Trapped in the boss's embrace (by Katrina A) novel Chapter 136

Chapter 136 More Money

He kissed her like he was starving for her.

Their mouths crashed together, tongues battling as he claimed her completely.

No escape, no mercy. Just pure, raw need as he drank her in like a dying man.

"Mmph!" She squirmed against him, frustrated.

Then, she got bold. She nipped his tongue, locked her arms around his neck, and took control. Her mouth explored his with fierce determination, marking her territory.

His breathing turned ragged. One hand tangled in her hair while the other traced her curves, shoving aside delicate fabric. His lips blazed a hot trail down her throat, savoring her sweet skin like forbidden fruit.

Beatrice bit her lower lip so hard it was practically turning white.

Her eyes, which were initially half-lidded with pleasure, gradually fluttered shut. Her body was like a magnet, pressing tightly against his. Her hands snuck under his shirt as if they had a mind of their own, inching closer and closer to those off-limits areas.

Just when her heart was about to leap out of her chest, his hand shot out and grabbed hers.

Damian buried his face in the crook of her neck. His throat bobbed up and down as he fought tooth and nail to rein in the raging desire that was coursing through his veins.

He knew he couldn't just have his way with her like some brute, not without getting things straight first.

He lifted his head and stared at her. Her eyes were shut, and her cheeks were as pink as a peach.

"Keep this up," he growled, "and we'll need more terms."

Beatrice slowly fluttered her eyes open.

The moonlight gave her a dreamy glow, like she was in a trance.

She was clearly out of it, trying to wrap her head around what he'd just said.

If we keep this up, more...

More money?

Confusion was written all over her face. She looked like a lost puppy, a mix of total bewilderment and a touch of vulnerability.

"How much extra... is it gonna cost me?" she whispered.

Damian's chiseled face clouded over with annoyance.

Without uttering a single word, he tidied up her clothes, gently smoothing down her messy hair. Then, he stepped off the boat.

*****

Half an hour later, they were back at the hotel.

Beatrice slumped against the elevator wall, tucking her face into her hair. Her unruly locks cascaded down, completely obscuring her features.

Every time someone stepped into the elevator and caught sight of her wild look, they nearly let out a yelp of shock.

It was dead of night, and she must have looked like a real horror show.

Finally, when the elevator reached her floor, she staggered a bit as she stepped out.

"Hold on," Damian said, handing her a bag. "I got this for you. It costs money, so don't refuse it."

Usually, the mention of money got her attention, but now it just embarrassed her.

She took the bag silently and walked out, dazed enough to miss her room.

Realizing her mistake, she turned back.

Once she entered her room, the bag slipped from her fingers.

She stared blankly ahead as if her soul had taken flight. Like a ghost, she drifted aimlessly towards the couch. She stood there for a solid minute before flopping down onto the cushions.

Hearing the door open, Violet emerged from the inner room, looking stunned.

Then, catching sight of Beatrice, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Beatie!"

She dashed over, gently pushing the hair away from Beatrice's face. Her eyes widened in alarm when she saw Beatrice staring blankly, as if she'd been hypnotized. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?!"

There was no answer right away.

Beatrice just stared at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts like she was meditating.

Violet waved a hand in front of her eyes. "Don't scare me! Just spill the beans on what happened!"

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Beatrice spoke, her voice strangely calm. "I… I bit his throat."

Violet was speechless.

She'd even started conjuring up crazy scenarios, like maybe Beatrice and Damian had somehow offed Desmond by accident. But as soon as she heard Beatrice's words, all that worry flew out the window.

She got all fired up and plopped down on the spot, practically bouncing with curiosity. "Come on, spill the rest!"

"I copped a feel," Beatrice mumbled.

Violet urged again, "Then?"

How can I face him again after this?

Finally, she managed to open it, pulling out a roll of plastic wrap first, then two bottles of alcohol, and at the very bottom, several boxes of condoms.

Holy cow! Beatie must've planned ages ago to get Damian drunk and sleep with him!

"Stop. Just stop." Beatrice buried her face in her hands.

"Relax. You'll get another shot."

Little by little, Beatrice managed to compose herself.

Before long, Violet realized her pal had dozed off, clutching a pillow tight like it was a long-lost teddy bear.

*****

At eight o'clock the next morning, Beatrice stirred awake on the couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown over her.

Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her temples were pounding as if a drumline was having a field day inside.

She sat up groggily, yawning widely, and shuffled off to get a drink of water.

As Beatrice saw the opened bag on the floor, it was like a switch flipped in her brain, and everything from last night started falling into place.

She capped the water bottle she'd opened and just sat there, watching the chaotic scenes of last night play out in her mind like a wild movie.

The charged atmosphere, the burning desire, and the alcohol—it all came rushing back.

Oh my God! What the hell did I do?!

Anxiety hit her hard, and she started pacing the living room, her hair a wild mess.

She kept replaying moments in her head—biting his neck, breathless kisses, her hands all over him, and him undoing her blouse.

Beatrice clutched her chest, gasping like she'd taken some wild aphrodisiac.

How did I end up in this mess?

Before she could calm down, the doorbell rang, snapping her out of it.

With her hair looking windblown and her mind foggy, she staggered to the door.