hand against her cheek. There was something endearing about her naive expression—it made her look all the more charming. He’d rather deal with her breathless laughter than spend a lifetime caught in a relationship with someone manipulative and shrewd. When you’re going to spend time and energy, you might as well invest it in someone sweet and uncomplicated. And, to put it bluntly, he didn’t want to walk away without a commitment. But truth be told, he couldn’t just reveal everything right now; he wouldn’t risk ruining their connection and into a legal mess. “Don’t you find it a bit strange? You didn’t force me, did you?” Lysandra questioned, feigning indignation as she tugged at his shirt, trying to pull him down to her level, climbing onto a chair for leverage when she found she was too short. “Look at you, pulling a chair up to meet me eye-to-eye. That’s kind of cute, babe,” he chuckled, pulling her waist closer and planting a kiss on her lips. The way she looked at him, so confused yet earnest, was absurdly funny. “Mmm…” Lysandra felt a flicker of familiarity as Damian’s kiss triggered vague memories from the previous night. There was a guy—had he told her to loosen up? She had thought it was all a dream and had gone along with it, but in retrospect, it felt as if she had walked straight into a trap. “Babe, how about you marry me?” Damian blurted out impulsively, pressing her against the counter with an intense look in his striking eyes. He was at an age where settling down felt legitimate, and if he tied the knot, surely he could prevent any further mishaps that involved questionable substances. “Wait… why? We don’t know each other well enough!” Lysandra stammered, her mind racing as she looked into his handsome gaze. “Trust me; we know each other plenty. I’ve crossed a line here that’s tougher to ignore,” he grinned teasingly. “Are you kidding? This feels way too good to be true,” she nervously eyed him, doubting whether he was a smooth-talking con artist out to take advantage of her. “I assure you, I’m a lawyer,” he chuckled, adding a wink. “Seriously? Like, Law & Order style?” “There’s a case lingering here, one that involves a little thing called defamation, thanks to Miranda,” he noted. “Hold on a second! Did you just say I was *attacked*?” Lysandra squeaked as she hopped off the counter, a mixture of confusion and indignation flooding her mind as she captured his shirt to hold her ground. “You’re blaming the victim now, aren’t you? Because it was my job to fight you off while lying in the emergency room, right? You think you can evade blame by being this way?” He quickly pressed his lips to hers, combined with a teasing flick of his tongue. “Mmm…” She emitted a soft surrender. “Yup,” he murmured back, tightening his grip around her waist as they kissed more desperately, an intensity igniting between them. Then, an unexpected phone call disrupted the moment, and Damian scowled, pulling her in tighter as he answered, “Did you find that guy?” “You know him. He was once with our law firm, like, really sneaky,” the voice on the line said. “Who exactly?” “Just a notorious creep on the subway, that man who claims to have a soft spot when caught; he’s a real piece of work.” “Where’s he now?” Lysandra felt stunned by the whirlwind of events, dragged along in his wake without a clear idea of what was happening. She wished she hadn’t drunk so much—that decision had obviously spiraled out of control. Had she actually bitten a part of a man’s dignity just because she couldn’t handle her liquor? But who knew biting could be such a wild way to handle life?
Chapter 5
Lysandra Lockhart sat vacantly on the five-seater sofa, her thoughts swirling in a tumultuous storm. How could she possibly rid herself of Damian Hawthorne? He was indeed a lawyer. Just moments ago, after walking into his study with a cup of coffee, she had been bombarded by the sight of shelves crammed with legal textbooks, statutes, and case law from around the world. There was no doubt about it. Who among today’s crowd even read anymore? Outside of students and scholars, it seemed everyone else was glued to their phones or tablets. That handsome man, with his strikingly mixed features, exuded a rugged, scholarly charm. Even with a scar etched across his face, he managed to maintain an undeniable presence and appeal. How did she end up caught up with such a dangerously appealing guy? His intellect seemed formidable. The walls were lined with books and resources, creating an intimidating atmosphere. Her brother always said that people who were well-read tended to come off as somewhat slow but were often capable of devising intricate strategies given the chance. What on earth was she supposed to do now? She had practically assaulted a man, and no; it wasn’t just assault—it was far worse. If she were to burden herself with another crime… Oh God, would she end up in jail? What should she do now? Run home? Damian emerged from his study, empty coffee cup in hand, and found her nervously seated on the sofa, an air of anxiety etching her features. Had he pressed her too hard? Ugh. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this. He washed the mug and approached her, crouching to meet her gaze at eye level, much like an older brother comforting his little sister. "What’s wrong? You look so glum." Lysandra Lockhart looked into Damian Hawthorne’s now gentle eyes, and the warmth reminded her of her own brother. Unable to restrain herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder as she murmured, "I…I just want to go home." "But this is your home," he replied tenderly, brushing her hair back. "Am I frightening you?" Ah, this innocent girl didn't know much about the world, and it was obvious she was spooked. But he couldn't let her down. He had to scare her a little for his own protection. There was no other way. If he didn’t, it might be him who faced the consequences. “Can we not get married? Can you put that back?” Lysandra Lockhart gazed up at Damian Hawthorne with a pleading innocence. He couldn't help but chuckle softly and kissed her forehead. "Marriage isn’t what’s at stake here.” Did she really think about her foreskin at a time like this? Silly girl. "I'm afraid things will get complicated once we're married," she stammered, eyeing him nervously. Once they tied the knot, various secrets were bound to come to light, right? "Neither of us is married," Damian insisted, cupping her small face in his hands. His sharp gaze pierced through her, filled with menace. “Is there something you haven’t told me?” “…” Lysandra Lockhart froze, fear gripping her heart. "What is it?" Damian’s voice deepened, a mix of authority and tension, pressing her to reveal her secrets. "I…" She struggled to speak under the weight of his gaze when suddenly the doorbell rang. “Go to the bedroom,” he said, his expression shifting as he glanced at the door. He stood and gently pushed her toward the room. Lysandra nodded and ducked into the bedroom, only to find herself in Damian's personal space—decorated in deep, classic hues, its ambiance thick with pressure and unease. Outside the door, Damian opened it to reveal a group of burly men dressed in official-looking uniforms. “Is Sir Leonard Blackwood expecting something?” one of them asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Come on, Damian. Are you really turning down a beautiful woman sent on behalf of Sir Blackwood?” “I have no interest in women who are completely fabricated and can drug you,” Damian replied bluntly, his gaze hardened as he stepped into protective mode, hoping they wouldn’t intrude. Lysandra had no clue what was transpiring. The men surged into the house, forming a blockade around him. Captain Thorne spotted a pair of women's shoes and demanded, "If you find it difficult to resist, just bring the woman out.” “Over my dead body,” Damian growled, throwing punches at two men before he was overwhelmed by others, who beat him back, forcing him to kneel. “Grab Damian’s little fox!” Captain Thorne ordered, striking him hard three times in the face, commanding his men forward. "She has nothing to do with this. She's just a girl fresh out of college!" Damian bellowed, losing his composure. “Let’s see if it’s a donkey or a horse after it’s led out,” Captain Thorne taunted, landing a final blow before the thugs dragged out a heads-down, trembling Lysandra.
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